Mila's POV
Sex with Zayden is consistently exhilarating, and I can't seem to get enough of him. It's been a week since we indulged in an office affair, and I'm eagerly anticipating more of these rendezvous.
A satisfied grin plays on my lips as I drive into the company premises. I've got plans, and I'm steadily working towards them. If everything goes my way, Zayden will be mine for good. This is the dream I'm chasing.
I've dressed in a brown straight skirt paired with a white blouse. My black stiletto heels and light brown handbag complete my attire, matching the elegant look I want to project. I know Zayden will be inside; he's a dedicated workaholic.
The night Zayden and I first crossed paths, we were strangers, yet he looked oddly familiar. I discreetly snapped a picture of his handsome face while he slept, and I headed home the next day after a passionate night together.
When my mother saw his picture on my phone, she recognized him. It turns out that Zayden's father and my father used to be business partners, and I'm well aware this connection will work to my advantage. However, Zayden remains oblivious to this fact, and I have no intention of revealing it until the time is right.
My ultimate goal is to get him hooked, and I plan to achieve this by becoming pregnant with his child. That's my mission, and I'm determined to see it through.
I offer a polite smile to the receptionist, cultivating a friendship with her as part of my plan. I gather valuable information through her and provide her with a monthly stipend.
Over the past three months, even when she hasn't shared any useful information, I've been paying her. I can't afford for her to slow me down with questions, so I make my way towards the elevator.
My pace slows as I spot an older man who bears a striking resemblance to Zayden. He's engaged in a handshake with another elderly gentleman, standing close to the elevator. My initial impulse is to greet him, making my presence known, but I reconsider. It's impossible to step into the elevator without him noticing me. We know each other.
I glance towards the staircase, mentally calculating how long it will take to reach Zayden's office. I'm aware that his father is here to see him, and I feel a sudden urgency. He must see us together.
Without further hesitation, I dash for the staircase. Zayden's office is on the second floor, and I push myself to run, relieved that no one is around to witness my hurried sprint. The thought of someone seeing me in this moment is quite embarrassing.
A few minutes later, I arrive at the office, gasping for breath as if I've just run a marathon. Without wasting another second, I push the door open, relieved that Chloe isn't at her desk today.
Zayden, looking up in surprise, says, "Mila?" It's clear he didn't expect to see me, but he should get used to my presence when he least expects it. I always appear at the right moments, whenever he needs a woman for intimate encounters.
With a cheeky grin and still catching my breath, I walk over to his desk and settle onto his lap. I can already anticipate the questions he'll have about why I'm here and sweating profusely. I can also sense that he's on the verge of scolding me, so I take a different approach – I kiss him. After all, this is why I'm here.
Feeling his arousal pressing against me, I can't contain my excitement. My hands start to explore his body, tracing his biceps and admiring his muscular hands. My mouth moves to his earlobe, where I bite it gently, and then I pepper kisses all over his face and neck.
"Mila?" Zayden groans, shutting his eyes, only to open them when I cease my attentions. We find ourselves locked in a lingering gaze. I adore everything about him, and I'm determined to make him mine. I intend to captivate him with something that will bind us forever, and I'm ready to do whatever it takes to make Zayden my husband. He is my prince charming, my knight in shining armor, the one I've been waiting for all my life.
After Alex left me, I thought I'd never love anyone as deeply as I loved him, but I was mistaken. Now, I find myself utterly captivated by the man whose very presence makes my heart race without pause.
Since parting ways with Alex, I've been a regular at parties, until I met Zayden. His mere gaze can render my legs as wobbly as a jellyfish, his touch sets my heart ablaze, and his kisses illuminate the darkest corners of my life. How could I let him slip through my fingers?
I know he doesn't love me the way I love him, but I'm determined to change that. I recognize that all Zayden initially wanted was a one-night stand, but I want every night with him. I want to hold him close, taste him, and savor him every single day of my life.
This is my one desire, and I'm ready to take any steps necessary to make it a reality.
Bending my head down to kiss him again, he moves his mouth, and my kiss lands on his cheek. I send him a cold glare.
"What are you doing here this early?" Zayden asks in a husky voice. I secretly revel in the desire evident in his voice, and I know he's already in the mood. I'm seated on his lap, my legs apart, with his hardness brushing against a particularly sensitive part of my body.
"I missed you, that's why I'm here," I reply with a sweet smile.
"You know I don't joke about my work. You should always call before coming here," he says. Surprisingly, his reprimand lacks its usual harshness, and I appreciate that. His arousal seems to be clouding his judgment.
"You should get going. I have a lot of work to do," he insists, trying to push me away, but I'm not budging. He gazes at me, and I kiss him again. I'm aware the door is opening, and I pretend not to notice.
I'm confident it's his father entering, and that's precisely what I want. I want his father to witness us together; it will serve my plan well.
We hear an applause, and I quickly rise from his lap, tidying my disheveled hair before turning to face him. Zayden remains seated, making no attempt to move, and he regards his father with an indifferent expression.
"Mila?" he calls out when he spots me. His surprise at my presence is evident.
"Mr. Tristan," I offer a polite greeting with a warm smile. "I apologize for any inconvenience, sir." I grab my bag and make my way towards the exit where he's still standing.
"I never knew you and Zayden were acquainted," he mentions, a comment that puts me at ease.
"Yes, sir, we know each other," I say, offering a shy smile. He nods, his smirk revealing the striking resemblance between father and son, a detail I hadn't initially noticed when I first encountered Zayden.
"I'll be on my way, sir."
"Goodbye, dear. Please give my regards to your father," he says, patting my shoulder.
"Yes, sir," I respond, then turn to look at Zayden. "Goodbye, love." I wink at him before leaving.
Plan A has been executed successfully; it's time to move on to Plan B, and a triumphant smirk plays on my lips as I contemplate the next step.
Zayden perspective I observed the scene unfolding between my father and Mila.How did they know each other? Am I involved with one of my father's acquaintances? I wondered.Mila barely meets my father's gaze, displaying immense respect for him, which piques my curiosity about the connection between them.I've been searching for a way to get rid of her, and understanding her relationship with my father might provide a solution, I thought to myself."You've got yourself a beautiful young lady; I had no idea you'd started dating again," my father commented as he took a seat in my office after Mila had left.I maintained a composed expression, wondering about the purpose of his visit. He doesn't typically come to my workplace, and I haven't been answering his calls. We haven't seen each other for a year."Why are you here?" I asked, my tone stern.He chuckled lightly. "Why wouldn't I be in my son's company? That's quite preposterous," he gestured with his hands to emphasize the ridiculou
Daisy-Belle perspective I'm getting ready for school, recalling the conversation I had with my mom yesterday. Although I don't entirely agree with her advice, I understand her financial struggles. I put on ripped blue jeans, a white shirt, a brown duster jacket, and gray sneakers. After dressing, I check my appearance in the mirror and apply some makeup. I bid my mom farewell, head outside, and flag down a cab, fortunate to find one quickly. A short ride later, I arrive at the campus, pay the cab fare, and enter. Today, I plan to speak with my friend Pamela about my pregnancy and my decision.Pamela is a supportive friend who doesn't pressure me to reveal things I'm not ready to discuss, unlike my mom. She knows I'll confide in her when I'm prepared. This is something Pamela has understood about me that my mom hasn't. I want to talk, and Pamela is the person I trust to share my fears with. She doesn't pick me up from home every day, and today is one of those days.Before I know it, I
Daisy-Belle's Perspective (POV):I'm relieved that the words are finally out, so I exhale deeply, realizing I had been holding my breath. To my surprise, Pam remains silent. I expected her to react with shock or question my decision, but she doesn't say anything.I gradually open my eyes and turn to look at her. She's just observing me, her face devoid of any expression. I can't discern her thoughts or whether she supports my choice. I lower my head, waiting for her response.Pamela has always been the more mature one between us, and I frequently seek her advice. She's like a second mother to me, and I love her dearly."You want to abort the baby?" She finally demands."Yes," I reply sharply."Why?" Her voice is soft.I shrug. "Mom and I talked last night, and we...""And she suggested you have an abortion?" I can hear the disbelief in her tone.Pamela knows me well, and she's aware I wouldn't have considered this without someone planting the idea in my head."No," I lie, trying to pr
Daisy-Belle's Perspective (POV):I watch as Tony walks away, my heart heavy with the disgust he showed me. I can't understand why I'm feeling this way about Tony, but his look has made me feel cheap and worthless."Belle," Pamela returns to my side. She places her hand on my shoulder, waiting for me to lift my head. She must think I'm crying, but I'm not. I want to cry, but no tears come. I'm tired of crying, tired of the problems that keep surfacing. I'm fed up with everything, and I feel like ending it all. One single mistake of mine has brought nothing but shame."Belle?" She calls again."Did you see the way he looked at me?" I ask, raising my head to question her."It doesn't matter," she shakes her head."What?" I exclaim. "It doesn't matter? He's going to tell everyone, he won't like me anymore," I nearly yell.She thinks for a moment before asking me, "Do you like him?"I realize my previous statement was wrong. I'm not even sure if I like Tony, but the idea of him not botheri
"Zayden John Alvarez?" My mom articulates his name after I revealed he's the one I had sex with.She'd snatched the magazine from me, examining his picture as if deciding if he's suitable to be called my baby's father. I know my mom, and I know she's scrutinizing him closely."Alvarez?" Pamela questions as she moves closer to us."He's your baby's father?" She asks upon seeing his picture. Beneath the main image is another photo of him with a girl sitting on his lap, kissing him. I'm avoiding looking at that particular picture. It's clear he's considered a womanizer.I nod gently to Pamela, feeling rather sorry for myself. I'm sure he's already forgotten the night we had together. I wouldn't be surprised if he regarded me as one of those cheap girls he plays around with.I glance at the photo again to see the girl's name, Mila Rodriguez. Is she just one of his flings, or could she be his real girlfriend? I wonder to myself."I can't believe Zayden is your baby's father," Pamela startl
Zayden's POVI know I am not supposed to be here but I also know I have to be here so my ego won't ruin what I have been building for years. I drive into my father's mansion. The concrete huge building full of tall glasses reminds me of many things. One of those things was the day my father stopped beating me and that day was the same day my mother lost her legs. I shut my eyes to let go of the hurt that comes with the memories.That day reminds me of the way I cried so hard and the pain in my mother's eyes that I can still see. The last time I saw my mother was three months ago. I hate coming here, I hate seeing her in pain.I am here because I want to get the award and I want to see my mother. I get out of the car and move towards the door. His domestic staff are all over, muttering their greetings to me. I answer none of the greetings as I walk in.The living room is empty and I wonder where everyone is. My eyes scan the entire place until it falls on a girl coming from a room."G
Zayden's POV"What?" I exclaim with a short laugh. Mother's wish for me to get married sound ridiculous to my ears. I don't see myself ever getting married. I hate being commitment to someone.I don't want to be like my father. I don't see myself getting dressed up to be wedded to some girl. I guess this is because I don't believe in people's thinking that marriage is a happily ever after thing.No, it isn't. It isn't for my parents and I feel it isn't for everyone. We all think it is because of the unrealistic dramas we watch on TVs or read in books. Marriage they say is not a bed of roses, but to me, marriage is a bed full of thorns for both partners. I can't get married. I have enough troubles already, getting married is like adding to the list of problems I am trying to tackle."You know I don't believe.....""Why don't you believe in love and marriage?" She interrupts me. The smile on her face is no longer there, it has been replaced with a worry-laced expression.I shrug. "I
Zayden's POVI walk up to my father's study upstairs after leaving my mother's room. When I get to the door, I hear laughter coming from inside. I knock on the door softly, pushing away the thoughts of the topic of marriage my mother had implanted in my head. I hear a loud "come in", before pushing the door open to enter. Father is sitting on his large mahogany desk filled with books and files and another man is sitting opposite him. They were talking and laughing before my knock interrupted them."Son", father beams and stands up to meet me. The man turns around in his chair to catch a glimpse of me. Father gets to my side and pats my shoulder in a friendly manner. I seethe and grit my teeth, stopping myself from punching him. His touch irritates me. I hate the fact that we look alike because I feel everyone will think we are the same. I am the younger version of my father, but I am more sympathetic than he is."You must be Zayden", the man moves to me, stretching his hand for a h