My heart is racing inside my chest while I step inside Judy Hills, dressed in the clothes Zayne had picked for me. A typical white shirt and a pair of beige trousers but I'm sure they cost a fortune because this is Laurier we're talking about. Talking about him, he's been staring at me since he came to my house along with Keith. He's walking beside me, his posture and steps so determined, and his cologne filling my nostrils. "Who is this?" Someone's voice makes him stop and I turn to him, only to see him glaring. "Why are you letting random people work here? Did she pass any interviews? Or are you- oh." Zayne's fist is so tight he could break it and I just stand there, feeling so small under that man's gaze. It doesn't seem like he's one of the few people Zayne tolerates and it seems that he doesn't want me here. I mean, I'm thankful Zayne got me this opportunity. I'm going to work hard and do my job properly and earn my place here. "Cummings, it's early in the morning and I'm in
Zayne's eyes widen in surprise as he looks up at me, his dark hair falling slightly into his face before he cocks his eyebrow. For a moment, we just stare at each other, the air heavy with the memory of the night I can't forget myself. I can see the desire flickering in his eyes, and I know that he feels the same way that I do. Maybe even more."Do you know-" The knocking on the door makes him stop and I clear my throat, looking back at the documents in front of me. "Come in."The door opens and I can see someone walk inside from the corner of my eye. But when I hear her voice, I turn to look at her. The first thing I think about when I look at her is how beautiful she is. Damn. She's a tall, elegant figure with dark hair and sharp features, dressed in a power suit, with a crisp white blouse and a skirt that hugs her curves in all the right places.When she turns to me, my eyes widen but she just smiles. "Oh. Hello.""Hello." I stand up and stretch my hand for her to shake, yet she tu
Myla Bright is a fucking menace. Her mere presence is enough distraction and I find myself wanting her more and more. It's fucking with my brain and heart and it's almost making me go insane. I know I can't let myself get too caught up in her. She's just a distraction, and I have goals I need to achieve. I can't let myself get sidetracked by a woman, no matter how alluring she may be. And yet, every time she talks to me, laughs, or touches my arm, I feel myself falling deeper and deeper under her spell. It's like I'm under her control and can't break free. "Am I going to be okay?" The way her hips move while she walks in front of me is so fucking beautiful and the fact that she doesn't even realize it makes me more frustrated. Oh, the spell you have me under. "Helbert is nice." I cock an eyebrow at her before I knock on his door, looking at her while she fidgets with her fingers. And when I hear his voice, I open the door and usher her to step inside. "Zayne," The old wrinkly smil
A whole week had passed since what happened with Zayne. I've been thinking about it nonstop, how he clutched onto me and cried his heart out, and how he shook in my arms that all I wanted was to protect him from whatever was making him feel that way. But he's been so distant I'm starting to worry about him. I did think that he was an asshole, and whenever he opened his mouth, he proved it right. But him not speaking to me - unless necessary - for a whole week is making me frustrated. The rides are so silent and awkward that Keith ends up asking what's wrong between the two of us. "I had a stressful day." His answer is always the same but it doesn't make me feel at ease. Keith is not the one driving today since he had something urgent to take care of, so I'm stuck with Zayne who seems to not want me here in the first place. But it's also my chance to talk to Zayne about whatever's going on. So, when he stops in front of my house, I decide to take a deep breath and break the silence
My heart races as I look into her eyes and sit on my bed, letting her in between my legs. Having Myla get on her knees to suck me off is a sight for sore eyes. The way she looks up at me makes me feel like I'm the king of this whole world. I spread my legs, offering myself to her as her hands trail down my thighs, pulling down my pants to expose my cock straining against my Calvin Klein boxers. Her fingers play with the hem of the waistband as she smiles a little at me. "You're so eager." She purrs, sugary sweet. My heart races even faster at the sound of her voice, my arousal growing with each passing second. And I nod unable to form coherent words as I watch her hold my boxers, pulling them down slowly to reveal my throbbing cock. She runs her fingers up and down my shaft, teasing me with her touch as she gazes up at me with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Myla, for fuck's sake-" When she leans in and takes me into her mouth, I gasp, the sensation of her warm lips and wet tongue sendi
Oh boy, where do I start with Roger "Moneybags" Johnson? I mean, his name might as well be "Numbers" because that's all he ever talks about. I swear, if I hear one more financial acronym or jargon, my head might explode. You know those Wall Street types you see in movies? The ones with slicked-back hair, expensive suits, and a constant look of superiority on their faces? That's Roger, except he's taken it up a notch with a pair of gold-rimmed glasses that look like they could pay my salary for a year. The guy dresses like he's going to a black-tie event every day, and I'm pretty sure he owns more suits than I own shoes. And don't even get me started on his office. It's like walking into a math museum, with graphs and charts covering every inch of wall space. "Good morning, everyone. Thank you for being here today." I'm sitting next to Zayne whose eyes are glued on his phone. "We have a lot to cover, so let's get started. First, I'd like to update you on our financial performance. O
He's a fucking asshole. I keep telling myself this all the way back home. Why is he so freaking annoying? One minute he says he wants only me then the next pushing me away like I'm nothing to him. When I step inside my house, I slam the door shut and let out a heavy sigh. "That crazy asshole," I mutter, tossing my shoes somewhere before I walk into the living room, only to freeze in my spot. Why is he here...? "Oh, Myla," Daniel stands up from the couch, his eyes wide open. "Hey." What the hell is happening? I look around for Mom but she's nowhere to be seen, but when I hear the bathroom door open, I look around, my heart dropping at the sight. She's wrapped in a towel and her eyes are wide open, guilt clear on her face. "Myla..." She starts, doing anything but looking me in the eye. "Why are you home early?" "What's happening?" I'm about to lose it for real. Daniel and Mom? This is ridiculous. "Actually, don't tell me. I just... I'll leave." "Wait, Myla, I'll-" I can hear her
I never found work boring. In fact, It has always been the only thing I could do to take my mind off things. That, or fucking someone. It's a way to release all the pent-up tension and stress that I tend to be carrying around. They're the two things that keep me sane, yet since that one day I met Myla, nothing does its job anymore. It's been two hours since she stormed out of the office, leaving me like a lost puppy. I can't focus on work, and the thought of sex with anyone else seems unappealing. I hate the way she makes me feel so weak and vulnerable like my life depends on her. It's a feeling that I'm not used to, and it's unsettling. I've always been in control of my emotions and my life, but with Myla, I feel like I'm at her mercy. Part of me wants to push her away, to distance myself from this overwhelming attraction. But another part of me wants her so bad it fucking annoys me. I've always been a player, but now this feels like a dangerous game and I'm not sure if I'm ready
"Pretty, do you have to meet him?" Zayne wraps his arms around me as I look in the mirror and I can see how worried he is. "I mean it makes sense the two of you should talk things out, after all, but I don't know. I just want you to be safe.""I don't think Alex would ever think of hurting me." I wince. "At least not physically.""Emotional pain can be as damaging, Myla." His voice is so soft as he pulls me closer, his warmth enveloping me. "I can't help but worry about what it might do to you."I turn to face him, cupping his face in my hands. "We both need to have this conversation. I need to understand things and he needs a chance to at least try and explain himself. It's been eating at me for a while." I'd like to have a conversation with Alex because deep down, I'm still hoping that he wasn't entirely pretending to be my best friend. Because I know that at some point, he genuinely cared about me. Zayne's eyes soften, and he gently intertwines his fingers with mine. "I know. I kn
Myla is back home. After the sleepless nights with her by my side, she's finally back home, where she belongs. It feels as though the world had regained its vibrant colors, and the weight of my worries lifted from my weary shoulders. Holding her in my arms, I can feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the steady rhythm that assures me she is indeed real and not a figment of my imagination. The scent of her hair, the familiar touch of her hand on my cheek, it all makes me feel as if all the pieces of my scattered world had finally found their rightful place. And I'm complete. We spent the whole morning making love. I'd call it fucking but it'd sound crude and devoid of everything we felt in those intimate moments. I kissed her waist and traced my fingertips along the curve of her spine, savoring the goosebumps that appeared in response to my touch. I made sure she knew how devoted I was to her, how her presence in my life had turned me into a better version of myself, how deepl
I stand in front of the house as I take a deep breath, calming down my racing heart. When I step inside, there's no sign of life. The kitchen is in pristine order, as if untouched for days. The place is very quiet and Keith's words hit me hard. He was right. I wonder if Zayne is alright. Our bedroom door is closed and I slowly approach it, my hand trembling as I reach for the doorknob. The laughter, the arguments, the stolen kisses in this very room feel like a distant dream when the door creaks and I catch a glimpse of Zayne huddled on the bed, his face buried in his hands. My heart sinks, and I rush to his side, kneeling down to meet his gaze. "Zayne," I whisper, my voice filled with concern. "Are you okay?" He looks up at me, his eyes so red and filled with pain. He looks at me for a moment, taking in my sudden presence and it breaks my heart to see him like this. He tries to speak, but his voice catches in his throat as he wraps his arms around me as if clinging to the last shre
I spent the past few days locked in my room, the blanket over my body not able to provide the warmth I desperately wish for. Time seems to stand still as I gaze at the world through my window, my eyes tracing the distant horizon. It carries on with its usual rhythm, laughter drifting in from a distance, mingling with the sound of passing cars and chirping birds. But in my room, I'm trapped. Zayne had been calling and texting but I had been unable to bring myself to answer. Although I miss him so much I find myself overwhelmed with emptiness, I don't think I'm ready to face anyone, actually. The thought of trusting someone is disturbed by the thought of them deceiving me, and I find myself questioning if this pain is worth the risk. Zayne said he wanted to protect me. Mom said she wanted to protect me. But all they did was make me feel suffocated as if I were a fragile bird trapped in a cage. I sigh and stand up from my bed, walking out of my room when I stop in front of the mirror
She's not home. When I can't find her anywhere, my heart sinks into a deep well of worry. I quickly grab my phone, trembling fingers fumbling to dial her number. Each ring feels like an eternity as I anxiously wait for her to pick up, but there's no answer, only the cold, impersonal voicemail greeting. I stand in the middle of the empty living room, my footsteps echoing in the silence as if mocking my growing unease. I never wanted to imagine a situation like this. I never wanted to hurt her. The thought of losing her make my breath catch in my throat. Guilt floods over me, adding to the worry that grips my heart. I figure she's back home with her mother so I call her, and when she answers, I feel a flicker of hope ignite within me. She says Myla is home and I let out a shaky sigh of relief, feeling the tension release from my body. Instinctively, I take my car and drive to her house because her mere presence can bring me to life again. But I know what awaits me and it breaks my hear
I stand at the door, staring at Zayne as he presses a knife to Alex's neck, not really sure if I want him dead or not. I thought our movie might end with us being friends again if we tried enough, but the ending credits are rolling and my heart sinks to the deepest pit of my stomach when the realization hits me. Alex was never my best friend. My whole life had been a lie. The people I once cherished, who I believed would always be there for me, had proven to be the very ones who would bring me to the edge of my own destruction. Mom, Alex, and now Zayne. "Myla... I-" His voice trails off as he tries to find the right words, but his actions have already spoken volumes. He lets go of the knife and it clatters to the ground as I take a step back, wrapping my arms around myself because I'm the only one I can trust now. I'm the only one who can protect myself now. "Is it true?" It feels as if I was separated from my body, and now I'm watching her almost from a distance. My whole body is
I stare at the video recordings playing on my laptop, blood boiling in my veins. My fists are so tight my knuckles are pale and strained. The thought of her fragile heart shattering into a million pieces makes me want to break Alex's face. Watching the recording feels like a knife twisting in my gut. I asked Keith some time ago to find out why I didn't get Myla's job application and here I am watching someone hand it to Alex in the parking garage with a bag I assume filled with stacks of cash. My mind is filled with unanswered questions about who the man is and why is Alex involved in this. I can't brush off how shady all of this is because the next thing I watch is another recording of Alex crumbling the papers before he threw them in a nearby trash can and got on top of Myla's motorcycle, driving away as if he had just committed the perfect crime. The sight of him callously destroying Myla's application makes me rage. I remember her telling me about how she had been hopeful that
Alex was my best friend. He's the kind of person to remind you of oversized flannels, baggy jeans, and messy hair. I loved that about him, he was effortlessly cool and the sweetest guy you'll ever meet. He had the ability to make me feel seen and he'd go out of his way to brighten my day whether that be cracking a joke about how he looked like he just rolled out of bed or surprising me with my favorite treat when I least expected it.He felt like adventure and freedom rolled into one. He was hungry for the unknown and new experiences. While others hurried through life, Alex would pause to appreciate the way the sunlight filtered through the trees or the sound of rain on a rooftop. He taught me to slow down. Yet here I am, racing through our memories together while standing across from him. His humor was like a ray of sunshine, brightening my world and reminding me not to take life too seriously. But now it feels like he's sucking his teeth into me, bleeding me dry of everything I onc
Seeing Zayne be happy and comfortable with himself brings me joy that I can't put into words. A weight had been lifted off both our shoulders and now we can love each other better. We're sitting in the meeting room waiting for the others to arrive, and he brushes a strand of hair off my face. His touch is gentle and the smile he gives me makes me melt. "Your eyes are beautiful." He whispers softly and his words sink into my heart, igniting a flame of affection and desire. I playfully bat my eyelashes at Zayne, feigning surprise. "Oh really? Well, I guess I'll have to start charging admission for people to gaze into them." "I would bankrupt myself a thousand times over just to have the privilege," His words send a shiver down my spine, and butterflies take flight in the depths of my stomach. "If the world knew the depth of beauty that lies within your eyes, they would willingly give up everything they own just for a fleeting glimpse." "Were you always this good at flirting? You're