The morning light streamed through the curtains, soft but unforgiving.
She blinked herself awake, the unfamiliar room slowly coming into focus. This wasn't her bed.
Panic mixed with irritation as she bolted upright, only to realize she was stark naked. Her outfit, or what was left of it, lay on the floor in ripped, useless pieces.
Her teeth clenched. The audacity.
Spotting his shirt neatly folded on the bed, she snatched it up with a glare. As if she'd wear it.
Wrapping herself in the bedsheet instead, she stomped out of the room, holding the shirt like it was contaminated.
The house was absurdly luxurious, all polished wood and shiny leather, a mansion stuck in the 80s. She heard his voice before she saw him, cool and commanding.
In the living room, he sat in a tailored suit, flanked by two clients. A case file rested in his lap. "And you're certain your son did not assault this woman in any way?" he asked, his voice sharp with professionalism.
The woman across from him clutched her son's hand, her face a mask of outrage. "I swear it! My son is such a good man. He would never hurt anyone."
Nikki stepped into view, radiating defiance. She caught his eye and he raised an eyebrow, gesturing toward the door. The meaning was clear: Get out.
His jaw tightened, a flicker of impatience crossing his otherwise composed face.
But she wasn't going to make this easy. Folding her arms around herself, she stared him down.
Slowly, deliberately, she held up his shirt, let it drop to the floor, and stepped on it.
A vein in his temple twitched. His expression remained unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.
"And I want to charge that girl for defamation of my sons name," the woman continued, oblivious to the storm brewing. "She'll pay a hefty sum as compensation."
Nikki smirked, her challenge clear. She didn't budge. If anything, she leaned into his irritation, letting her defiance simmer in the room.
And then she went further. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she let the sheet slip slightly, revealing a teasing glimpse of her bare thighs.
His reaction was immediate. Though his features remained stoic, his eyes burned with unspoken fury.
The son, noticing her for the first time, grinned, his gaze lingering a little too long.
That was the final straw.
Clearing his throat sharply, Damien stood. "Excuse me. I need to handle something briefly," he said to his clients.
The moment they nodded, he moved with calculated purpose, but Nikki was already gone, sprinting up the stairs like a woman on a mission.
He followed without hesitation, his every step deliberate, his eyes promising consequences.