"Can I open my eyes now?" I asked for what felt like the hundredth time. Andra was pulling my hair in every direction and going on and on about how, by the time she was done, I’d be wishing I joined her modeling agency.
"Just one more moment," she replied, clearly losing patience with my tantrums. Finally, she relented. "You can open your eyes now," she said, her voice full of excitement. I blinked and shot her a glare before turning to the mirror. "Woah," I breathed, my voice laced with surprise. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I look hot." I wasn’t exaggerating. My emerald eyes were smoky, my ginger hair had been curled perfectly, and my lips—inviting, full—gave off an enthralling vibe. It was the kind of look that would make anyone take a second glance. "I look beautiful," I smiled, genuinely impressed. "Thank you, Andra." "Told ya you’d like it," she teased, hands on her hips. "Now, for the costume... tada!" With a flourish, she pulled out a dress from behind her. I gasped. "How did you even find time for this? I thought we were just going to a club." "Well, I work as a model, duh," she said, rolling her eyes. "Plus, I knew you’d say yes. Let’s just say I prepared everything ahead of time. Oh, and a little confession—we’re actually going to a costume-themed party. Strictly for models. But I didn’t want to go alone, and I figured you could use one last wild night before you sail into the ship of motherhood and have little Laydens running around." I shot her a disapproving look, already regretting agreeing to this. "No, no, no," Andra said, catching my expression. "Don’t give me that look. You’re not backing out now. And before you say anything about Layden not liking it, let me remind you—he’s not here, and I am. Now go try it on." She tossed the dress in my direction, and I hesitated, then reluctantly headed to the changing room. When I stepped out, Andra’s eyes went wide. "Wow, Cleopatra’s got nothing on you, baby girl. Are you hot, or am I stoned?" she teased. I blushed, my pale skin glowing against the golden embroidery of the dress. It fit like a glove. The deep neckline and the thigh-high slits showed just enough skin to be daring, yet tasteful. If I saw me in a crowd, I wouldn't stop staring. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and for a moment, I wondered what Layden would think if he saw me like this. Would he love it? Maybe I could surprise him. I felt my cheeks flush at the thought. Andra handed me some jewelry: gold bangles, a chunky necklace that plunged between my cleavage, and a few waist chains to accentuate my slim waist. The dress was nothing short of scandalous—leaving my thighs bare and my curves on full display. "You look sexy mama," Andra said, her voice deadpan. "But you won’t hear it until we get to the party. Snow White, let’s go, we’re late." She grabbed a pair of high heels and tossed them to me. "How high are these death traps?" I asked, eyeing the eight-inch heels with a mix of awe and trepidation. "What? You want to party with models, you gotta look the part," Andra said, already slipping on her own sky-high heels. "The higher the heels, the more attention you get." I took the heels with a reluctant sigh, struggling to balance as I strapped them on. Almost losing my footing, I flailed—but Andra caught me just in time, laughing hysterically. "Careful there," she teased, still chuckling. "You’ll get used to it." We made our way out of the apartment and into her sleek black Camry. "How long have you been planning this?" I asked, as we zoomed off toward the party. she flashed a mischievous grin. "Since forever. You just didn’t know it." Throughout the ride, I kept checking my phone for any missed calls or texts from Layden, but there was nothing. Andra, as if sensing my worry, turned to me. "Janice, put down your phone. He’s probably somewhere with his guys, having a good time. I’m pretty sure he’ll call you when he gets a chance. Who knows? Maybe they took his phone away to stop him from contacting you. After all, it’s his bachelor night too," she said with a reassuring smile. I nodded, shaking off the negative thoughts that tried to creep in. "And we’re here!" Andra chimed, pulling into a parking lot just in time. We got out of the car, and I looked around, stunned by the surroundings. "Well, will you look at that. The rich keep getting richer," Andra exclaimed, and we shared a look of mutual disbelief. It wasn’t an apartment like Andra had explained—it was a freaking penthouse. Music blasted from inside, vibrating through the walls. The building itself was sleek, towering over everything else around it. The entrance was lined with tall palm trees, the kind you only see in the movies. As we approached, I could see the reflection of the lights from the city skyline shimmering in the glass of the windows. This was a whole new world, one I wasn’t used to. We walked in, and the vibe hit me like a wave. The place was sprawling, open, and luxurious. The first thing I noticed was the ambient lighting. LED strips were tucked into every corner, casting a soft, blue glow across the entire room. Despite the dim lighting, the space felt alive—people moving, laughing, talking, with shadows and silhouettes flickering as they moved through the haze of smoke and flashing lights. It was like stepping into a scene from a music video. The walls were adorned with abstract art and designer furniture that screamed ‘money.’ In the center of the room, there was a grand staircase leading up to a second level, overlooking the party. Everywhere you looked, there were people dressed to impress, their faces barely visible under the glow of neon lights. Andra yelled over the music, "So I know you don’t drink, so I’ll grab you some coke. Just wait here and don’t take anything from anyone!" I nodded, still taking in the surreal scene before me. As Andra disappeared into the crowd, I leaned against the bar, scanning the room. This was not my world—at least not yet. I waited sheepishly for thirty minutes, but Andra still hadn’t returned. And how did I know? The grand clock on the opposite wall stared boldly back at me, mocking my patience. I groaned in annoyance. I was hungry, tired, and slowly growing restless. Andra had been right—the models didn’t come to play. They looked flawless, their skin glowing under the neon lights, their outfits exuding effortless glamour. The scent of weed lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of expensive cologne and something else—marijuana, pot, smoke—it was everywhere, thick enough to make my stomach churn. I needed water. Or food. Or something. Anything. I pushed my way through the throng of bodies, heading toward the flight of stairs where I had last seen Andra go. The pulsing bass of the music rattled through my chest as I searched for a bathroom. Finally, I found it. The moment I stepped inside, I felt like I had walked into another dimension. The bathroom—had marble sinks, golden fixtures, dim lighting that casts a soft glow on the room, mirrors so pristine they looked like portals to another world. I exhaled, taking a moment to check my reflection in the mirror. The smoky eye makeup Andra had done still held, making my emerald eyes stand out even more. My ginger curls cascaded in perfect waves over my shoulders, framing my face. I looked... exotic. Just then, I heard a flush. Turning toward the sound, I watched as a girl stepped out of a stall. She was tall and impossibly thin, her raven-black hair sleek and straight, falling down her back like a curtain. She wore a cheerleading uniform—but not the kind you’d see on a football field. This version was scandalously short, sinfully tight, and paired with dangerously high heels. "Hello," I said, attempting to make conversation. She gave me a slow once-over before smiling. "Hi. I'm Samantha." Then, tilting her head slightly, she added, "I know you." I blinked, taken aback. "You do?" She nodded, her lips curling into a smirk. "Yeah. I’ve seen your pictures on Sandra’s phone. You’re the one who’s getting married." "Oh." I felt my cheeks warm. "Yes, that’s me. Janice. And tonight is my last night single." "Congratulations." She grinned, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a handful of gummy worms. She placed them in my palm. "Consider this my wedding gift. You look like you could use some of these." I laughed, grateful. "Thanks. I was actually getting pretty hungry." Without a second thought, I popped a few into my mouth, savoring the sugary sweetness. They tasted a little... off. A bit too tangy. But I waved the thought away and kept chewing. Samantha watched me with amusement before chuckling. "Alright then, bride-to-be. I’ll see you around." With that, she turned and disappeared through the door, leaving me alone. Finishing off the last gummy worm, I headed up another flight of stairs, drawn by the curiosity of what lay beyond. The air was different here—thicker, heavier, charged with something unspoken. Two large, buff men guarded a sleek, dark door at the top. I tried talking to them, but they barely acknowledged me. Before I could protest, a soft hand slipped into mine. "It’s okay, guys. She’s with me," Samantha’s voice purred from beside me. The guards exchanged glances before giving a curt nod, stepping aside. As soon as I stepped inside, the change in atmosphere hit me like a wave. The room was darker, the energy more intense. This was no ordinary party—this was something else. A VIP section, but with a dangerous, almost forbidden edge. It was worse than the chaos downstairs. More crowded. More reckless. Bodies moved in sync to the sultry rhythm of the music. The lights flickered in hypnotic patterns, casting shadows that danced along the walls. A giggle bubbled from my lips, uncontrollable and unexpected, like a spring that had been coiled too tightly and suddenly burst free. I clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to stifle it, but it escaped anyway, loud and unhinged, drawing a few curious glances from the crowd around me. Weird, I thought, my mind feeling hazy, like I was floating just outside my body, watching myself from a distance. My cheeks flushed, and I shook my head, trying to clear the fog, but it clung to me like a second skin. That’s when it hit me—the gummy worms. Those damn gummy worms. I reached out, my hand unsteady, and grabbed a shot glass from a passing waiter’s tray. The liquid inside was a deep amber, catching the light like molten gold. I didn’t even think twice—just threw it back in one go, the sharp burn of whiskey or tequila or whatever it was scorching a path down my throat. I coughed, my eyes watering, and Samantha chuckled beside me, her hand landing on my back with a firm pat. “Easy there, tiger,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “You’re supposed to sip those, not drown in them. Now let's go have the time of our lives, bride-to-be," she chided. I nodded, my brain suddenly flooded with a strange, hyper buzz. It was like my blood had been replaced with liquid electricity, pulsing through my veins. I let the music take me. I danced, swayed, arms brushing against unfamiliar bodies. Laughter spilled from my lips as faceless strangers pulled me close. Warm hands roamed over my hips. Someone's lips grazed my neck. My heart pounded, a frantic, dizzy rhythm. And I didn’t stop them. I didn’t stop any of it. Because, for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t thinking. I was just... feeling. And God, it felt good!The bass reverberated through my body, sinking into my skin like a second heartbeat. My limbs felt light, my head dizzy with a strange, electric rush.I swayed, arms thrown over the shoulders of some faceless stranger, laughing at nothing and everything. The heat of the bodies around me was suffocating, intoxicating. My heart raced, my skin burned, and I welcomed it.Until I felt it.A gaze.Heavy. Dark. Unyielding.It cut through the flashing lights, through the haze in my mind, through the feverish daze that had consumed me. A chill that had nothing to do with the air. A weight that settled over me like a slow drag of silk against bare skin.Someone was watching me.I stilled, my heart knocking against my ribs as my gaze flickered across the room. Everything was a blur of light and motion, but then I saw them—the booths in the far corner, nestled in the shadows, off-limits yet occupied. Unlike the rest of the room, wild with laughter and sin, those seats belonged to men who didn’t n
I turned off the water and stepped out, my skin still humming from the warmth. Grabbing a towel from the rack, I dried myself quickly, my breath unsteady as I walked to the mirror.The towel slipped from my grasp, pooling at my feet.I stared at my reflection, running my hands over my bare skin. My breasts were full, swollen with a need that had long gone unanswered. My hips curved in perfect symmetry, a silent invitation—one that had never been accepted.I had the body of a vixen and the mind of a nerd. Two sides of a coin that never should have fit together. But it was those two sides that had made Adonis swoon.A wistful smile tugged at my lips.Adonis.He had never tried to suppress my fire. He had wanted me exactly as I was—brains, beauty, and all the chaos in between.I sighed, shaking the thought away as I reached for my phone on the dresser. My heart did a stupid little jump, hoping for a missed call or a message from Layden.Nothing.I groaned in frustration, tossing my phone
"Girl, wake up!" Andra yelled, shaking me half-haphazardly.I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow. "Nooo, Andra. What time is it?""It's 7 a.m.! You're going to be late for your own wedding!" she shrieked. "Wake up, Janice Felicia O'Brian!""Shit!" I cursed, jolting upright as panic surged through me. I was going to be late for my own wedding.Without sparing a second glance, I dashed into the bathroom, taking the fastest shower of my life. By the time I stepped out, Andra was already waiting, towel in hand. She helped dry my hair before sitting me in front of the mirror, her fingers already working their magic.I exhaled deeply, still catching my breath. "Thank you, Andra," I murmured sincerely.Finally taking a good look at her, I realized she was already showered, her makeup flawless, her hair done to perfection—though, true to Sandra fashion, she was still draped in her robe, no doubt savoring every moment before slipping into her dress."My mom and sister should be he
Layden's grip tightened on my hand, the warmth of his touch grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling in my chest. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only him and me, standing at the altar, surrounded by the whispers and stares of onlookers. But none of that mattered. Not now. I looked up at him, my heart racing. His eyes, those deep brown pools, were filled with so many things—love, hope, and something deeper. Maybe it was the promise of forever. Maybe it was a quiet reassurance, an unspoken vow that no matter what had happened, we were here. Together. "Do you, Janice Felicia O'Brian, take Layden Macarus James to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the officiant’s voice broke through the quiet, his words echoing in the church. I took a steadying breath, my heart pounding in my chest. This was the moment. The decision I had made. It was all leading to this. "I do," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but firm. The officiant nodded, then turned to Layden. "And do y
His hands were everywhere—rough, demanding, sliding over my skin as if they owned it. They gripped my breasts, fingers digging into the soft flesh, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. My nipples were already stiff, aching under his touch, and when he pinched them between his fingers, rolling and tugging, a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through me. Heat pooled low in my stomach, my body responding to him as if it were wired to his every move. I didn’t waste time. My hands fumbled with his suit, yanking at the jacket until it slid off his shoulders and hit the floor with a muffled thud. His tie came next, loosened and tossed aside, followed by his shirt, buttons popping open as I dragged it down his arms. His chest was bare now, muscles taut and inviting, and I couldn’t resist running my hands over him, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palms. I pushed him back onto the bed, and he went willingly, his eyes dark and hungry as they raked over me. The way he looked at me—like he
I woke to the cold, empty expanse of the bed beside me, the sheets tangled and lifeless. The space where Layden should have been was hollow, the pillow untouched. My heart sank, a familiar ache settling in my chest. For a fleeting, desperate moment, I let myself wonder if last night had been a nightmare—if Layden had simply fallen asleep beside me, exhausted from the whirlwind of our wedding. But the silence in the house was deafening, that told me otherwise.I sat up slowly, the weight of the morning pressing down on me. My temples throbbed, and I rubbed them with trembling fingers, trying to push away the dull ache that had taken root in my chest. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the walls of the room were closing in. I swallowed hard, the metallic taste of regret lingering on my tongue. I wasn’t going to let this ruin us. We just needed to talk. To understand each other. And if words weren’t enough, I’d show him.I climbed out of bed, my feet sinking into the plush carpet as
After breakfast, I hurried upstairs to shower quickly before rejoining Andra. I slipped into a yellow sundress that ended mid-thigh and grabbed a pair of sunglasses—hardly the attire of a married woman, but then again, I was still a virgin, so it didn’t count. When I came back downstairs, Andra and I stepped outside and into her car. The drive to Chelsea felt like a slow descent into memory. The streets, wide and alive, pulsed with the energy of a neighborhood caught between its artistic roots and creeping affluence. Rows of red-brick townhouses stood tall and proud, their facades softened by ivy crawling up the sides, whispering of a past that refused to be erased. Gallery windows shimmered with abstract paintings, and boutique cafés spilled warm laughter onto the sidewalks, their tiny round tables crowded with people who had nowhere to be but everywhere to talk. But for me, Chelsea wasn’t the art or the boutiques—it was home. Andra drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, steal
The door opened, and I heard the smooth lilt of a woman’s voice before I saw her."Layden," she purred, her tone carrying the easy confidence of someone who knew she was welcome.Layden chuckled, his voice lighter than it had been with me all day. "Cassidy, come in."Then she stepped inside and everything about her set me on edge.She was tall—statuesque, even—with cascading blonde waves that framed a face too perfect to be real. Her scarlet dress clung to her curves like it had been painted on, dipping scandalously low in the front and ending dangerously high on her toned thighs. She smelled of something expensive, a floral perfume that carried through the air, seeping into my space as she glided toward me.Her eyes—striking blue, like shards of ice—swept over me, assessing, measuring. Then, she smiled, slow and knowing and extended a perfectly manicured hand."You must be Janice."I wiped my palms against my dress before taking it. Her grip was firm, lingering a beat too long."And
The car coasted to a stop, and I blinked, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. We weren't in the heart of New York anymore. The city's chaos had been replaced with the scent of saltwater and the distant sound of crashing waves. I turned to Alessio, but he only nodded toward the door."We're here," he said quietly.I didn't question it. What was the point anymore? The world felt like it was spinning too fast for me to grasp onto anything. I just followed him, my feet dragging across the ground, my mind too clouded by everything to care.He led me up a stone pathway, the ocean breeze tugging at my hair. The path curved gently toward a secluded beach house, its whitewashed walls glowing in the late afternoon sun, shrouded by sea grass and weathered wood. When we stepped inside, my breath hitched.Warm light spilled through gauzy curtains, casting golden patterns on the honey-toned floorboards. The air smelled faintly of salt, like sandalwood and citrus. Worn linen couches framed a
“From both,” he said finally, the words gravel-rough, torn from somewhere deep. Like admitting it scraped bone.“I don’t care,” I snapped, my voice a lash in the air. “Andrés? Olthur? They weren’t in the family profile I was given. And yet—your uncle, your cousin? How does that even work?”His reaction was instant, visceral—a sharp inhale, a flicker of something almost primal in his gaze. For the briefest moment, I thought he might lash out. Instead, he steadied himself, like a storm barely chained."Some things," he said, voice cold as marble, "are better left unknown."He stepped back, adjusting the lapels of his suit like armor reforged. His gaze was an iron gate slamming shut.“And whatever you’re doing—stop.” His words were final, absolute. An executioner’s decree, not a suggestion. “Alessio will come for you in an hour. And don’t forget to dispose of your device.”He paused. Not out of hesitation, but detachment. His gaze slid right past me, like I was already out of the room, o
His hand closed around my wrist, warm and steady, and I froze."Jay-jay," he murmured, his voice low, like I was the last thing tethering him to this earth.But I was tired of this. Tired of the games, tired of my life crumbling over and over again because of the men in my life. I wasn't going to break again. No, not again."Don't," I whispered, my voice hoarse. I pulled away weakly, but his grasp wasn't rough - it was pleading, desperate. My chest tightened, a knot of fury and longing twisting deeper than I could bear.I forced myself to meet his eyes, and it nearly unraveled me. His grey orbs blazed, molten and wild, like he had been chasing me through storms and finally caught me."You think I haven't burned enough?" His voice splintered something fragile inside me. "You think I can survive the fire you leave behind?"What is he talking about?"Icarus-" I whimpered, his name cracking in my throat like a fracture that wouldn't heal.Then his mouth found mine.My breath seized, sharp
This was no longer about my reputation.This was about annihilation.Piece by piece, they were tearing my life apart-dissecting every decision, every moment, until there was nothing left but fragments of a person they thought they knew.I stared at the screen, my eyes burning. The headline cut deeper with every second.‘Corporate Climber or Common Slut?’The words pulsed like a wound.My temples throbbed. I forced my eyes shut, drew a breath that caught halfway down my throat, and held it there, like holding my own panic at bay. It didn't work.The bile still rose.I hadn't signed up for this.I never wanted this spotlight, this spectacle. I was supposed to build a career, not become tabloid fodder.And yet, there he was too-Icarus Adonis Sebastian-entangled in the scandal like a character in a story he himself had written. His name splashed across headlines, his face beside mine in every brutal frame.But he wasn't here.He wasn't here.Layla's voice broke through, measured but firm.
Andra slipped back into the room so silently I didn't hear her until she spoke."What are you doing?" she asked, her voice low, almost curious.I yelped, startled, slamming my laptop shut as if I'd been caught doing something far worse than research. My pulse thudded in my ears. "Nothing," I said quickly, too quickly. "You scared me.""Hmmm," she hummed, nonchalant, as she peeled off her dress in one effortless motion. The silk pooled around her ankles like liquid shadow. She reached for a robe, tying it loosely around her waist.I tried to sound casual, playful even, grinning like a child caught snooping through Christmas presents. "So... what have you and Alessio been up to? You've been gone for hours, and"—I tilted my head, teasing—"I heard you laugh."She chuckled, but the sound was thin, a little too nervous. "Oh, please," she waved her hand dismissively, though her cheeks were tinged pink. "Nothing scandalous. We just... had more wine. Talked. About family, mostly."Her eyes sof
I rolled my eyes so hard I saw my own brain. There I was, trapped in the damn car while Alessio and Andra had some kind of silent, sexually-charged staring contest that would put a telenovela to shame. The tension was so thick you could choke on it. Alessio's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his stupidly perfect jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. And the way his eyes kept darting to Andra in the rearview? Please. He might as well have had "I WANT TO KISS YOU STUPID" tattooed across his forehead. Andra wasn't any better. Miss Ice Queen herself was actually fidgeting. Fidgeting. Her fingers kept playing with the hem of her dress like she was contemplating hiking it up right there in the backseat. The silence was killing me. "Should I just jump out now," I said, "or are you two waiting for a more dramatic moment?" Alessio's grip tightened. "What?" Andra shot me a death glare, but her cheeks were pink. "Shut up, Jan." "Oh, so now you acknowledge I exist?" I
The ladies' room door slammed open before I could catch my breath.There you are!" Andra's voice cracked through the room like a champagne cork. She prowled toward me, her white dress liquid fire under the chandeliers. "I've been hunting you all night, and what do I find?" She braced one manicured hand against the marble counter beside me. "My best friend doing the devil's tango with Icarus Adonis Sebastian." Her smirk could have powered the city grid. "Do you need me to call a priest, or an exorcist?"I grabbed the chilled flute of champagne she was holding and pressed it hard against my burning cheeks. "I will murder you.""Oh no, darling." She plucked the glass from my grip and drained it in one swallow. "Let's review your crimes." She ticked them off on fingers adorned with razor-sharp gold nails. "One: You ghosted me the moment you arrived. Two: You're wearing that dress—which violates at least three international treaties. Three:" Her voice dropped to a purr as she leaned in, "Y
Icarus had been insufferable today—condescending, controlling, and, worst of all, completely unreadable. If he thought he could push me around without consequence, he had another thing coming. By the time we arrived, the high-end boutiques on Avenue Montaigne gleamed in the afternoon sun. I stepped out of the car with confidence, smoothing my dress and sliding on a pair of sunglasses I found in my purse. Alessio fell into step beside me, ever the gentleman. "Stay close," I told him lightly. "I might need an extra pair of hands.""Naturally, ma’am," he replied, amusement dancing in his voice. And so, the spree began. I moved through the stores with precision—silk dresses, designer heels, exquisite jewelry—each item swiped onto the black credit card with satisfaction. The attendants were eager to please, their tones hushed with reverence as they recognized the name on the payment method. Alesso trailed behind me, hands tucked casually in his pockets, his sharp eyes scanning th
I pushed into one of the stalls, closing the door behind me as I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps in the restroom. My breath hitched, my body stiffening instinctively.I couldn't let anyone see me like this.Not Layla. Not some stranger.Not even Icarus.Especially not Icarus.I pressed a hand over my mouth, swallowing down the emotions threatening to spill over. The tightness in my chest was unbearable, but I forced myself to stay silent, to breathe through it.Just a few minutes.Just long enough to pull myself together. Then I'd walk out of here like nothing had happened.The restroom door banged open, laughter spilling in like a cruel, creeping poison. I barely had time to stifle my breath before the voices followed."God, I still can't believe it," one of them sneered, her voice sharp, slicing through the quiet like a blade. "I mean, we knew she was shameless, but this? She's an actual slut."“Not even a high-class one,” another voice chimed in, dripping with mockery. “I mean,