Chapter 1
Elara
“That fucking bastard.”
The words burned through me as I shoved through the building’s front doors, the cold night air slapping my face like it was trying to wake me up.
My hands were shaking. My chest hurt in that deep, humiliating way that told me something had broken and wasn’t going to knit back together no matter how much I wished it would.
“Elara…Elara, wait.”
I didn’t stop.
“Elara, please.”
I made it down the steps before I finally turned around. “What do you want, Ken?”
He stood there in the doorway like he hadn’t just detonated my life. Hair messy. Shirt crooked. Panic written all over his stupid face.
“Baby, please,” he said, already reaching for me. “It’s not what you think.”
I laughed. It came out sharp and ugly. “Not what I think? I just walked in on you having sex with your coworker. Don’t insult me by pretending my eyes don’t work.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know what was happening. I’ve just, there’s been a lot going on, okay? I needed some kind of escape.”
My chest tightened. “Ken, I’m your girlfriend. If you were struggling, you could’ve talked to me. You could’ve said something. Instead, you chose to put your dick in that woman. Not me.”
“It didn’t mean anything,” he said quickly. “Please, let’s just move past this. I swear it won’t happen again.”
I nodded once. Calm. Cold. “You’re right. It won’t happen again.”
Hope flickered in his eyes.
“Because we’re done,” I said. “Completely. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Don’t show up at my shop. Just….get lost.”
“Elara, please…”
“Don’t,” I said, already stepping away. “You lost the right to say my name.”
I turned before he could say anything else. I didn’t trust myself not to scream if I stayed.
Outside, the city kept moving as if nothing had happened. I raised my hand and flagged down a cab, sliding into the back seat with my heart in pieces and my dignity barely intact.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
I gave him my address and stared out the window as the car pulled away, swallowing the night, telling myself one thing over and over:
I would never let anyone do this to me again.
I arrived at my apartment, and the second the door shut behind me, I broke.
I slid down against it, my back hitting the wood as if my legs had finally remembered they were allowed to give out.
The sob that ripped out of me didn’t ask for permission.
It just came, loud, ugly, and desperate.
The kind of crying you do when you’ve been holding yourself together with sheer spite and adrenaline, and both finally tap out.
I pressed my palm over my mouth, like that might stop the sound. It didn’t.
Two years.
Two fucking years, and he chose to blow it all for her.
I hadn’t cried a single tear outside. Not on the stairs. Not in the cab. Not when I told him it was over. I’d held my head high like I wasn’t bleeding out internally.
But here? Alone? Safe?
Everything spilled.
I pushed myself up and stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the sink as I stared at my reflection. Mascara smudged. Eyes red. Face tight with grief and humiliation.
“Don’t,” I whispered to myself, furiously wiping my cheeks. “Don’t cry over him. He’s not worth it.”
But it hurt too much.
Ken had been…God…perfect. Or at least he’d sold the role well. Attentive. Consistent. The kind of boyfriend people nodded approvingly about. Sure, we’d fought. Every couple did. But we always talked it through. We always chose each other.
Until today.
Until I walked in on him with the very coworker he’d laughed off. The one he’d sworn was “just a friend.” The one he’d told me not to worry about.
Maybe I had seen it coming. Maybe there had been signs. Late nights. Half-hearted apologies. Distraction masquerading as stress.
Maybe I’d just been too in love to want to see it.
I splashed cold water on my face, breathing hard. “Fuck this,” I muttered. “I’m not doing this.”
My best friend wasn’t in the country; she had been appointed by her workplace to represent them at an international conference. She was definitely living her life like a functional adult, and I didn’t want to interrupt her trip with this.
If I stayed here, I’d spiral. I’d curl up. I’d reread old texts and torture myself with what-ifs.
I straightened slowly, a dangerous thought forming.
I walked into my room and yanked open my wardrobe, fingers brushing past safe dresses, sensible choices, the versions of me that played nice. Then I found it, the dress my best friend had forced me to get.
A short black mesh dress. Fitted. And completely reckless.
It was perfect.
The shower was hot enough to sting. I let the water pound over me, washing away the tears, the betrayal, the girl who’d believed too easily. When I stepped out, steam clung to my skin like a second layer.
I went heavy with my makeup. Smoky. Dark. Almost theatrical. I barely recognized myself when I was done, and I liked that.
Tonight, I wasn’t careful Elara. Or loyal Elara. Or the girl who got cheated on.
Tonight, I was free.
I slipped into the dress, grabbed my bag, and didn’t give myself time to think. Thinking would ruin this. Thinking would make me stay.
I locked the door behind me and hailed a cab, sliding into the back seat with a pulse that felt reckless and alive.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
I named the club without hesitation.
As the city lights blurred past the window, one thought burned clear and sharp in my mind:
Tonight, I was letting go.
The bar hit me like a wall of heat and sound.
Music thumped through my chest, bodies pressed together, laughter spilling, mouths colliding, and hands everywhere. It was loud, crowded, and alive, and for half a second, panic flickered.
Oh my God. This place is packed.
A tiny, traitorous part of me wanted to turn around. Go home. Crawl into my reading nook, order greasy pizza, put on a comfort show, and let exhaustion swallow me whole.
But I squared my shoulders.
No. Not tonight.
I wasn’t going to sit around crying over a man who couldn’t keep it in his pants.
I made my way to the bar and lifted a finger. The bartender noticed immediately, young, charming, already smiling.
“What can I get you, beautiful?”
I leaned in, dropping my voice just enough. “What do you recommend, handsome?”
He grinned. “For you? I’d say a Black Rose. Strong. Dangerous.”
“Make it two shots,” I said smoothly. “Extra strong. Just like you.”
He laughed. “Coming right up.”
While he worked, I scanned the room, suddenly unsure what came next. Jen wasn’t here. I didn’t know who I was supposed to talk to. Did I just… drink until I forgot why I came?
No, I told myself. You came to live.
The drinks landed in front of me. “Here you go, for the beautiful lady.”
I didn’t hesitate. Took both shots back-to-back.
“Oof,” he said. “You’re a strong one.”
“I’ll have more,” I said. “Please.”
He shook his head, amused, and turned away.
That’s when I felt it.
That unmistakable pull.
I turned, and saw him.
He sat at a table with a group of men, dressed like he’d come straight from work. Dark hair, perfectly styled. Dress shirt. Slacks. Broad shoulders relaxed like he owned the space without trying. And his eyes…
Green.
Sharp. Focused.
Locked on me.
Heat crept up my neck as our gazes held. He didn’t look away. Didn’t smile. Just watched me like he’d already decided something.
The bartender returned with more drinks, breaking the moment. I took them, barely tasting anything now, liquid courage blazing through my veins.
When I looked back, he was still watching.
So I walked to him.
The conversation at his table quieted as I stopped in front of him. He didn’t look away once.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he replied, voice low.
“Can I sit?”
“Sure.”
I sat close. Too close. I could smell him, clean, expensive, dangerous.
“You’ve been staring at me,” I said.
“Indeed, I have,” he replied. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
I looked him over slowly. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He smirked. “I’m…”
I lifted a finger. “Shh. No names.”
His brow furrowed. “You don’t want to know my name?”
“Nope.”
“Do you want to tell me yours?”
“No names,” I repeated.
He leaned back, studying me like a puzzle he liked. “I like where this is going.”
“So what should I call you?” he asked.
“Call me El.”
“Like the letter, ‘L’”
“No, silly,” I giggled. “It’s E-L”
“Ohhh, What’s that short for?”
I smiled. “No names, remember?”
He chuckled. “Alright. Then call me S. Like the letter,” he added with a wink.
“S,” I echoed, tracing the letter lightly against his bicep. “I like that.”
“I like yours too.”
The alcohol buzzed warm and reckless through me. I didn’t overthink it.
“What do you think about getting out of here?” I asked.
His eyes darkened. “You’re bold.”
“Why waste time,” I said, “when we both know where this is going?”
He stood. “I like bold women.”
Outside, the cool night air barely touched the heat between us. We barely made it into the car before his mouth was on mine, hungry, electric, dizzying.
His lips crashed against mine with an urgency that stole my breath, his tongue pushing past my teeth to tangle with mine in deep, demanding strokes.
The driver's seat creaked under his weight as he pulled me closer, one hand gripping the back of my neck while the other slid down to squeeze my thigh through my gown.
I moaned into his mouth, my fingers digging into his shirt as the kiss turned sloppy, wet sounds filling the confined space of the car. The windows fogged slightly from our heavy breathing, the world outside fading to nothing but the thrum of desire pulsing between us.
He broke away just long enough to nip at my lower lip, his eyes dark and locked on mine.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I laid eyes on you,” he growled, voice rough with need, before diving back in, sucking on my tongue like he couldn't get enough.
His hand inched higher up my thigh, bunching the fabric of my gown until his fingers brushed the edge of my panties. I shifted in the passenger seat, spreading my legs instinctively, inviting him closer.
The leather seat stuck to my skin in the summer heat, but I didn't care; every nerve was alive under his touch. He teased the seam of my panties with his fingertips, tracing the outline of my pussy lips through the thin cotton, feeling the dampness already soaking through.
“Fuck, you're wet, El,” he murmured against my mouth, his breath hot and ragged.
I whimpered, bucking my hips toward his hand, desperate for more.
He didn't make me wait long. With a swift tug, he pushed my panties aside, his fingers sliding directly over my slick folds.
One digit circled my entrance, gathering my arousal before pushing inside, slow and deliberate, stretching me just enough to make me gasp.
I clutched his shoulder, nails biting into his muscle as he added a second finger, curling them upward to press against that sensitive spot inside me. His thumb found my clit, rubbing firm circles that sent sparks shooting through my core.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, watching my face twist with pleasure, his mouth claiming mine again in a bruising kiss.
He pumped his fingers faster, the wet sounds of him fucking me with his hand echoing in the car, my pussy clenching around him greedily.
The pressure built quickly, coiling tight in my belly as he worked me relentlessly, thrusting deep, twisting his wrist to hit every angle, his thumb grinding against my swollen clit. My breath came in short pants, breaking the kiss to throw my head back against the seat.
“S... oh god, don't stop,” I begged, my hips grinding down onto his hand, chasing the edge.
He leaned in, his free hand cupping my breast through my top, pinching my nipple hard enough to make me cry out. The dual assault pushed me over; waves of ecstasy crashed through me, my pussy spasming around his fingers as I came hard, soaking his hand with my release.
I shuddered in the seat, moans spilling from my lips unchecked, my body arching toward him until the tremors faded, leaving me limp and panting.
S slowed his movements, easing his fingers out gently, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean and with a satisfied hum.
“Holy Shit,” I whispered.
“I can’t wait to fuck you, El,” He kissed me softly then, tasting of me, his eyes promising that this was only the start.
And then…
Nothing.
The next morning, I woke up alone.
Sunlight sliced through unfamiliar curtains. My head throbbed. My mouth was dry. My heart sank as I sat up slowly, clutching the sheet to my chest.
No man. No S.
Just me, in this rather big hotel room.
Shame settled heavily in my stomach as I dressed quickly, avoiding the mirror. I slipped out of the room and down to the lobby without looking back.
As the cab carried me home, I made myself a promise.
I would never lose control like that again.
That night would stay buried.
Forever.