Azalea~
I woke up with my cheek stuck to the cold leather of the small couch in the secretary's antechamber, the torn dress from last night still damp and clinging to my skin like a punishment I couldn't escape.
My body hurt in ways I didn't want to name.
A deep, throbbing ache pulsed between my legs with every small movement, a filthy reminder of how Roman had stretched me open, how my pussy had clenched and gushed around his knot while I thought it was Timothy.
Shame burned hot in my stomach. I pressed my thighs together, hating the fresh slickness that answered the memory.
The penthouse floor of Thorin Tower was still quiet, wrapped in that heavy pre-dawn silence. I had slipped past security last night because I had nowhere else to go. My parents had thrown me away. Timothy had rejected me and walked off with my best friend. The home we shared was no longer mine. So I had hidden here like a broken animal, curled up in the one place no one would dare enter without the Alpha's permission.
I stayed hidden until I heard the first murmurs of staff arriving on the lower levels. Only when the floor grew quiet again did I creep out to my desk outside his office. My hair was a tangled disaster. The dress was wrinkled, torn at the shoulder, and still carried the unmistakable scent of sex and him.
I looked exactly like what everyone was calling me now - a cheap, ruined whore who had thrown herself at the Alpha.
The elevator pinged.
My heart hammered in my chest.
Roman stepped out, looking every inch the untouchable billionaire Alpha. Crisp black suit. Sharp jaw. Cold, commanding presence that made the air feel heavier. His eyes landed on me and dragged slowly down my body, over my messy hair, the torn fabric barely covering me, the visible bite marks on my neck, the way I was still trembling from the cold and everything else.
I swallowed hard, shifting on one foot as heat flooded my core. My pussy throbbed traitorously, a rush of wetness slicking my thighs. I hated my body for reacting to him like this. Hated him more for making it happen.
He said nothing at first.
Just reached into his wallet, pulled out a golden credit card, and flicked it onto the floor right at my feet.
"Get yourself some decent clothes," he said, voice icy and laced with disgust. The annoying, rude Roman. A fucking bastard.
"You look like a cheap whore who spent the night getting fucked and thrown away," he added. "Fix it before you embarrass me and this company any further."
The words landed like punches to the gut. Humiliation burned through my chest, hot and vicious. My hands shook as I bent down and picked up the card from the floor. I wanted to throw it back in his face. I wanted to scream at him. But I had nothing. No money. No clothes. No home. No pride left to protect.
I hated myself for bending.
I hated him even more.
Roman walked past me without another word and disappeared into his office, shutting the door with a click.
I sat there for as long as I could remember, breathing through the rage and shame twisting inside me. Then I grabbed my phone and left, keeping my head high as I walked through the main office area.
Every eye turned to me. Whispers and laughter followed like a toxin in the air.
"That's her... the one who got caught naked with the Alpha..."
"Timothy rejected her so fast, poor thing."
"Look at her. Still smells like him."
A group of women giggled behind their hands. One of them didn't even bother hiding it. My face burned, but I didn't flinch. Didn't slow down. They were not worth it.
I kept walking until I reached the elevator, then stepped out into the cold mountain air and caught a cab to the nearest luxury store in Shadowveil.
I bought clothes that would be weapons.
Tight black blouses that clung to my breasts and showed just enough cleavage to torment. Pencil skirts that hugged my ass and thighs like a second skin. Heels high enough to make my legs look endless and dangerous.
I changed in the fitting room, then forced myself to eat a proper meal; eggs, toast, coffee, because my stomach had been empty since the nightmare began. I needed strength. I needed fuel if I was going to survive this war I was starting.
By the time I returned to Thorin Tower, I looked like a different woman. Professional on the surface. Dangerous underneath.
I didn't knock on his office door.
I pushed it open, ready to start my game, ready to see if I could crack that ice.
And froze in the doorway.
Roman had a woman bent over his massive black desk. Her skirt was shoved up around her waist, panties dangling from one ankle. He was fucking her hard from behind, deep, punishing thrusts that made her moan and grip the edge of the desk desperately.
His powerful hips slammed against her ass again and again, the wet, filthy sound of skin slapping skin filling the quiet office. One of his hands fisted her hair, yanking her head back. The other gripped her hip so tightly his fingers dug into her flesh.
His head lifted. His dark eyes met mine.
He didn't stop.
He kept fucking her, harder now, his gaze burning into me the entire time. Like he wanted me to watch every brutal inch. Like he wanted me to feel it. His jaw was tight, muscles flexing with every thrust, but his eyes never left mine.
My pussy clenched without warning. A rush of heat and jealousy crashed through me so strong my knees almost gave out. My nipples tightened painfully against the new blouse. Fresh wetness soaked my thighs.
I remembered exactly how Roman felt on that bed. How his long, massive cock stretched me. That brutal rhythm, the way his knot had swelled and locked us together until I broke.
I stood there trembling, chest tight, unable to look away.
He was doing this on purpose.
And the worst part was how badly my body wanted to be the one bent over that desk instead.
