A night with a stranger

Bianca's POV

The conference room's sterile air seemed to suffocate me as I absorbed the blow. 'Terminated.' The word, as written on my sack letter reverberated in my mind like a death knell. My body felt drained, my thoughts racing with frantic questions. I stood transfixed, my gaze locked on the vacant space where my boss had stood moments before. So this is it?

My life's work, the project I'd dedicated five years of relentless passion and innovation to, had been ruthlessly seized from me. The devastating blow was compounded by my abrupt termination from the company, without even a whisper of recognition for my tireless efforts. Countless sleepless nights, endless hours of refinement, and unwavering devotion – all discarded like yesterday's trash. The weight of betrayal and loss suffocated me, as my masterpiece slipped through my fingers, leaving me with nothing but shattered dreams and wasted potential.

The manager's words still rang in my head, his words cutting through me like a venom laced dagger: 'Bianca, I suppose we are finished with you. Get out. Now. Your little project? It's Tate Industry's property. You have no claim, no recourse. And don’t even waste your breath on the police; they'll never take your side. You're nothing but a discarded pawn, and no one will believe a word you say so just be wise and walk away darling...'

He was right. Of course, no one would take sides with a nobody like me over a huge company like Tate Industry.

I gripped my bag tighter, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to scream, Cry, Do something, anything, that would help release the rage welling up inside me. Instead, I gently walked out of the building, my steps heavy as I passed through the glass door with my stuff. It felt like everything around me was spinning as I got into my car, driving home.

Was it all over?

Of Course it was. I am doomed!

Everything I worked for to build up something for myself was all gone. I still remember my manager telling me how I would get enough share of the money once it got launched. How could I be so stupid to believe anything he said?

The night was still young when I walked into Electric, a night club I've heard about but never visited because I was diligent with work. What did all that diligence pay me with? Loud music thumped through the walls, the bass resonating in my chest as I walked into the dimly lit atmosphere. I needed to drink away my sorrows, maybe, just maybe I’ll wake up and not feel this much pain anymore, maybe my heart won’t ache this much when I wake up.

Heading straight to the bar, I slid onto a stool, barely giving the bartender a glance as I muttered my order. “Vodka. Straight.”

Then I could see the bartender pause for the moment, making me turn to him. He raised a brow but after a glance at me, he obliged. I downed the shit as soon as it landed on the counter, the liquid burning its way down my throat, briefly distracting me from the pain and anguish in my chest.

Another! another! another! I kept telling after downing each one.

I wasn't sure how many drinks I had before someone slid onto the barstool next to me, but I noticed him right away. The stranger was effortlessly handsome, with dark hair and an air of confidence around him. His eyes met mine briefly it was literally glowing under the dim lights.

He looked heavenly. “Has anyone ever told you how handsome you look?” I blurted out before I could stop myself and he turned his head to me for the second time before letting out a small chuckle. Even his chuckle was so hot and I felt a weird sensation in my stomach. After college, I never really dated any man just to focus on myself and my now crying career and acting this way felt strange.

“I get that a lot,” he hummed as the bartender placed his order before him and I knew he hadn't said a word to the bartender so that meant he was a regular here. “Put hers on my tab.” He added and the bartender nodded with a small smile.

I shook my head with a frown before tapping my bag. “I didn't ask for that. I can pay for my stuff myself .”

“You didn't have to,” he replied, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “You looked like you need it.”

“I'm not in the mood for company.” I said bluntly, the wheels in my head turning and I expected him to look at me weirdly but he didn't and just chuckled again.

“Good,” he said easily, his smirk not leaving his lips as he lifted his drink to chug it down all once. His Adam's apple bobbed and I unconsciously licked my lips. “Neither am I.” He said with a sly smile.

For a while, we sat in comfortable silence and I couldn't help myself but start a conversation despite being tipsy. It was one of the reasons I drank with someone, I tend to yap a lot when getting drunk. “What's your name?” I asked, turning to look at him.

“Does it matter?” he asked softly, taking down the third glass. “I thought you didn't want company.”

“Come dance with me.” I asked and without his approval, I pulled his hand, practically dragging him to the dance floor. He was a lot taller than I was and I didn't notice that until now that I was standing in front of him.

I didn't know who this hot stranger was, but it was the least I could do as payback for noticing my miserable state. “Aaahh, this feels good.” I said at the top of my lungs as I swayed to the music in his arms.

“You don't seem like someone who would just drink for fun. Did your boyfriend break up with you?” He asked with a slightly raised brow and I wanted to laugh.

“Boyfriend? I haven't had one in years. I've even forgotten how to kiss a guy.” I chuckle gently as my eyes settled on his lips. The sent of alcohol was lingering on him, and the thought of kissing him filled my senses.

A reckless craving consumed me - to lose myself in a stranger's arms, to erase the anguish through a fleeting, string-free encounter. I yearned for the intoxicating release of a one-night stand, where the only expectation was mutual satisfaction, and the only consequence was a hazy morning-after memory.

“Let’s spend the night together,” I said, the words tumbling out in a reckless whisper. He hesitated, his eyes searching mine for a fleeting moment. “No strings attached,” I assured him, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don't want anything from you.”

I rose onto my tiptoes, arms encircling his neck, and leaned in for a kiss. But he caught my wrists, his fingers wrapping around them like a gentle vice.

“Uhm, wait,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re drunk,” he said, his hands grasping my wrists to halt my advance, but his restraint only fueled my defiance.

"My drunkenness doesn't dictate my desires," I whispered, pulling free from his grasp. "I know what I want, and tomorrow, we'll part ways. No strings, no regrets." With that, I pressed my lips to his, the kiss deepening as I poured my longing into it. He didn't resist, his mouth yielding to mine with a surrender that ignited a fierce passion within.

The kiss ignited a spark within me, its warmth spreading like wildfire. Years of dormancy melted away, and I felt like a teenager experiencing her first kiss all over again - the same nervous thrill, the same intoxicating rush. His arms enveloped me, pulling me into a fierce, hungry kiss that left me breathless. His lips devoured mine, the desire and longing was so strong, sending shivers down my spine. I could taste the craving in his mouth, feel the urgency in his embrace, and it only fueled my own craving.

Maybe he hadn't had any woman too in a while. Lost in the frenzy of our kiss, we stumbled towards the elevator, kissing and fondling each other. The doors slid open, and we spilled out into the corridor, still locked in our passionate embrace. 'Wait, hold on,' he panted, suddenly breaking away. His eyes blazed with urgency as he grasped my hand, pulling me down the hall to a door that swung open with a swift swipe of his card. We spilled into the hotel room, the door clicking shut behind us, leaving us alone to explore our desires.

I could wait anymore and just pulled him back into the kiss as he opened the door. I was needy, I wanted him so badly. I wanted to have him in me badly and I wasn't hiding it.

Immediately we got into the room, his hands found its way to my dress, yanking off the straps in a swift motion and the dress slid to my feet. The warmth of his touch on my body made me shudder and my body responded like it had always known his touch. Fuck, I wanted more and more.

*

I slowly emerged from the haze of sleep, my eyelids heavy as lead, my mouth parched and dry. The faint rustling sound nearby was the first thing that registered. As I struggled to focus, sunlight seeped through the edges of the heavy curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the unfamiliar room. Disoriented, I realized I wasn't in my own bed – the plush mattress and soft linens were a far cry from my humble surroundings. Memories of the previous night began to resurface, hazy and fragmented.

I lay still, my mind fogy as fragments of the previous night gradually coalesced. Memories resurfaced in fits and starts: the gut-wrenching news at work, the numbing drinks at the club, and then... him. The stranger. My thoughts sharpened, and with a jolt of clarity, reality hit: I'd awakened in a stranger's bed, the consequence of a drunken, reckless night. I felt a little shame wash over me, followed by a self-directed curse: Damn it!

My heart pounded when I noticed I wasn't the only one in bed. I slowly turned my head, expecting to see the man from last night laying next to me, but he wasn't there. Instead, he was standing at the door of the room, his shoulders tense and his expression cold with fury.

I blinked as he glared at me, confused and groggy. “What's it? What's going on?” I asked confused as to why he stared as though he wanted to rip my head off.

Without a word, he tossed something onto the bed– his phone. I picked it up, my breath catching in my throat as I stared at the screen.

Dang!

It was a picture of us– him, holding me in his arms, passionately kissing and some other pictures taken when we were obviously in the room– was plastered across every social media platform. It shot up overnight. There were thousands of headlines; Billionaire CEO, Hayes Caldwell, Spotted in Intimate Moment with Mystery woman.

That wasn't what surprised me at all. What surprised me was the fact that he was the Hayes Caldwell. The freaking rich CEO worth hundreds billions.

“Oh my freaking days! What the hell is this?”