8. Amara
AMARA
THE ONE-NIGHT CURSE
T he chemistry was instant, like a match struck in the dark, an undeniable spark flaring too hot and fast.
It was the best sex I’ve ever had—the kind that lingers in my body like an echo, a phantom touch that refuses to fade.
He made love to every inch of my body. His fingers worked magic as they traveled across my body until I was ready to explode.
He was meticulous and relentless as he kissed and stroked me half the night.
I should feel regret leaving without a note or a word.
I should shake off this unsettled feeling, but the truth is—I’m delighted with how last night unfolded. Pietro’s lovemaking left me completely sated, and somehow, I feel more alive… more electric than ever before.
It was too good to be true.
And that’s why I must leave before it gets weird.
Pietro is still sleeping, and his breathing is steady. His body is sprawled, making him look almost… peaceful—a contradiction to the man who devoured me last night.
I can’t linger. I can’t tempt myself. “This was one night,” I mutter quietly.
It’s better to be the one to leave than to wait around and watch him walk out on me. I slip out of bed and find my clothes scattered like a bag of M&Ms tossed over the plush carpet. I move silently, my feet relishing the softness under them as I gather my bra and my favorite shoes.
I pull my wrinkled dress over my head and flip my hair out. I run my hands over the fabric to look presentable. Who am I kidding? I’m about to take the walk of shame, relieved he won’t be watching me as I do it.
I push the tangled hair out of my face and steal one last glance at him. My pussy quivers just looking at him. I’m hungry for more, but I’m not of his world.
I’d love to run my fingers through his tousled hair again. I want to taste his delectable, firm lips again—but I’ve already overstepped. This isn’t my world anymore. The money, the luxury… maybe it never was.
I blink, forcing the image of him from my mind.
And as I slip into my shoes and step out the door, I will my desire to disappear with every step.
I wonder what the meaning of his tattoos is. His inked body screams a non-verbal threat to those with bad intentions. He’s different—unique even. I’ve never known passion like that before.
The door clicks softly behind me. I sigh. If I’m going down, I’d rather it be on my terms.
I can’t allow myself to think about him as I take the subway back to my apartment.
It was only one night, but it tugs at my heart with each step I take.
And no matter how fast I walk, I can’t deny that my body remembers last night and how his lips trailed fire over my skin. It wasn’t just sex. It was something else. Something dangerous. But it’s lost because I’ll never see him again.
Hours later, when Sarah asked me a million questions, I relived my night in a stranger’s bed—the exhilaration and freedom of just being in the moment. I got to be me. It was thrilling to do what I wanted without thinking about my baggage.
“You should have seen the room, Sarah. OMG. The plush carpet, the fully stocked bar, the living room, and the huge TV. I didn’t see much as the lighting was terrible, but it was the penthouse!” I squeal .
But even as I relieve the night, I know I can’t afford to relax my guard. And daydreaming over Pietro is a luxury I can’t afford. I have to stay on my toes because not thinking will get me killed.
“He has a fuckton of money,” Sarah elaborates. “Who can afford that swanky room anyway? Do you know who he is?”
“I have no clue. His name is Pietro. I mean, it’s so unusual. Who do you think he is?” I have the excitement of a child who’s making up a character to marry when I grow up.
“A hitman?” she jokes.
“Naw, he’d be lying low somewhere. I seriously doubt he’d be at the club last night if that were the case.”
“Unless he was hiding in plain sight, like you,” she adds.
Which makes me pause. “You’re right. I guess anything is possible. By the way, thank you for last night. It was fun.”
“You’re only saying that because you got laid. I saw you as you left, and he was smoking hot.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what he saw in me, but the sex was so incredible!” I moan as I take a hop-jump so that I land on the sofa, where I immediately tuck my legs under me.
“So, he must be like a…billionaire?” Her eyebrows furrow as she glances at me over her laundry basket.
I shrug. “Who knows? It’s New York. He can be anyone. He’s probably visiting from a foreign country, and I’ll never see him again. He has a bit of an accent, and that’s sexy as fuck.” I’ve always loved foreign accents, especially when a God-like man like Pietro speaks them.
“That sucks. Did you have a good time?”
“Yes, but I could get addicted to him. He was so smooth and confident, y’know?”
“No. But I’ll take your word for it. I fly out later tonight. I’ll be gone for two days, so don’t do any more risky one-nighters, okay?”
“Trust me, it was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. I don’t know what possessed me to do that.
It’s like I came to life when I saw him.
He’s dangerous, but getting involved with him will only lead to a broken heart.
Besides, I don’t know his last name. It was so refreshing, though—I mean, most good-looking men are assholes. ”
“With that kind of money, he must be very, very wealth and prone to be an asshole, yes,” she concurs.
I ponder this for a moment. I’m still curious about what Pietro does for a living. I want to know more about him, but that won’t happen. We’ll never see each other again. It’s a huge city, so aside from stalking him at the hotel, I cannot find him.
“Lightning doesn’t strike twice. Does it?” I ask, hoping she’ll disagree with me.
“Doubtful.”
My heart sinks, knowing that the dangerous night of living on the edge is over. This Cinderella has returned from the ball, and I’ll never get another night like that again.
What makes matters worse is that I was on top of the world when I got home this morning, and it’s over. I remembered him grabbing me and biting my nipples, and it just did something to me that I can’t explain. It was a bit rough, and I loved it.
“By the time your shift is over, I’ll be in the air, but I want to hear about your new job when I land,” she says as she stacks her folded jeans into the laundry basket.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. You know how it goes—the first few days feel great, then the job becomes a chore. Just a means to an end.”
And there isn’t. As long as I’m in the wind, I don’t have my generous allowance or trust fund, and I can’t use the family name to advance myself. I never realized how tough it was to get a job until I was forced to abandon my name. As a single woman, it isn’t easy to make it in the real world.
“It’s going to be a long night,” I say, following Sarah to her room as she prepares for her trip. Even though I didn’t sleep much last night, I’m too wired to rest.
Sarah and I hang out like we do, making tossed salads with canned tuna for dinner before she leaves.
The apartment is chilly because we can’t afford to run the heat to keep it comfortable.
I didn’t shower all day so that I could smell him .
But it’s getting late, so I shower and tug on an old sweatsuit and wool socks to keep my feet warm.
I miss the warmth of the floors in my parents’ house—the way they creaked beneath bare feet and morning light made the wood glow golden. But I don’t miss my parents.
I clear the clutter from the small kitchen table that seats four, my fingers lingering on a coffee ring like it’s a relic. A faint scent of cinnamon clings to the air, and for a second, I’m back in that old kitchen, listening to the hiss of the kettle and my mother humming under her breath.
Then the moment’s gone. I turn to the sink and begin washing dishes, chasing the past down the drain with the soap suds.
The day moves at a glacial pace. I binge-watch movies to keep my mind off him . But as night falls, I’m still thinking about last night and watching the clock tick until I go to work.
I need to focus on my new job—it’s the first real break I’ve had in a long time. I slip into the navy pantsuit I found on clearance and straighten the blazer in front of the mirror. It doesn’t scream confidence, but it’s mine. And for the first time in a while, I let myself believe… maybe I belong.
Siobhan, the woman who hired me, was kind to me and said she liked my energy. She mentioned owning a restaurant on the Island and told me she wanted to give me a chance because someone had once taken a risk on her. Now, she was paying it forward.
I shared the entire conversation with Sarah. However, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I finally have a job that will pay my bills, and I’ll have some money left over.
I should be celebrating.
Instead, my mind keeps reverting to the stranger I should have forgotten.
The chemistry was instant—an undeniable spark that flared too hot, too fast, and too short. Way too short. I’m screwed. I’ll never find a man like that again.
I wonder where he is .
I have a million questions, but none will change the fact that I’ll never see him again.
I head to the subway for my first night at the new job, telling myself I need to get over the one-night stand.
It was one incredible, impulsive, toe-curling night.
It was just one night.
I repeat the five words like a mantra, but they ring hollow.
He was intoxicating—his hands, his mouth, his body. He was a storm I willingly walked into, knowing I wouldn’t come out unscathed.
But try as I might, I can’t forget him.