chapter 2

*Naomi’s POV*

I woke up with a hangover, my mouth was dry, my head reeling, and my entire body ached in ways I couldn't explain. "What happened?" I asked myself as I held my head trying to recall.

The sheets that was wrapped around me were softer than mine. The scent lingering in the air was different—rich, masculine, intoxicating.

I stood up and watched as the covers slipped off my body. My naked body.

What the hell?

My hands trembled as I did a quick check—no clothes, no memory of putting them back on. Just bare skin and the faint traces of last night’s madness tingling all over me, just thinking about it was already giving me goosebumps.

Suddenly, my mood changed as I remembered all the drama from yesterday. Alexander and Rachel, the betrayal, the bar, and the stranger.

A stranger who kissed me like I was his last breath, Who whispered sweet nothing to my ear and everything against my skin, Who worshipped my body like he had spent lifetimes searching for it.

I started smiling like a child, he stared at me with his brown eyes that was filled with something dark, something dangerous.

He stares at me intently like I was a sin worth committing.

His lips had sent fire down my body, his hands molding me to his will. His mouth… Oh, his mouth.

I swallowed hard, my fingers brushing against my collarbone where his lips had lingered. My skin still felt raw from his touch.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to recall his face—but it was a blur. The only thing I could clearly remember was those piercing brown eyes and the way they had devoured me.

I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

What had I done?

I never did things like this, I have never given myself to a man I didn’t know.

But last night… Last night, I wasn't Naomi, the woman preparing to marry her so-called perfect fiancé. I was someone else entirely. Someone desperate, Someone reckless.

And now, I was alone in a stranger’s bed, the weight of my choices sinking in.

I turned my head, scanning the room. My clothes were neatly placed on a chair. My heels sat on the floor beside them.

And then—

"A note"

The note was neatly folded into half and was placed placed on the desk beside the bed.

I moved closer to the desk and picked the paper up, my heart beating.

"Thanks for last night." Attached to it was a bundle of dollar bills.

A cold, ugly feeling spread through my chest as I stared at the money, frustrating rising in me.

Wait. Did he think I was a whore?

I became furious, I squeezed the note tightly, crumpling it in my hands.

"How dare he?"

I wasn’t some woman he could pay off and forget. I didn't ask for his money neither did I sell myself to him.

I threw the sheets away, stood up from the damn bed and picked up my dress, my hands were shaking as I wore my clothes, frustration building inside me. When I was done, I turned to leave but then I stopped.

My eyes went back to the money, "I would need the money for transportation, I said to myself."

With a bitter laugh, I grabbed a few bills, threw them into my bag before storming out of the room.

...

The ride home was quiet. The driver barely spoke, and I was grateful. My head was still aching from the hangover, and also the feeling of regret.

By the time I got to my house, the sun was up already and my gut told me I was in trouble.

I barely stepped inside before I started hearing voices.

"Naomi, where were you?"

I searched the room for the owner of the voice and to my surprise, It was Alexander.

His voice came from the living room, sharp and demanding.

Rachel was beside him, arms crossed, eyes wide with concern—or was it guilt?

"Naomi, dear, are you alright?" she asked.

I stared at her.

The audacity.

Memories of last night came into my head again. The sound of her voice moaning my fiancé’s name. The way he had held her, whispered to her, loved her.

My stomach churned.

I turned away, only for another voice to slice through the room.

My Aunty, Rachel's mom.

"You were with your lover, weren't you?"

She smirked, looking me up and down like I was filth.

I was determined not to answer any of their questions, not today.

I ignored them all, heading straight for my room.

I grabbed a suitcase, throwing it open on my bed. My hands worked fast, shoving clothes, shoes, documents—anything important—inside.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I blinked them away. I refused to cry.

Not over them, not over him.

I took a deep breath as I admired my room one last time.

"Goodbye." Without another word, I dragged my suitcase downstairs.

The sound made them all turn.

"What's going on here?" my aunty asked, her voice sharp.

I met her eyes, then Alexander’s.

Rachel shifted uncomfortably beside him.

"The wedding is off," I said.

There was a sudden silence in the room.

"Naomi, wait," Alexander stepped forward, reaching for me, but I pulled back.

"Don’t," I warned, my voice ice-cold.

His brows furrowed. "At least let’s talk about this."

I laughed, the sound bitter. "Talk? Like how you talked with Rachel last night? Or how you planned to use me for my inheritance?" I wanted to say, but kept quite.

Rachel gasped. "Naomi, what's wrong? Is it wedding glitters? Are you feeling nervous?"

"Shut up," I snapped, my patience gone.

She was shocked.

Alexander exhaled. "Naomi, please. You’re upset. And we don't even know what's wrong. Tell us so we could fix it."

Fix?

I bent my head, staring at the man I once thought was my future.

How easily he could lie, How shamelessly he could stand here and act like he did nothing.

I moved closer, my voice a whisper.

"I saw you."

His face paled.

"I heard you."

Rachel shifted beside him, her face crumbling.