💃Jessa's POV 💃
I'm trying to avoid the curious, suspicious glances from the doorman, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground as I walk—slow, careful steps—toward the exit, doing my best not to trip over my own feet. I could swear the earth is shifting beneath me, if I didn't know it's just the alcohol fogging up my brain.
What? Never seen a disheveled woman in a wrinkled evening dress leaving a strange building at six in the morning? I bite my tongue to keep from shouting at him, even as his eyes continue to bore into me. This is, without a doubt, the most humiliating moment of my life. I might as well be carrying a sign that says: Just had a one-night stand.
I hop into the first taxi that crosses my path, silently thankful for the lack of morning traffic. Well, at least something's going my way today… I mean, who else is heading home at this hour besides me?
Luckily, the driver—somewhere in his early forties by the looks of it, with a heavy build and a permanent scowl etched across his face—doesn't strike me as the chatty type. No small talk about the weather or politics. Just blessed, uninterrupted silence on the way home. Well… if by "silence" you mean the radio blaring at full volume, intensifying my already-throbbing headache.
When we finally pull up in front of my building—so familiar, so mercifully welcoming under the circumstances—I hand the driver more than the fare and give him a faint smile. "Keep the change."
Let someone have a decent morning, at least…
Unfortunately for me—because of course, I'm just that lucky—a few of my elderly neighbors are already up and about, busying themselves with pointless tasks and ready to cast judgment before their second cup of tea. They catch sight of me—makeup smudged, dress wrinkled, hair a disaster—and stare with blatant disapproval, whispering behind tight-lipped smiles like I can't hear them.
Great. Now I'm officially the neighborhood tramp. Way to go, Jessa.
I dig frantically through my bag for my keys, praying no one else sees me like this. Last thing I need is to become the cover girl for the building's next scandal. Finally! I whisper, the key clinking in the lock as I slip inside, not daring to look back.
Finally! I whisper in relief as I step into the comfort and safety of my apartment—my little sanctuary, especially in the state I'm in.
I toss my bag and heels carelessly by the door and tiptoe toward my room. There's a good chance I can sneak by unnoticed. Serena's not supposed to have a morning shift today, and Lacy has the whole week off…
"Jessa!"
Lacy's voice cuts through the silence, making me stumble over the threshold and nearly faceplant into the floor. I barely manage to catch myself against the wall, heart hammering in my chest.
"Jesus, Lacy! You scared the life out of me!" I press a hand to my chest, trying to calm the chaos inside me.
"Did I just hear Jessa's voice?" Selena rushes in a second later, toothbrush in hand, foam dripping from the corner of her mouth.
So much for my luck.
"Where have you been all night?" Lacy's already raising an eyebrow. "Wait, don't tell me." Her voice takes on that knowing tone I've grown to dread. "You and Robert slipped out early from the party—says it all." She winks at me like she's cracked some great mystery, and just like that, another wave of nausea hits me.
My loyal boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.
I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to scream.
I stop myself from rolling my eyes. I had completely forgotten about the pompous blonde and my hypocrite of an ex until she brought him up again. Strange. The moment I left Lacy's party, I couldn't stop replaying the scene in my head—until I locked eyes with that mysterious, sexy stranger. After that, everything else just… vanished.
"It's not what you think, Serena," I mutter, collapsing onto the couch, too drained to hold myself up anymore. "I caught Robert swapping bodily fluids with some plastic doll right outside the club last night. Haven't seen him since. Don't want to, either."
"The bastard!" Lacy shrieks, throwing her hands in the air and muttering a stream of curses under her breath. "I never liked him!"
"Never trust a guy who hates wearing ties," she adds with a dramatic huff as she plops down beside me and pulls me into one of her signature tight hugs—furious, warm, and oddly comforting.
I let out a soft laugh. Lacy is obsessed with men in suits. It's a weakness we both share.
"Yeah, but that still doesn't explain where you've been or why you look like you spent the whole night rolling around in someone's sheets," Serena says, tilting her head and pointing an accusatory finger at me with a sly grin.
I can feel the blood rushing to my face—God, I must be redder than the dress I'm still wearing. I start fiddling nervously with my fingers, my eyes dropping from Serena amused face to the floor.
It's over. The secret's out.
"You. Are. Kidding. Me!" she shrieks, bursting into uncontrollable laughter.
Lacy pulls away from the hug, eyes wide, hand flying to her mouth like she just witnessed a plot twist on one of her trashy romance shows.
Seriously. What is with everyone today?!
"I want details. All of them!" she exclaims, more excited than I've ever seen her. "Who is he? What does he look like? Where did you meet? How was it?!"
Her words come at me like a rapid-fire assault, and I'm already dizzy, barely keeping up.
Shit. I'm so not ready for this. Not that I'll ever be ready, honestly—but now? Definitely not.
"Girls, please," I groan, "I just want to collapse into my bed and die for a few hours…"
"Girls, please… I just want to crawl into my bed and stay there until tomorrow," I mumble as I push myself up from the couch, barely managing to stay upright. My legs are shaky, and I feel like I might just flop right back down. I'm in no state to talk—or even think—about last night. I'm still hungover, still dizzy, still done.
"I'll bet you do," Serena smirks, that mischievous sparkle in her eyes as she throws me a playful wink.
"That's enough, seriously," I mutter with a glare, already staggering toward my bedroom. "Night—uh, I mean, morning!"
Please, no more awkward questions. I don't care if the nausea's eased up a bit—I'm still not functional enough for this.
"Was he wearing a suit?" Lacy's voice calls out behind me, followed by both of them bursting into loud, delighted laughter.
"Hilarious!" I snap, slamming my bedroom door shut behind me without an ounce of grace.
I don't even bother with a shower. I'm shocked I have the energy to peel off this damn dress, pull on my pajamas, and crawl into bed. The nausea slams back into me the moment my head hits the pillow. I wrap the blankets tight around myself with slow, clumsy movements, desperate to shut out the world—and this godawful feeling.
But no matter how hard I try to push the memories away, I can't stop my thoughts from drifting back to him.
What's he doing now, I wonder? Kane?
🧖♂️Kane's POV🧖♂️
It must be past six in the morning by now—which officially makes today the only day I've broken from my usual routine. For the first time in years, I won't be in my office by exactly seven. But unlike every other morning, where I either leave a hotel room or wake up alone in this penthouse, today marks something else entirely.
Today is the first time a woman has spent the night in my bed. I always believed I'd never trust a woman enough to let her into my space, my sanctuary. But with her… it was different.
Everything was different.
A lazy warmth spreads through me as flashes of last night return. I've never met anyone quite like her—so innocent and sweet, yet with that wild, playful fire burning just beneath the surface. Desire stirs in my chest again at the memory of her arms wrapped around me with such hunger, of her lips begging—needing—to be kissed. A slow smile curls at the corners of my mouth. Eyes still closed, I reach out, expecting to find the soft curve of her body nestled against mine, the faint scent of her still lingering on my skin…
But the bed is empty.
I sit up abruptly, scanning the room.
carefully. Nothing. Frowning, I throw on a pair of pants and head out in search of her through the rest of the apartment. For a moment, I'm tempted to call out her name—if only I knew it. Apparently, I was too damn enchanted last night to even think of asking what she was called.
What name would even suit a creature so delicate, so captivating?
I check every room—bedrooms, kitchen, even the guest bathroom—growing more irritated with each passing second. The pleasant haze of satisfaction from earlier begins to unravel, replaced by a rising edge of frustration.
"Where the hell is she?" I mutter, sharp and low.
Crossing through the living room, I freeze. Her dress is gone. So is her purse. No… No, there's no way. She wouldn't have just… left. That's not possible. But after a few more minutes of searching and coming up empty, I'm forced to accept the bitter truth.
She did leave. Just like that. No note. No goodbye. She walked out. No woman has ever done that before. Not once. They usually cling after nights like last night—cling and beg for more, hoping they'll be the one to break through, the one I won't forget.
But she left me.
I storm toward my phone with heavy, purposeful steps, my fists still clenched tight. Without hesitation, I call the doorman—just to confirm what I already suspect.
"Mr. Kane?" his voice comes through, too calm for my liking.
"Did a woman leave the building this morning?" I ask, my tone sharp and clipped, running a hand through my already disheveled hair.
"Beautiful brunette in a red dress?" he chuckles, that smug tone pushing my irritation to the edge. "Yeah, she left a few minutes ago."
I grip the phone tighter until my knuckles ache, then hang up without another word.
How dare she? She just walked out—like last night meant nothing. My eyes scan the room again, desperate for something—anything—to prove she was real. A perfume trail, a forgotten earring, a wrinkle in the sheets.
But there's nothing. And I still can't believe this is actually happening. If she thinks she can vanish without consequence, she's dead wrong. I always get what I want. And right now, that woman is like a drug in my system—taunting me, haunting me with every second I replay the way she looked at me, the way she moaned my name. The moment I find her—and I will—I'll make damn sure she regrets walking away. She'll beg to stay.
"Just wait, little runaway," I murmur, eyes dark with intent. "I'll find you. And when I do… you'll never leave my bed again."