WARNING : EXPLICIT CONTENT
"One night. No strings."
Ares's words still echoed in her ears. Naomi didn't move. She just sat there in the velvet booth of the club, swirling the wine in her glass, pretending she wasn't fazed.
He leaned closer, voice low, serious. "You satisfy him, I reward you handsomely."
Naomi looked up, her eyes flat. "And if I don't?"
He smirked. "You will."
She held his gaze. He didn't blink. The weight of his offer hung in the air like smoke. Her silence made him shift, almost uncomfortably.
"Whatever you decide," he muttered, tapping his knuckles on the table before standing and disappearing into the sea of shadows and music.
Naomi stayed. Her fingers gripped the wine glass too tightly. Her chest felt too tight. Her breath, too shallow.
Then the message came.
"Your father was stabbed in prison. He's being rushed to the hospital."
Of course. Of course it had to be now.
Her hand trembled as she set the phone down. It clinked loudly against the glass. A few heads turned. She didn't care. The buzzing in her head got louder, heavier.
As long as he's alive, I can never just be.
She blinked slowly. Rage building, crawling through her blood like fire.
She downed her glass. Then another. And another. Her chest burned, but she welcomed it. If it numbed her heart, if it silenced the scream inside her for just one night, then so be it.
She stood. Her legs were a little unsteady, but her eyes locked on him across the room. Killian. Sitting like a god of sin, elbows on his thighs, head slightly down as he spoke to someone. But even in the crowd, he felt distant, unreachable.
She walked up to him, heart pounding.
He looked up as she approached.
"I got your message," she said, her voice calm, unreadable. "So are we doing this or not?"
He didn't speak. He just stood, towering, silent, predatory. His hand brushed hers lightly, possessively. Then he turned and walked.
She followed
***
Outside the club,
The engine roared to life.
She leaned her head against the cool glass of the car window, the city lights a blur of gold and blue. Her heart thudded, but she wouldn't let herself feel it. Not now.
Killian didn't speak. His eyes were on the road, but his hand rested on her bare thigh. His touch was firm, grounding, electric.
Minutes later, the elevator doors opened to reveal his penthouse.
She stepped in. He shut the door.
The air was thick.
He locked the door behind them and walked to his room. The silence was deafening.
He lay on the bed, legs crossed, one arm behind his head.
Then his voice sliced through the stillness. "Strip."
Naomi blinked. A bit confused.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes darkening. "Don't make me repeat myself."
She stared for a second longer, then obeyed, sliding each piece off without flinching. She didn't let him see the nerves in her chest.
Killian smirked faintly and got off the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly as he walked toward her. Her posture stayed firm. Confident. Most girls cowered when he approached like that—but not her.
He reached out and tilted her chin up, his fingers warm on her skin.
"You're a feisty little girl, aren't you?" he said, voice low and amused.
Then he leaned closer. "Take off my clothes. And pleasure me."
Her eyes widened a bit after hearing him speak, but she obeyed...slowly she reached for his pants and took them off. Before she could even stand straighte he lifted her with one arm and carried her down the dark hallway, their mouths never parting.
Her back hit the mattress, soft and cold. He hovered over her, eyes wild.
And then he rammed into her.
Naomi cried out.
Not in pain.
In release. In fury. In everything she'd been holding in for years.
He moved like a storm, rough, unrelenting. She matched him thrust for thrust, her nails carving his back, her teeth marking his neck.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
It was a battle.
Her tears mixed with sweat as he plunged into her.
She didn't even notice when they stopped breathing like humans.
***
3:12AM
Naomi stirred.
The sheets were tangled between her thighs. Her body ached, her lips swollen. She turned and looked at him. His chest was heaving up and down.
She scanned the room for her dress but she couldn't find it
She stood, walked toward the closet, and picked the first thing she saw—a long white shirt. She slipped into it.
Then his coat.
She saw the silver watch on the table. Smirked.
He wouldn't miss it. He's rich anyway.
Then she saw it. A white envelope.
She opened it.
A cheque.
$100,000.
Already signed.
A sticky note attached: "Your reward."
Naomi let out a dry, bitter laugh.
She couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe what she had just done.
She gave herself to a complete stranger
And for what?
A damn cheque.
Her chest tightened.
But still... I need this money.
She slipped the cheque into her coat pocket and walked out of the penthouse, not sparing a single glance behind.
That was the mistake she made that night.
Walking away like it meant nothing.
Like he would let her go that easily
***
Killian jolted upright.
The scent of her still lingered on his skin. Her nails. Her moans. Her tears. All of it.
His hand reached to her side of the bed.
Cold.
His eyes flicked to the open closet.
His coat was missing.
So was the envelope.
"David!" he roared, storming out of the room. His voice echoed through the penthouse.
The butler flinched. "S-sir?"
"Naomi. Where is she?!"
But the apartment was empty.
He clenched his jaw, fingers twitching at his sides.
She walked out on him.
Took his money and left.
And for some reason…
That fucking stung.