Layla's POV
The room next to the suite bedroom was a walk-in closet. Its walls had been transformed into sleek shelving, partitioned with enough precision to make it look almost… elegant.
One section was filled with suits, ties, and pants—all black. I didn't need long to figure it out. This wasn't just some fancy hotel room. This was a customized condo. A very personalized one.
Wait—didn't Mr. Darren mention something? The club. The sex club. Oh.
My jaw dropped as my eyes drifted to the other side of the closet. Women's clothing.
Tops. Bottoms. Skirts. Nightgowns. Robes. Swimsuits. Lingerie. Heels and flats, all lined up like a curated display.
On the bottom shelf were drawers, neatly labeled. I pulled one open.
Tampons. Pads with wings. Without wings. A menstrual cup. Intimate wash.
The next drawer had condoms. So many condoms. The one beside it was filled with stringy little things—thongs? G-strings? Another held neatly folded bras in every style.
Who do these belong to?
"Are you done?" Mr. Darren's voice was loud. Was he close by?
"Not yet. Who do these clothes belong to?" I yelled back. I cannot possibly wear anything from here.
There were all sorts of clothes. Formals. Cocktails. Casuals. Slutty. But they couldn't be in my size...
I reached for a shirt, and read the label. It was marked with 'M' (Medium). Wait. That was actually my size.
"I asked Cant to get whatever he thought would go with you.
Just put on something quickly. It's not like that it does matter.
I have places to be," he yelled out loud.
My heart swelled. Why was he doing all of this? He didn't have to. This... All of this. It was too much for one person. It almost made it look like a shopping mart.
"We are running out of time!" His voice boomed.
Creak.
Again, he stormed in, watching me shuffling things in the drawer.
"What are you doing?" He barked, annoyed. "I understand that being a woman makes you lose your senses when you are around clothes, but can you just move?" He narrowed his eyes at me.
I felt his gaze burning into mine. The fact that he had seen me naked more than once was... scaringly amusing.
"Hey—" I pulled out a robe from the hanger, and held it firmly against my body.
"Drop the act. We both know you are not modest, Little Dove. You are a dirty, little, perverted—" He walked closer, his eyes never leaving mine.
He reached behind the shelf, and pulled onto something.
It was a dress. Peach coloured. It was a plain one. Very plain with a white collar and a few buttons.
"I might as well dress you up, if you are going to act like an imbecile," he said.
Anger bubbled inside my chest.
"Wear this," he said, throwing the dress on my face. "If you are not out by five minutes, you better be prepared for what's to come," he said, leaning in. "If you must know, it's something you won't really like," he warned.
He stormed out, leaving me with my thoughts. Again. His hot and cold behaviour was already keeping me on an edge.
There was no time to waste. I put on a modest lingerie set. I slipped into the peach dress that he handed me. Purely because it seemed less lavish than anything else.
When done, I looked at myself in the full body mirror.
My hair. It was still a mess.
Combs and blow dryers rested on the cabinet. I reached for them, quickly drying my golden tresses.
God.
When I was almost done, I heard the click of the door. My hair curled up against the curler. I watched his reflection in the mirror, approaching. His brown eyes darkened.
I realised I still hadn't managed to zip up the dress.
Almost immediately, I turned around, pressing my back to the mirror.
"I don't want any more of your mean comments!" I said. "I am aware, I am late," I sighed in resignment.
He walked, stopping right behind me. I watched him in the mirror. His eyes stared right into mine. I gasped.
Then, he leaned into my neck. His fingers worked against my skin.
Zip.
The dress tightened around my curves, closing on around my body.
"Ah— Thank you," I said, lowering my gaze.
"Stop fooling around. You can do your makeup in the car," he said, scoffing at me.
"Fine," I said.
"Wear these. They are perfect for long hours," he said, giving me a pair of black flats.
I frowned.
"It's an interview. I need to really impress the person. Most people consider flats as boring. I don't want to come across as boring!" I argued.
"Suit yourself," he challenged. I reached for the black stilettos and slipped them on.
He watched silently, without making a snarking comment.
I walked out of the closet with him. Silently. Not another word spoken. Though, I did notice his discomfort. It was my presence perhaps.
His fists clenched on his side. I thought I had heard him mumble. Every now and then, he shook his head, as we walked out of the condo.
The alleys were dark, and lead up to a tunnel filled with neon lights. The decorations became more sporty and bright as we kept walking. It ultimately led to a parking lot.
It didn't take us more than a minute, when a car showed up. An old man, almost as old as my foster father; sat in the driver's seat.
The car was a limited edition Bentley. It was the usual colour of "Darren Aesthetic". Black.
"Get. In." He said, swinging open the door with an impermanent scowl on his face. Asshole.
I did so, without throwing a tantrum. He slipped into the seat next to mine. His fingers gently tapped on his forehead, before he said, "Cant, please drive us to the Avitek Avenue," he said. "Then, drop my wife to her interview," he said.
Wife? As if he didn't hate me to the core.
The man in the front seat nodded curtly.
"Wait..." I said, not realising I was interrupting.
"You work at Avitek?" I looked at him, with wide eyes.
"I do," he said, brushing me off with annoyance.
"I am supposed to have an interview there. Today," I tell him, and his eyes narrowed.
"Say, it isn't for the position of Junior Editing Intern at AD Publications?" He asked, a hint of smirk tugged on his lips.
"Wait. WAIT," my eyes grew wide. This couldn't possibly mean.
"Are you stalking me?" I asked, as my throat turned dry.
A hint of amusement took over his sordid features.
"Little Dove... Always so full of herself. AD Publications. Put two and two together," he smirked. "You'll figure it out. Eventually," he said.
"Straight to Avitek then. No pit stops, Cant," he said. "And please, ask, Mrs. Barren to cancel the interview. I think we got an ideal candidate," he said.
I sat there frozen. No. This can't be happening.
***
Alphonso's POV
She looked so elusive in that lingerie. Despite the fact that my world was bounded to the moonstone, I could feel the heat. Years had passed, yearning for this raw emotion. To feel the warmth spread inside my chest, at the sight of someone.
Layla Chen. She rocked my world with her mere presence. She made me weak. The worst part of it all — she wasn't even trying. She just needed to exist.
Finding her naked in my closet, scented with my soap and shampoo. The urge was irresistible. She stood, unaware of my presence, as her damp hair dripped down her back.
Her soft curves were enticing as she moved from one drawer to the next. She stumbled upon the condoms. Her expression was strange. Was it amusement? Was it fear?
Her throat bobbed as she tried to get her hair out of her face. She didn't even notice it. Her long neck was exposed. The mark — still there.
I was breathing shakily, and she was unbothered.
"Who are you, Little Dove?"
My eyes ran through her body, eating up every little detail. She was so breedable. My body thought so.
If my wolf was here, it could guide me better against the thoughts I was having. To have her. Possess her. Ravish her.
But as luck would have it, the Capo had sealed our powers until the next full moon. It was a fortnight ritual. Ever since the betrayal, the clans didn't want any more wars. Everyone was on edge. Nobody wanted more bloodshed than the one that was due.
But it also made it hard for me to know if my responses were purely biological, or something more.
Almost instinctively, the bulge in my pants swelled up. I was hard. Again. Years without an erection doesn't prepare you for situations like these. The images of last night resurfaced, in a reprieve.
Her naked body. Squirming. Beneath me. The warmth of her touch, and the glow on her face as she rested in peace. Should I have just let myself lose control?
No. That couldn't be appropriate. If I had taken her like that, Avon — my wolf — would hate me. After all, no pact was as sacred as the one with my wolf. And my wolf was one with a high moral ground.
Isn't that why I marked her, years ago?
And now, I couldn't even remember her name. Or her face. Just that she existed.
I let out a low grunt.
It was painful. The erection pressed against my thighs as I shifted uncomfortably.
God. This woman.
She turned around, her eyes meeting mine. I felt the air shift. Something about it was so inviting.
I needed to dress her up. As soon as I could. The longer I stared at her, the harder it became to resist the urge to push her against the wall and spread her thighs against my erection.
She would feel so good.
I shook my head, disgusted with myself. That was just my dick talking.
To move in her. Rhythmically. To make her moan. Scream. Pray. Beg.
That's enough. Now, I was in self-conflict because of a woman. Maybe I needed to train more. Kill more. I couldn't bear to soften down now... especially when she was making me feel so vulnerable.