CHAPTER 1

ELLA'S POV

The buzzing of the music coming in from the speakers make me go wild as I tuned my body's sleek movements in sync with the music. With my hair messed up in what was supposed to be a ponytail, my body covered in a see through gown, I could probably say I had had a pretty great night.

I loved the club, the buzz, it's ever pungent smell of sex and alcohol, the drinks. But everything was typical, just like yesterday and the day before. Scrambling my gaze across the usual crowd of clubbers, the series of flashing lights. I noticed something— someone, a man's intriguing figure, sitting at the mini bar.

"I see you got your eyes on someone," A voice called out to me as I turned my gaze to the tall redhead lady I knew as my best friend, Maggie. Margaret flashed a weird wink of her eyes, a grin spreaded on her cheeks.

"Shut up," I admitted, feeling guilty as we both laughed at each other. "Why not go talk to him," Maggie hollers, her voice calm and cool. My face twisted into a frown, as I shot a smug look back at her, "Well, how am I supposed to do that?"

"You know what, I've got the perfect drink to get you all pumped up." Maggie says walking into the crowd of people in the club headed off to god-knows-where. As the constant buzzing and chering went on, I couldn't help getting my eyes off him, something about him attracted me, something I couldn't quite place my finger on.

"You still got your eyes on that guy?" I heard a voice call and I turned back at the view of Maggie, but this time, with a glass of whiskey. "Have some," She said passing the cup to me as I questioned, "What's in here."

"Just drink it and go talk to that guy." I heard her say as I shoved the entire glass cup to my face gulping down all of it's content without even worrying about it.

I felt a light tinge in my throat as all of a sudden, my eyes started twitching, the loud music fading off into thin air, the crazy mix of clubbers steered away. With a tug of my hair, I walked off towards the mini bar, my eyes fixed on one person, him.

My heels clip-clapped, my previous anxiety unfelt this time around. Upon approaching him, he turned to me. My bloodstream tightens, my legs growing weak as he said, "Well, if it isn’t the most beautiful mystery I’ve seen all night. Can I buy you a drink, or should we skip straight to the part where I make you smile?"

Before I could respond, he turned to the bartender and, with a casual flick of his wrist, said, "Bring her the most expensive drink you’ve got. Spare no expense."

The bartender's eyes widened. "That would be the Louis XIII Rare Cask, sir. It's nearly a million dollars a bottle."

I raised my hand, stopping the bartender. "No, thank you. I don't need anything that extravagant."

His grin widened, a spark of mischief in his eyes. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "Then I guess you want something different. How about I show you how good I can make you feel without spending a dime?"

I nodded, my entire attention buried in his features; his ocean blue eyes, his chestnut hair and every little detail in his almost perfect body. "My keys," He chimed as a figure pulled out from behind me, it was obviously his personal assistant. I could tell from the assistant's shaky hands that he was obviously well revered.

But I didn't care, the only thing I wanted more than ever now was him. He stood up and led me all the way to the grand hotel where I guessed he had a room in. I didn't expect him to be in the premium lounge at the top of the hotel.

Once in, he smiled, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and began to undress me, his hands deft and sure. Every touch ignited a fire within me, and soon we were lost in a whirlwind of passion, the world outside forgotten.

He lifted me effortlessly, placing me on the plush bed in the center of the room. His lips followed, trailing hot kisses down my neck, his hands exploring every inch of my body. My breaths came in ragged gasps, my senses overwhelmed by the intensity of his touch.

"You're incredible," he murmured against my skin, his voice thick with desire. "I need to taste you."

Before I could respond, he trailed kisses down my body, his lips and tongue worshipping every inch of me. He paused at my hips, his eyes meeting mine with a smoldering intensity. "Tell me you want this," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

"Yes," I breathed, my voice trembling with anticipation.

He smiled, his lips curving into a devilish grin, and then he was between my legs, his tongue flicking out to taste me. I gasped, my back arching off the bed as a wave of pleasure crashed over me. He moved with expert precision, his tongue and lips driving me wild as he teased and tormented me, bringing me to the edge again and again.

"D*mn, you taste amazing," he murmured between strokes, his voice sending vibrations through me. He intensified his movements, his hands gripping my thighs as he brought me closer and closer to release. I was lost in the sensation, my world narrowing down to the exquisite pleasure he was giving me.

When I finally climaxed, it was with a cry of pure ecstasy, my body shuddering with the force of it. He didn't stop, his tongue continuing its relentless assault until I was trembling and breathless, utterly spent.

He moved back up, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at me. "You’re even more beautiful when you come undone," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

I reached up, pulling him down for a fierce kiss, tasting myself on his lips. "Now, I want you," I whispered against his mouth, my voice filled with need.

With a growl, he positioned himself above me, and I felt him enter me, filling me completely. I moaned, the sensation of his thick member stretching me making my head spin with pleasure. He paused for a moment, letting me adjust to the size of him, then began to move with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

The feeling of him inside me was indescribable, every thrust sending waves of ecstasy through my body. He moved with a perfect blend of strength and tenderness, his shaft driving deeper with each stroke, hitting spots that made me cry out in pleasure.

"Do you feel that?" he whispered, his voice raw and husky. "That's what it feels like to be with me."

"Yes," I gasped, clinging to him as he moved faster, our bodies perfectly in sync. "Don't stop."

He grinned, his eyes dark with lust. "I don’t plan to."

He quickened his pace, each thrust bringing us closer to the edge. The pleasure built to an almost unbearable intensity, and I felt myself teetering on the brink. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me even closer, his shaft plunging deeper, the friction sending sparks of ecstasy through every nerve.

Finally, we both reached the peak together, a powerful wave of pleasure crashing over us. My entire body shuddered with the force of my orgasm, his name a breathless cry on my lips. He followed moments later, his own release shuddering through him as he collapsed against me, our bodies entwined in the aftermath of our passion.

We lay there for a moment, tangled in each other's arms, our breaths slowing as the intensity of the moment began to fade. He kissed my forehead tenderly, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"I knew you were special," he said softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on my skin.

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the physical. "And I knew you were trouble," I replied, my voice teasing.

He chuckled, pulling me closer. "Maybe. But I'm the kind of trouble you'll want to get into again and again"

****

The memories of my first and last attempt at a one night stand flashed across my mind for the umpteenth time today as I glared at the picture frame in my hands. On the frame was my four year old daughter, the end result of my one night stand, which later turned me into a struggling single mom at the age of 25.

I had always regretted spending the night with him, if I hadn't I would have had the perfect life every girl ever wanted. I would get married off to Luke, my ex, whom I was supposed to marry not untill I screwed it up by foolishly spending a night with a stranger I met at a club.

Day after day, I'd try to wipe off the sadness and anger I felt but I couldn't, it lingered freely in my mind. Pregnancy had been torture for me having to bear the child alone all by my self. As I jerked out of my thoughts, I couldn't help but notice the time on my phone's screen.

It was 4pm, an hour and a half past the normal time Ivy was supposed to be dropped off school. I felt a pang of worry as I dialed her school's number and waited till my call was answered.

"What do you mean Ivy has already been dropped off by the school bus?" I yelled over the phone. My heartbeats quickened, fear cramping into my mind at the thoughts of my four year old daughter, Ivy, going missing in the busy streets of Brooklyn.

Anything could happen, she could get kidnapped, harassed, or even taken hostage. I couldn't bear the thoughts of that as I hung up the call to the sound of my daughters school telling me to wait 24hrs before reaching out to the police.

Hell no I wouldn't, how could a mother rest knowing her daughter is missing. I hurriedly dialed an emergency line on my phone, my fingers shaking like a winter leaf. I waited as my call was redirected off to a worker at 911.

"Hello, I am calling to report the case of my missing daughter," I rushed, my words skittering. I could feel the fear gleaming more and more as the weight of my predicament settled in.

"Calm down ma'am," the caller on the other end tried to calm me down as she continues, "I will need you to give me the details of your missing daughter."

"Uumm, she's four, blonde, in a pink dress, black bag.." I struggled trying to remember the details. My lips wobbled as I waited for a response from the representative, "May I know for how long your daughter has been missing?"

"I don't know, maybe for an ho-" I was about to finish my sentence when my doorbell rings as I abandoned the call and sprinted as fast as I could to the door.

"Mummy, I've found Daddy!"

A frisson of shock fills me at the sound of the calling voice, my heart caught in an array of unmatched beats. Turning immediately to the direction of the door, I wiped my forehead, my face almost turning red with anger. I could perfectly recognize the voice, it was that of my four year old daughter, Ivy.

I had had enough. Enough of her games, she has always had me worked up with her silly games. She would go off to a stranger she found attractive and pretend she was lost just to bring him home to me in order to match us up. She had tried to play matchmaker for the third time this week and it never gets old. Every now and then, she would pretend to be lost and have a handsome man bring her home and try to pair us up. But this had better have to stop.

"Thank you for dropping her," I was saying as I raised my face to see the man that had brought her home. My jaw fell as I gazed at the face of the stranger that had brought back my daughter home this time around. It was Rodriguez, my one night stand, Ivy's father.