Spencer broke off the kiss, his breath ragged. His eyes lingered on her lips—still glistening, coated in the heat they’d just shared.Monica clung to his arms, breathless, needing him to steady her. He gently cupped her chin and leaned in to place a soft kiss on her bottom lip—just a peck, but it sent a fresh wave of warmth flooding her cheeks.“Spencer…” she whispered, blushing furiously as her eyes met his. She buried her face in his chest to hide it.“You’re embarrassed?” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His fingers threaded gently through her hair, lingering as if he never wanted to let go.Monica groaned softly, eyes fluttering closed. “Gosh…” she muttered, melting into his warmth, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne. For a second, she forgot the world outside even existed.But then he shifted.“Hey…” His voice dropped an octave, serious now. “I need to show you something.” He helped her sit up before rising from the couch, his brows drawn tight. “
Monica hurried into the fitting room, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The board had decided she would open the show alongside Angel, and now, with her fitting scheduled, she had one more thing to conquer—her walk.A makeup artist helped her slip out of her clothes, ushering in a mannequin draped in the dress Spencer had designed for her. Monica's breath caught in her throat. She had been waiting for this moment, but seeing it in person—finally—it almost knocked the air out of her.The dress was breathtaking. Light, delicate, with butterflies fluttering like whispers along the edges, their wings brushing against the fabric. Gold silk lined every curve, catching the light and glowing like something ethereal. It was more than she had imagined. This... this is perfect.Her lips curled into a slight smile, a mix of wonder and something more—maybe disbelief. She reached out tentatively, her fingers grazing the silk. It felt impossibly soft, like butter, sliding under
Monica stepped out of the locker room, still sore from rehearsal, her bag slung over one shoulder. The elevator doors had just opened when she saw him.Spencer.“Hey,” she said softly, eyes darting away. She’d managed to sneak out of his apartment before dawn, before he woke up—before she could regret what almost happened. Thankfully apart from making out, Spencer didn't go further which was quite impressive judging from the heat between them.He wasn’t wearing the usual mask today. Just a plain black hoodie and dark jeans. The kind of look that made him blend in, yet somehow stand out more. He was acting like a worker instead of a boss.He tilted his head, lips curling. “Just hey, huh?”Before she could move, he stepped forward and brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. Her breath caught.His nearness made the air tighten. Monica tried to step back, but her spine met the cold steel of the elevator wall.He didn’t touch her right away. His eyes dropped to her leg.“You’re limp
Monica trailed behind Spencer into the house, her steps hesitant."Where's Aunt Suzy?" she asked the moment he swung the door open."She went to pick up her daughter from the airport," Spencer said, tossing his keys onto a side table without looking back.Monica blinked. "She has a daughter?"There was a flicker of surprise in her voice, like she couldn't imagine Aunt Suzy having a whole other life she didn’t know about.Spencer just nodded, already heading for the stairs. "Come on. Let’s go to my studio."She followed him up, the wooden steps creaking lightly under their weight. At the top, he veered off into what looked like his room. Monica hovered in the hallway, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited.Through the half-open door, she caught a glimpse of him pulling a loose T-shirt over his head and swapping his jeans for sweatpants with an easy, careless grace. Moments later, he stepped out, holding a folded sweatshirt and a pair of shorts."Are you
Monica walked into the house, humming a light tune, her face alight with a carefree smile. A blush crept onto her cheeks as her thoughts wandered to the night before. Liam had finally made love to her. Three years of marriage, three years of silence in their bed. Sure, they had a "normal" relationship—functional, predictable. But last night was different. It was wild. It felt real. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment when he’d used protection. But even that couldn’t erase the warmth she felt. They were getting closer, she told herself. This was progress. She had known, deep down, that Liam hadn’t been in love with her when they married. But he’d never had a girlfriend. So she had clung to the hope that, one day, he’d fall for her. It seemed like her prayers were closed to being answered. Liam had been her magazine crush before he ever became her husband. As a model, she knew what beauty meant, and Liam? He embodied it. Ocean-blue eyes. A sharp jawline. Gleaming whi
Monica didn’t know how long she had been sitting in the bar. The music thumped in the background, but it didn’t reach her. She hadn’t bothered to wipe the tears streaming down her face. Her husband and sister were still at the house when she left. She downed another glass of alcohol. The hot liquid burned her throat, and her face twisted in a grimace. She smiled blankly. Once, she had thought Liam would be the father of her children. Now, he was the man who cheated on her—with Brie, her baby sister. She noticed her glass was empty again and frowned. With a slurred shout, she waved at the bartender, who quickly refilled it. The alcohol was starting to mess with her head. Everything felt foggy. Distant. “Are you alright?” The voice was warm. Husky. It slid into her ears and made her shiver. Monica groaned, a splitting headache tearing through her skull. She turned and blinked up at the man behind her. Her breath caught. He was gorgeous. Blonde hair slicked back with effortless pre
Monica slowly opened her eyes and stared at the bright room. Her head throbbed. She sat up quickly and flung the sheets off her—then let out a sigh when she saw her clothes were still on. She looked around, confused. This wasn’t her room. Her heart started to pound. Where the hell am I? She stood, blinking rapidly. The last thing she remembered was drowning in shots after finding out the love of her life had cheated on her. Did I go home with someone? Grabbing her heels from the floor, she tiptoed to the door and peeked out. The apartment was sleek. Expensive. Someone had good taste and a whole lot of money to spend. She crept back into the bedroom, looking for her phone. Nothing. Panic tightened in her chest. She didn’t want to run into whoever brought her here—but she needed that phone. Monica crept down the stairs. Then stopped. A voice. Humming. A man. She followed the sound and froze in the hallway, peeking into the kitchen. A shirtless man stood at the stove flipping p
Spencer stood and gave her a devilish smile. “We sinned,” he said, his voice smooth and low. “I came to ask for mercy.” Monica’s breath caught in her throat. A cold sweat prickled at her forehead. His eyes locked with hers, intense and unreadable—he wasn’t bluffing. “Spencer, you need to leave. Now.” Her voice cracked with panic. He tilted his head, eyes glinting. “Are you disgusted that we spent the night together, Monica?” he drawled. That teasing tone, paired with his frustratingly handsome face—he looked so carefree unlike Liam. Liam was always stern and professional. Spencer, on the other hand, looking like a playboy. “What the hell, Spencer!” she snapped. “I was drunk. I barely remember anything. So no—we didn’t spend the night together.” Spencer chuckled darkly. “Or do you just hate how much I turn you on?” “Turn me on?” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “In your dreams, Spencer.” He started moving toward her. She instinctively stepped back. “We could test it,” he said,
Monica trailed behind Spencer into the house, her steps hesitant."Where's Aunt Suzy?" she asked the moment he swung the door open."She went to pick up her daughter from the airport," Spencer said, tossing his keys onto a side table without looking back.Monica blinked. "She has a daughter?"There was a flicker of surprise in her voice, like she couldn't imagine Aunt Suzy having a whole other life she didn’t know about.Spencer just nodded, already heading for the stairs. "Come on. Let’s go to my studio."She followed him up, the wooden steps creaking lightly under their weight. At the top, he veered off into what looked like his room. Monica hovered in the hallway, awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she waited.Through the half-open door, she caught a glimpse of him pulling a loose T-shirt over his head and swapping his jeans for sweatpants with an easy, careless grace. Moments later, he stepped out, holding a folded sweatshirt and a pair of shorts."Are you
Monica stepped out of the locker room, still sore from rehearsal, her bag slung over one shoulder. The elevator doors had just opened when she saw him.Spencer.“Hey,” she said softly, eyes darting away. She’d managed to sneak out of his apartment before dawn, before he woke up—before she could regret what almost happened. Thankfully apart from making out, Spencer didn't go further which was quite impressive judging from the heat between them.He wasn’t wearing the usual mask today. Just a plain black hoodie and dark jeans. The kind of look that made him blend in, yet somehow stand out more. He was acting like a worker instead of a boss.He tilted his head, lips curling. “Just hey, huh?”Before she could move, he stepped forward and brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. Her breath caught.His nearness made the air tighten. Monica tried to step back, but her spine met the cold steel of the elevator wall.He didn’t touch her right away. His eyes dropped to her leg.“You’re limp
Monica hurried into the fitting room, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The board had decided she would open the show alongside Angel, and now, with her fitting scheduled, she had one more thing to conquer—her walk.A makeup artist helped her slip out of her clothes, ushering in a mannequin draped in the dress Spencer had designed for her. Monica's breath caught in her throat. She had been waiting for this moment, but seeing it in person—finally—it almost knocked the air out of her.The dress was breathtaking. Light, delicate, with butterflies fluttering like whispers along the edges, their wings brushing against the fabric. Gold silk lined every curve, catching the light and glowing like something ethereal. It was more than she had imagined. This... this is perfect.Her lips curled into a slight smile, a mix of wonder and something more—maybe disbelief. She reached out tentatively, her fingers grazing the silk. It felt impossibly soft, like butter, sliding under
Spencer broke off the kiss, his breath ragged. His eyes lingered on her lips—still glistening, coated in the heat they’d just shared.Monica clung to his arms, breathless, needing him to steady her. He gently cupped her chin and leaned in to place a soft kiss on her bottom lip—just a peck, but it sent a fresh wave of warmth flooding her cheeks.“Spencer…” she whispered, blushing furiously as her eyes met his. She buried her face in his chest to hide it.“You’re embarrassed?” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His fingers threaded gently through her hair, lingering as if he never wanted to let go.Monica groaned softly, eyes fluttering closed. “Gosh…” she muttered, melting into his warmth, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne. For a second, she forgot the world outside even existed.But then he shifted.“Hey…” His voice dropped an octave, serious now. “I need to show you something.” He helped her sit up before rising from the couch, his brows drawn tight. “
Monica was still shaken even after she entered the taxi. Her body felt hollow, like her soul had been scooped out and discarded somewhere between the agency hallway and Angel’s betrayal. The revelation was mind-blowing. Everything—from the very beginning—had been a calculated lie. A manipulation. All of it, just to kick her out of the agency. Her dreams, her hard work, the years she sacrificed… tossed aside like trash.How could Angel be so cruel? All because she’d topped the agency? That was her sin? Her punishment for daring to shine?Her fingers trembled in her lap. She wanted to cry—desperately. But the tears refused to come, locked behind some invisible dam as if her body no longer had the strength to weep."Ma, we are here," the driver announced, his voice cutting through the fog in her head as the taxi slowed in front of the McKenzie family estate.“Okay,” she whispered, barely audible. She climbed out of the taxi, her steps unsteady, her breath shallow. Her mind replayed Angel
Monica’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open in disbelief at Lana’s words. "You don’t know what you're talking about, Lana," she said, her voice trembling despite the forced chuckle that escaped her lips. "How would she even do that? Angel’s manipulative, yes—but that? That’s way out of line." She took a shaky step back, like the floor beneath her had just shifted. Her thoughts scrambled. Why would she even consider that? That her entire marriage to Liam—every memory, every decision—had been crafted by someone else? It was absurd. It had to be. "It doesn’t make any sense," she whispered more to herself than to Lana, clinging to whatever logic she could find. Lana didn’t flinch. Her gaze was steady. "Beatrice McKenzie and Angel’s mother are besties. Do you know that?" Monica blinked. She shook her head slowly, confusion tightening in her chest like a vise. She hadn’t been close to Liam’s family—barely knew them, if she was honest. Except for Liam’s grandmother, who visited occasi
It wasn’t long before the girls grew drowsy, tangled up together, and drifted off to sleep. Some were sprawled across each other’s laps, while others lay scattered on the mini beds, empty glasses left behind like confetti from a party. Monica stayed quiet for a while, then quietly slipped out of the room and onto the balcony. She let the cool air brush her skin, her thoughts circling back to the text message. How was Spencer going to react after seeing it? Would he think she was being too clingy? It was simply a dare—she could just say that. But deep down, some part of her wanted more from him. Something she couldn’t even bring herself to admit. “Are you okay?” A voice cut through the silence. Monica turned to find Lana stepping onto the balcony, tying the robe of her nightgown as she walked out. Monica stiffened slightly. Lana. Candy’s sister—and if the rumors were true, Angel’s best friend. Her own image of Lana wasn’t exactly favorable. “Yeah, I’m fine,” Monica replied, fo
Inside the car, the guy kept clinging onto Max. He had taken one of those host boys with him to take his mind off Lake. His grip tightened around the wheel as he recalled the look on Lake's face while demanding a kiss.A gentle squeeze on his thigh snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the guy—he wasn’t bad looking, but suddenly, Max wasn’t in the mood to entertain anyone. Still, he gave the guy a gentle smile."I'm going to make you feel so good," the guy purred, letting his hand wander dangerously upward.Max gave a tight smile and pulled into his condo. As soon as he turned off the engine, the guy leaned in and pressed their bodies together.Max didn’t push him away. "What's your name again?"The guy’s head dipped into Max’s neck. "Jude," he groaned, inhaling Max’s scent.Max felt off. He cringed inwardly but leaned back, letting Jude drink him in, sucking and almost biting his neck."Don't leave hickeys on my neck," Max groaned."It's always hot," Jude replied."Let's go
Max blinked twice, stunned by Lake's words. Kiss Lake. When he teased Lake about the kiss, he was hoping for a witty comeback or an annoyed insult—not this response. Kiss me. His eyes wandered to Lake's face, then down to his slightly parted lips. Lake had said those words—breathy and unsure. Being a playboy, and staring at those perfectly sculpted lips, he was already seduced. Nothing could please him more than leaning in and smashing their lips together. But it wasn't right. He knew Lake. Seeing him cry, just being close to him—and demanding a kiss now—wasn't right. His fingers still hovered over Lake's face, daring him to touch those lips, but he resisted. Instead, he leaned in with a cocky look, his lips close to Lake's earlobe. He felt Lake tense. "For a moment, I thought you meant it." With a swift movement, he licked Lake's earlobe. Lake shuddered but didn't step away like Max expected him to. For a moment, Max forgot how to breathe as the light highlighted Lake's