Chapter 3

Alani Lane

I swallowed hard, forcing puffs of air into my lungs as my heartbeat thundered in my ears. "I'm not drunk," I mumbled under my breath, the words coming slower than I intended. The hallway tilted just slightly, and for a second or two, I stumbled forward before I regained my footing.

"Right," Alexander Voss said flatly. "You can't even stand straight without swaying." He indicated with his hand, his eyes sweeping over me.

I straightened, or at least tried to. "I'm just... a littl-e tipsy," I argued, letting out a hiccup. With a shake of his head, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the club space, where the bass made the floor vibrate and the neon lights threatened to blind me.

"Ma'am!" The bartender called, waving his hands in the air. "Your bill," he reminded, over the booming bass, placing a receipt on the counter. Voss sighed, let go of my hand and pulled out his wallet. As he walked over to pay my bill, another image of Shane gripping my mother's hips as he slammed into her flashed before my hazy vision. An additional one of the stripper's smug faces as he pressed me on the wall followed, sending an icy shiver down my back.

I didn't wait for Voss to return; I staggered to the dance floor, hoping to dance away my troubles. Since alcohol had not helped, maybe moving my hips would, anything to help me forget. So I attempted to follow the beat, swaying my hips sloppily.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Lane?" Voss spoke behind me, against my ear, his warm breath slithering down my neck.

I took a deep breath, then turned slowly to avoid falling on my face. He stood stiff in the middle of the dance floor, in his elegant tailored suit and with a scowl on his face. "You stand out like a damn sore thumb," I shouted over the bass. "Loosen up a little," I cooed, running my hand over his chest, feeling the warmth of his fabric. The music pulsed through me, and I let my body move with it.

"Alani," he warned.

I placed my index finger over his mouth. "Sshh," I murmured. "Just let me forget." 

He didn't answer as I resumed moving, pressing closer to him, the small contact sending a spark through me. I wrapped my hands around his neck, my six-inch heels making it easier to manage the height. I then tilted my head back slightly despite the lightheadedness and let the rhythm drown Shane's face, my stepmother's voice and the stripper's touch. 

"Enough," Voss uttered, making me flutter my eyes open. "We're leaving." He gripped my upper arm and pulled me, without giving me enough space to protest.

I was quiet even as we boarded the elevator, fighting the burning feeling in my eyes. "You are lucky I was there at the right time," Voss broke the silence. "Otherwise that idiot would have harmed you."

I scoffed weakly. "No, he wouldn't have. I was handling him."

Voss raised his brow. "He had you trapped against the wall, Miss Lane. So how exactly were you handling him?" he asked.

"None of your business," I snapped, walking out of the lift into the corridor.

He tightened his hold on my arm, keeping me steady. "You better not fuck up the meeting tomorrow, because if you do—"

"You'll fire me, blah blah blah," I mocked, cutting myself off.

He was about to answer when I suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway, looking at the endless doors, trying to remember ours, the very same one my life had been crushed in front of my eyes in.

"The keycard." Voss spread his left hand in front of me. I patted my pockets, and that is when I realised I did not have my clutch bag nor my phone with me. I must have left them in the club, likely on the counter.

"Let me guess, you lost it." He chuckled. I didn't utter any word as he fished out his wallet and pulled a key card. "Took this after you left the reception area; thought you'd be asleep by the time I came back." He waved it in my face. "Anyway, turns out there was a mix-up with the room assigned earlier because it was occupied. Did you find anyone when you came up?"

I stared at the floor, my lips trembling. Everything I had strived to forget came rushing back; every moan and every sound of pleasure from Shane and Caroline flooded my mind. "Ye-s," I slurred, a pair of tears escaping.

"Oh, so that's why you went to the club?" I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. There was no way I was going to tell him who the occupants were and what they had done.

"You should have called me," he said, grabbed my wrist and guided me to another suite, straight to the bedroom.

I sat on the bed, wondering how many times Shane and Caroline had fucked in their suite. Did they at any point feel guilty? Or even think about the wedding, my feelings? As I thought, the room suddenly felt hot, stifling and suffocating, like it was sucking every bit of air. Maybe it was the alcohol, the dancing or the jumbled thoughts in my mind, but either way I needed to cool down. Without a second thought, I began fumbling with the buttons of my silk blouse, undoing them one by one. Just as I undid the last one, Voss's steps, followed by his voice, filled the room.

"Drink this," he said. I turned slowly, my eyes falling on the bottle of water in his hands, standing in the doorway.

His eyes widened a fraction as he looked at me. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked, shrugging the blouse off. Using my right hand, I began fanning myself, sighing at the slight cooling effect it brought.

"Put your blouse back on," he commanded, his eyes directed at the rug.

"No, it's too hot." I defied, moving forward until I stood a few feet from him. "You're acting as if you haven't seen a woman's chest before," I said. "Are you shy, Mr Voss? Or are you gay because straight men do not avoid staring at boobs?" I whispered the last part, craning my neck to look at him.

"You're drunk," he pointed out.

"No, I'm hot, and..." I trailed off, hazily remembering the many times I had turned down men because I wanted to stay faithful to Shane, only for him to betray me like he did. What if the only way to get over his actions was stooping to his level? What if I needed another man's touch to erase his memories, to replace them with a different feeling? It was obvious music and liquor had not helped, so I did the only thing I could think of at that moment.

I took Alexander's left hand, held my breath, lifted it and placed it on my right boob. I exhaled at the contact, my nipples hardening instantly at the contact.

"Alani," he breathed, lowering his eyes to my chest, then to my lips.

"Make me forget," I whispered. "Touch m-e," I stuttered, closing my eyes when he squeezed the flesh slightly, awakening sparks of pleasure inside of me.

"No," he muttered. "You're engaged, getting married in a few days." I closed my eyes at his words, my heart constricting.

"It doesn't matter anymore," I mumbled under my breath, pushing my chest into his touch.

He shook his head, and withdrew his hand. "This is wrong, not to mention that I am your boss."

I stepped back, only for my leg to get tangled by the rug. He caught me immediately, snaking his arm around my waist and pulled me flush against his chest, knocking the air out of me in a good way. The first thing I felt was his hardness poking against my stomach, and goodness did it send heat between my legs instantly.

"If this is wrong," I whispered, "then why are you hard, Mr Voss?"