(MASSIVE MATURE CONTENT AHEAD) 18+ 18+ Jamie Flock is not only controlling but also an unsupportive husband. He leaves Stella Graham to turn to her limited options in order to raise money for her sister’s surgery. Her job isn’t exactly something she’s proud of. But she has no other choices. Her life takes a turn when opportunity presents itself in the form of a rich, mysterious client. It would be the start of her promising career, a spicy journey of lust and romance and betrayals. From a strip club to the CEO’s lair filled with Sin, Seduction and Corporate games. “The Devil Wears A Suit, And A Smile”
View More“You!”, he orders, finger pointed at someone in a directionless manner. Heads turn, eyes drifting away from his stout build towards whoever his call is directed at. They murmur their thoughts, no one comes up. It’s absolute chaos, giving how no one’s unable to crack the coordinates. “Oh scratch that!”, he mumbles, flipping the pages of his stack of papers over. He adjusts his glasses on his nose bridge, eyes swiping across the paper in concentration. Then he looks up. “The one named Stella Graham!”, his voice echoes throughout the room. Echoes through me as my heart skips a few beats forward. His gaze sweeps through the crowd, expecting a response or at least a raised hand. Welp! Their eyes are on me. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. Heck, my head feels fuzzy, I could fall on my knees any moment from now. It feels heavy how fast the atmosphere changes, feels suffocating since the attention is on me. “Ah, so it’s you. You’re a pretty one”, he mumbles to himself. The w
That day, when night turns up, I couldn’t get an ounce of sleep, plagued by Jamie’s unexpected marriage proposal. I tossed and turned in the sofa, blanket riding lower and almost falling, leaving me cold and exposed every damn time. Guilt and frustration smack me in all angles, making it hard for me to find any rest. Jamie’s sudden change in character calls for alarm. To say that I’m concerned is an understatement. His words are fucking etched into my mind, echoing for as long as my mind keeps wandering to that part of my thoughts. The genuine look in his eyes just make everything far from being okay. Breathing ragged, beads of sweat scattered on my forehead, I push myself up, sleep wearing away from my senses. I rub my tired face with both palms, casting a sideways glance at the wall clock. The ticking hands crawl slowly over the numbers, taunting me with the late hour. It's past 2 a.m., and exhaustion is creeping in, but my mind refuses to shut down. Sleep remains elu
I give him a quick glance, eyes narrowed and face twisted into one of the most disgusted looks I’ve ever had or ever given to anyone. “Just take me home already”, I mumble, hands crossed over my chest, the gesture a clear sign that I’m impatient and he needs to hurry up if he doesn’t want me flipping things over. Eyes boring holes into him, I dare him to make a comment, to smirk, to do anything that might push me over the edge. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of gloating over the intimate details of my dream, of seeing the vulnerability. The vulnerability that he's somehow managed to expose. It's a petty move, but I'm determined to match his nonchalant energy, which is slowly, insidiously getting under my skin. But he raises a brow, deciding to end the matter in silence before it brews into something else he wouldn’t want to entertain. I bite the inside of my cheeks, struggling to stifle a laugh as my gaze falls on Luca's ridiculous footwear. He's wearing over
My head would’ve almost snap from how hard it whips around, searching for the source of the voice. It’s deep, smooth, but has that just-awoken morning touch to it. At first, it’s not familiar to my senses. It doesn’t even occur to me how foreign my surroundings seem to be. The golden drapes hanging right above the bed, cascading down from either sides of the gigantic bed, might I add. As compared to my same old boring bedroom interior, this one has a few artworks hanging on the auburn walls. There’s a large floor-to-ceiling window to my left, auburn blinds covering the view and little bits of the the early morning light seeping through the little cracks. There’s a burgundy colored door by the window, that I suppose leads to a bathroom. To my right stands the man that was just in my dreams. The man I had done so many wrongful and sinful deeds with in just one fantasy book. It’s unbelievably hard to fathom how real his beauty is. Even as he leans against the doorframe
“I wish we could stay like this forever”, are the words that leave my lips, before I succumbed to the will of slumber. I’ve had it on my mind for so long, it would be wrong to not let him know what I feel inside. But now that it’s out, it suddenly doesn’t feel right anymore. Because I’m human and he’s nothing like any of us. He’s a demon and he’s royalty. Scratch that, he’s the Royalty. But most importantly, I shouldn’t let these little actions of his that say more than they should, become an addiction to me. Because I’m married and just because they shouldn’t. So when my eyes blink open about an hour later, my heart calmed and my emotions resting at the back of my mind, the weight of those words press me down, just as much as the guilt does. Because I know that we can’t be. Even after all the sex, the yearning to reach for each other and live out every moment, it can’t be. And it hurts my heart to be in the middle of all these. And I keep using my marriage as an excuse
3RD PERSON’S POV “Jealous?”, she echoes, the playful glint in her eyes disappearing, replaced with the all too familiar look of hurt and disappointment. But Stella doesn’t seem to care. For all she knows, Kiki is a bitch for trying to manipulate her into believing that made up story about her own blood sister. How could she be so cruel?! “I know you and I haven’t been that close since Sandy’s arrival but isn’t it cheap of you to try and spoil her name for some minutes of attention?!”, Stella spits, pointing an accusing finger at Kiki, who’s too far gone into her thoughts trying to comprehend her situation. “Wait, wait, wait, wait”, she puts her hands up, palms facing her as if physically barricading Stella, to stop her from her talking further. Oh and Stella has a lot more than just bare insults in store for her. “Let me get this straight. You think that I’m the bad guy here?” “Me?”, she asks, lips quivering as tears at either sides of her eyes. Stella thinks it’s fake,
My face crumbles to the floor and if it could, it does so with a thud. Kiki's gaze is fixed on me, her eyes intent and searching as she waits for my reaction. I can sense her anticipation, her expectations of how I'll respond to this bombshell. Will I explode in anger, or will I take the news with a semblance of calm? The fact that her accusations involve my own sister makes my blood boil, and I can feel my emotions simmering just below the surface. A pang of discomfort settles in the pit of my stomach as I process Kiki's words. I'm no saint, I've made my share of mistakes. But the Sandy Kiki is describing is a total stranger to me. My Sandy is the girl who giggles uncontrollably over silly jokes and ridiculous mishaps. The thought of her being involved in something so deceitful and hurtful is jarring, and I struggle to reconcile the two images of my sister. The Sandy I know is the one who's lain helpless in a hospital bed, relying on me to care for her. I recall
If it wasn't for Luca's quick thinking, I would've been caught red-handed. But what's even more pathetic is that without his guidance, I wouldn't have known how to compose myself when Kiki walked in. My body would've betrayed me, screaming out my secrets for all to see. I'm that clueless, that oblivious. I'm a ticking time bomb of stupidity, just waiting for someone to come along and unravel the tangled threads of my life. And who better to do that than my best friend, Kiki? It’s all very unusual how she just clambers into my workplace, truly not dressed for the occasion with her glasses up in her hair to keep the strands out of her face. But I’m sure, there’s a solid reason for why she came. And she’s yet to let me know of that reason. While Luca and I climbed off each other in the nick of time, we’d no time to get our appearances together. Any sane person would raise an eyebrow at the state of my shirt, buttons hanging precariously close to coming undone, and Luca's hai
For a moment, we just stare at each other, the only sound the insistent ringing of the phone. Then, with a low growl, Luca tears his gaze away from mine and reaches for the phone, his voice a rough whisper as he answers the call. “Hello?”, But there’s no answer, it’s dead on the other end. Luca's eyes linger on the phone as he places it back in its place. The call had cut off, but he knows it's not exactly anyone's fault. He'd delayed picking up, and the other end had likely assumed he was unavailable. A faint furrow creases his brow as he ponders who might have been on the other end of the line. There are only two possibilities that come to mind: the reception, if the information is directly for him, or his head of executives. But something about this feels off, a nagging sense that this call was more than just a routine message. Luca's gaze drifts back to mine, his eyes searching for something, though I'm not quite sure what. His gaze falls on mine, and I'm trans
It’s another night. Another night to be fucking humiliated behind a pole I dread nearing so much if not for the demands of the job. And every damn time I ask myself how did I end up here but then there’s the answer so stark in my face that there’s no denying how necessary this is. It’s cruel and I don’t deserve it. It’s unbearable how deceitful I’ve become for the sake of my situation. People even take advantage of it. Being the face of the nightclub, Midnight Dreams, I’m not so desirable by many. Or should I say by my colleagues. Mischief has become my constant companion on set. I've grown accustomed to finding cat fur tangled in my wig, nail polish remover replacing the original contents of my nail polish container, and sand lurking in my foundation. It is all in a night’s work. But as long as the paycheck clears, and Sandy's needs are met, I grit my teeth and tolerate the antics. The scowls and yells are just for show. Deep down, I know I'd put up with far worse for the sak...
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