I Paid the CEO for a Night
18+
The scent of gardenias always made Elira think of her wedding day. The vibrant blooms, the soft silk of her gown, the promise of forever. Tonight, that same scent felt like a suffocating joke. It was her fourth wedding anniversary, and she had planned a surprise dinner at "The White Balcony," the most exclusive restaurant in Tirana. It had been hard to secure a table, but Elira, the beloved daughter of the Lekaj family, knew how to make things happen.
She arrived an hour early to ensure everything was perfect. But as she was being led to their secluded booth, she saw them.
In a darkened corner of the bar area, not yet open to the public, was her husband, Dorian. And with him, his "secretary," Bora. They weren't just close; they were inseparable. His hand, the same hand that had slipped a ring onto hers, was caressing Bora’s face. The soft, possessive gaze he reserved only for Elira was focused entirely on another woman. The soft murmur of their laughter, the secret, intimate world they had built, shattered Elira's heart into a million sharp, jagged pieces.
She stood frozen, her world turning askew. The elegant restaurant, the perfect dinner, the promise of their future—all of it was a lie. A beautiful, devastating lie. She didn't scream. She didn't confront them. She simply turned and walked out, the gardenia scent now choking her.
She ended up in a sleek, high-end cocktail bar. One shot. Two. Three. Each one burned, but not as much as the image burned behind her eyes. The pain was dulling, replaced by a fuzzy, spinning haze. She needed to forget. She needed to erase the image of Dorian and Bora.
...
"You look like you need a friend, beautiful." His hand, slick and unwanted, landed on her shoulder.
Elira tried to shrug him off, but her body felt disconnected, a heavy, disobedient thing
elira(fl)
No, I'm fine. Just... celebrating." The words slurred, thick and clumsy in her throat.
...
"Celebrating alone is no fun. Come on, I know a place we can really celebrate
He wasn't asking. He was steering her, guiding her toward the exit and, she realized with a cold prickle of fear through the alcohol, toward a set of elevators.
He pushed the button for a high floor. The numbers blinked rapidly as they ascended. 10... 15... 20. When the doors slid open, they were in a different world—a hallway lined with thick, plush carpet and the quiet, heavy atmosphere of a high-stakes business floor. This wasn't a party floor. This was where important, powerful people stayed.
...
He began pulling her down the corridor, his grip tightening. "Just a little farther
Fear began to cut through the haze. This was wrong. She needed to get away. She tried to pull back, but her legs were like water.
elira(fl)
Stop. Where... where are we going?"
...
To my room. We'll have a much better time there."
Panic flared. She had to fight. As they approached a set of double doors, which had just opened to reveal a man stepping out, Elira wrenched herself free. The force of her sudden movement sent her stumbling, and she crashed right into him
She hit his chest like a bird hitting a window. He was solid, unyielding, and smelled faintly of expensive cedarwood and power. He was impeccable in a tailored charcoal suit, his face a mask of cold, focused annoyance. He was Arbi Kastrati, and he had just finished a meeting that would secure a multi-million Euro merger. His night was supposed to be over.
arbi (ml)
"Watch where you're going," he snapped, his voice a low growl of pure irritation.
elira(fl)
Sorry," Elira mumbled, grabbing his tie for support. "Sorry... he... he was taking me...
...
The man who had been with her caught up, looking from Elira to Arbi. "It's fine. She's with me. Just a little drunk, right, honey?
Arbi looked down at Elira, who was now leaning her forehead against his chest, her eyes closed. He looked from her to the man, his eyes narrowing. The man’s grin was strained, nervous. He knew exactly who Arbi was.
...
Tell her my name," the man commanded Elira, his voice sharp and demanding.
elira(fl)
Elira blinked, her eyes hazy, her mind spinning. "Your... your name? I don't know your name.
The man’s face went pale. He hadn't expected that. He had hoped the fear, or the confusion, would make her stay quiet. But she didn't even know who he was.
elira(fl)
"He... he was trying to take me to his room," she whispered to Arbi, her voice a fragile, broken thing. "I don't want to go."
Arbi’s gaze shifted back to the man, and a cold, dangerous light appeared in his eyes. The man saw it. He knew he had miscalculated. He knew he was in trouble. Without a word, he turned and ran, his shoes pounding a frantic rhythm on the carpet as he disappeared back down the hallway.
Arbi looked down at Elira, who was now sagging against him, all her fight gone. He had a million things to do, but he couldn't just leave her here, on the floor of his hotel.
arbi (ml)
What's your name?" he asked, his voice softer now.
elira(fl)
"Elira." The name was a fragile sigh.
arbi (ml)
Elira. Do you have a room here?"
elira(fl)
She shook her head, a slow, disoriented movement. "No. I was... at a bar. With... him
arbi (ml)
"Okay, Elira. I'm going to take you to my room. It's safe."
He picked her up, her body surprisingly light in his arms. She was a tangled mess of silk and wine and unspeakable sadness.
He carried her down the hall and swiped his card, the heavy wooden door swinging open to reveal a suite that was more like an apartment. The lights were low, the atmosphere cool and detached. He carried her to the master bedroom and set her down on the king-sized bed, its crisp white sheets a stark contrast to her dark, dishevelled beauty.
He turned to leave, to call security and have them find out where she lived. But as he did, a hand, small and cold, grabbed his tie.
He froze. Her voice was different now. Not slurred, but desperate. Hungry. Full of a raw, primal need that he didn't understand.
elira(fl)
"I need you to stay."
He turned back to her, her face a pale oval in the dim light. Her eyes were wide, and in their depths, he saw a storm of emotions—pain, anger, and a desperate, clawing loneliness that he recognized, even if he didn't want to.
She pulled on his tie, forcing him to lean down. Her lips, soft and demanding, were against his. The taste of wine and despair washed over him. He should have pulled away. He should have been professional. But the pain in her kiss, the raw, unfiltered honesty of it, drew him in
elira(fl)
You'll do," she whispered against his lips. And in that moment, she was the one in control.
The morning sun streamed into the room, a cruel reminder of the reality she had been trying to escape. Elira woke with a pounding headache and a mouth that felt like it was filled with cotton. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. The room was unfamiliar, luxurious, and smelled of... cedarwood
The memories came flooding back in a tidal wave of shame. The restaurant. Dorian and Bora. The greasy man. The collision. And then... the room.
She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist. She was alone. The bed beside her was empty, but the indentation on the other pillow, the subtle scent of him, confirmed that it hadn't been a dream. She had... she had forced herself onto a complete stranger.
Panic began to set in. What had she done? Who was he? What if he was a monster? What if...?
She looked around the room, desperately seeking a clue. On the floor, near a chair, was his suit jacket
She felt a wave of nausea. This was a nightmare. She needed to leave. She needed to get out of here before he came back.
She found her clothes, which were surprisingly neat and folded, draped over a chair. She dressed quickly, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. She couldn't face him. She couldn't look him in the eye and explain herself.
She was almost to the door when her gaze fell on her purse. Her purse. The thought of paying him... it was the ultimate, desperate act of a woman who had lost everything and was now trying to buy back her dignity.
She opened her wallet. Inside was a stack of banknotes, her spending money for the trip she and Dorian were supposed to be taking next week. A trip that would never happen. She took out a large sum, not even counting it, and laid it on the nightstand beside the bed. Beside it, she placed her wedding ring, the diamond winking in the morning light. It was a final, devastating statement.
elira(fl)
Paid in full," she whispered, the words choking her.
She walked out of the room, her high heels clicking a frantic rhythm on the carpet. She didn't look back.
The morning air in Tirana was cool and crisp, but it didn't soothe her. She was a married woman who had just cheated on her cheating husband with a powerful, dangerous stranger. She was a mess.
She stopped on a street corner, the noise of the city a blurred hum. She needed to make one final call. The one call she should have made the moment she saw Dorian.
...
Elira? You're calling very early. Is everything okay?"
She took a deep breath, fighting back the tears. The time for crying was over. It was time to be the Elira her father had raised her to be. The Elira who was named after "Freedom."
elira(fl)
"Dad. I need you to do something for me. I need you to make me divorce Dorian."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight with control
elira(fl)
"I saw him, Dad. At 'The White Balcony.' He was with... with someone else. It's over."
...
Her father exhaled, a long, angry sound. "Are you sure?"
elira(fl)
"Yes. I'm sure. I'm... I'm at the hotel. I'm coming to see you now."
...
Stay where you are. I'm sending a car. We'll handle this, Elira. We'll handle everything."
She hung up, her hands shaking. She had done it. She had finally taken the first step toward a new life. A life without Dorian. A life where she was, finally, free.
But as she stood on that street corner, waiting for her father's car, she couldn't help but look back toward the hotel, toward the high-rise suite where a man named Arbi was probably just waking up. She had paid him to be a stranger. To be a beautiful, temporary distraction.
But she had a sinking feeling that Arbi Kastrati was a man you didn't just pay and walk away from. You either owned him, or he owned you. And in her desperation to be free, Elira had a terrifying suspicion she might have just traded one master for anothe
argument
The morning sun hit the marble floors of the Shala mansion, but it felt cold to Elira. She didn't pause to take off her coat. She walked straight into the dining room where Dorian was casually sipping coffee, his "secretary" Bora sitting in Elira’s usual chair.
...
(Surprised) "Elira? You didn't come home last night. I was worried."
elira(fl)
Ku ishe mbrëmë, Dorian?" (Where were you last night, Dorian?)
...
Në punë, e di mirë." (At work, you know that.)
elira(fl)
Gënjeshtar." (Liar.)
She slammed a thick envelope onto the table, splashing his coffee. Bora jumped back, looking nervous.
elira(fl)
Nënshkruaji. Tani." (Sign them. Now.)
...
(Looking at the papers) "Divorc? Je e çmendur? Për një keqkuptim?" (Divorce? Are you crazy? Over a misunderstanding?)
elira(fl)
Dorian’s Mother (Mimoza): (Entering the room, shrieking) "Çfarë po ndodh këtu? Elira, si guxon të flasësh kështu me djalin tim?" (What is happening here? Elira, how dare you speak to my son like this?)
elira(fl)
Djali yt është një tradhtar, Mimoza. Mbaje atë dhe këtë rreckën tjetër. Unë mbarova." (Your son is a traitor, Mimoza. Keep him and this other rag. I'm done.)
The argument exploded. Mimoza screamed about family honor, while Dorian tried to grab Elira’s arm. Elira slapped his hand away with a look of pure disgust.
elira(fl)
Mos më prek. Ti nuk vlen as sa hiri i cigares sime." (Don't touch me. You aren't even worth the ash of my cigarette.)
She walked out, leaving the house of lies behind. She was "Elira" now—free.
Meanwhile, in a much grander villa overlooking the hills of Tirana, Arbi Kastrati walked through his front door. He looked tired, his tie loosened, and his shirt slightly wrinkled. His mother, Zonja Fatime, was already in the garden with her morning tea.
...
Arbi? Erdhe më në fund? Takimi paska zgjatur shumë." (Arbi? You're finally here? The meeting must have lasted long.)
arbi (ml)
Po, nënë. Ishte një natë e komplikuar." (Yes, mother. It was a complicated night.)
As he leaned down to kiss her cheek, Fatime’s sharp eyes caught something. A dark, purple mark just below his collarbone. She smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
...
Oho! Shikoni pak! Arbi Kastrati paska rënë në kurth?" (Oho! Look at this! Has Arbi Kastrati fallen into a trap?)
arbi (ml)
(Confused) "Çfarë po thua?" (What are you talking about?)
...
Kjo shenjë në qafë nuk duket si vulë kontrate." (That mark on your neck doesn't look like a contract seal.)
arbi (ml)
Arbi stiffened, covering his neck. He felt a heat crawl up his face—a feeling he hadn't felt in years. Just then, the head butler approached.
...
Zoti Arbi, dhoma juaj në hotel është pastruar. Por... kishte diçka të lënë pas." (Mr. Arbi, your room at the hotel has been cleaned. But... there was something left behind.)
arbi (ml)
Kush po lëviz në dhomën tjetër?" (Who is moving into the other room?)
...
Është motra juaj nga njerku, zotëri. A dëshironi të shihni foton e saj? Ajo vjen sot." (It’s your step-sister, sir. Would you like to see her photo? She arrives today.)
arbi (ml)
Jo, nuk më intereson. Kam punë." (No, I'm not interested. I have work.)
Arbi sat down across from his mother, rubbing his temples. He couldn't stop thinking about the woman who had kissed him with such fire and then treated him like a transaction.
arbi (ml)
Nënë... dua të të pyes diçka." (Mother... I want to ask you something.)
...
Më thuaj, bir." (Tell me, son.)
arbi (ml)
Çfarë do të thotë nëse një femër flen me ty gabimisht... dhe pastaj të lë para mbi komodinë?" (What does it mean if a woman sleeps with you by mistake... and then leaves money on the nightstand?)
Fatime nearly choked on her tea. She started laughing so hard she had to set her cup down.
...
Do të thotë se ajo mendon që ti je një 'shoqërues' me pagesë, Arbi! Ajo të paska paguar si escort!" (It means she thinks you are a paid companion, Arbi! She paid you like an escort!)
arbi (ml)
Arbi looked away, his jaw tightening. "Një escort?" (An escort?) He felt a mix of extreme embarrassment and a strange, burning intrigue. No one had ever insulted him this effectively.
Back at the Shala house, the atmosphere turned sinister. Dorian was fuming, but Bora, his mistress, was smiling. She pulled out her phone and showed him a grainy photo taken by a spy she had hired to follow Elira.
It was a photo of Elira in the hotel hallway, wrapped in Arbi’s arms, their lips locked in a passionate kiss.
...
Shikoje 'shenjtoren' tënde, Dorian. Ajo nuk paska humbur kohë." (Look at your 'saint,' Dorian. She didn't waste any time.)
...
(Laughing darkly) "Kjo është e mrekullueshme. Ajo do divorc? Tani unë do t'i marr çdo qindarkë." (This is wonderful. She wants a divorce? Now I will take every penny from her.)
Elira, sitting in her father’s car miles away, felt a sudden chill. She didn't know that the man she "paid" was the most powerful man in Albania—or that her ex-husband now held a weapon that could ruin her reputation forever.
step sister
elira(fl)
The living room of the Shala house felt like a courtroom, and Elira was the one on trial. Dorian held his phone out, the screen glowing with the image of Elira pinned against a man in a hotel hallway. The man’s face was obscured, only the broad silhouette of his back and his expensive charcoal suit visible.
...
Kjo është bashkëshortja ime 'e ndershme'? Turp!" (This is my 'honest' wife? Shame!)
...
Sa kushtoi ai djalë, Elira? A ishte më i lirë se Dorian?" (How much did that boy cost, Elira? Was he cheaper than Dorian?)
...
Ti nuk meriton asgjë nga kjo familje!" (You deserve nothing from this family!)
In a fit of rage, Mimoza grabbed the silk sleeve of Elira’s dress and yanked. The fabric tore with a sickening rip, exposing Elira’s shoulder. Elira didn't cry. she stood tall, clutching the torn fabric to her chest, her eyes burning with a cold fire.
elira(fl)
Mbajeni këtë shtëpi të fëlliqur. Unë jam e lirë tani." (Keep this filthy house. I am free now.)
She walked out the front door, shivering in the morning air. But she wasn't alone for long. A black luxury sedan pulled up, and a man in a crisp suit stepped out. It was Arbi’s head butler.
...
Zonjushe Elira, babai juaj më dërgoi. Koha për të shkuar në shtëpi." (Miss Elira, your father sent me. Time to go home.)
Elira arrived at the Lekaj estate, which was now joined with the Kastrati family through her father’s second marriage. As she stepped into the foyer, Fatime (Arbi’s mother) was waiting with a fake, sugary smile.
...
Mirë se erdhe, Elira. Shpresoj që dhoma jote të të pëlqejë." (Welcome, Elira. I hope you like your room.)
Elira didn't even look at her. She walked past Fatime as if she were a ghost, heading straight for her father’s study. Fatime’s smile dropped into a look of pure resentment.
elira(fl)
(Entering the study) "Babi." (Dad.)
...
Ta thashë, Elira. Ta thashë që ai ishte njeri i keq. Dorian nuk ishte kurrë për ty." (I told you, Elira. I told you he was a bad man. Dorian was never for you.)
Elira sank into a chair, her heart heavy. Her father looked at her with pity, but also with a strange calculation. He had married Fatime for power, and now he wanted Elira to be part of that power dynamic.
arbi (ml)
(To his mother in the hallway) "Pse është ajo këtu? Shtëpia u bë si hotel." (Why is she here? This house has become like a hotel.)
...
Është motra jote tani, Arbi. Tregohu i sjellshëm." (She is your sister now, Arbi. Be polite.)
arbi (ml)
She is nothing to me
Arbi had a board meeting to attend, but the thought of facing the "stepsister" he had never met annoyed him. He decided not to show up for the family dinner. Instead, he called his butler.
arbi (ml)
Nuk vij për darkë. Dërgoi asaj vajzës diçka... një gjerdan diamanti. Thuaji që është dhuratë mirëseardhjeje." (I’m not coming for dinner. Send that girl something... a diamond necklace. Tell her it’s a welcome gift.)
An hour later, the butler presented a velvet box to Elira in front of her father and Fatime. Elira opened it to find a necklace worth thousands of Euros. She let out a dry, mocking laugh.
elira(fl)
Diamantë? Ai mendon se mund të blejë heshtjen time apo respektin tim me gurë?" (Diamonds? He thinks he can buy my silence or my respect with stones?)
...
Është një gjest i mirë nga Arbi." (It’s a good gesture from Arbi.)
elira(fl)
Është një fyerje." (It’s an insult.)
Outside the office building later that day, Arbi’s assistant, Leo, was looking through the files of the new family members.
...
Zoti Arbi, a nuk do ta takoni motrën tuaj? Ajo është në shtëpi tani." (Mr. Arbi, won't you meet your sister? She is at home now.)
arbi (ml)
Jo. Nuk kam kohë për drama familjare." (No. I don't have time for family dramas.)
...
Po për atë vajzën që kërkuat? Atë nga hoteli?" (What about that girl you asked for? The one from the hotel?)
arbi (ml)
(His eyes sharpening) "E gjetët?" (Did you find her?)
...
Zotëri... ajo është e martuar. Dhe sapo ka nisur një proces divorci shumë të shëmtuar." (Sir... she is married. And she just started a very ugly divorce process.)
Arbi’s face went cold. The memory of her touch, the scent of her hair, and the way she had tossed the money at him flashed through his mind.
arbi (ml)
E martuar? Atëherë nuk më intereson më. Nuk merrem me mbeturinat e të tjerëve." (Married? Then I’m not interested anymore. I don’t deal with other people's trash.)
He slammed the car door, unaware that the "married girl" he was trying to forget was currently sitting in his own dining room, wearing the necklace he had sent as a cold formality.
Download NovelToon APP on App Store and Google Play
