A Day of Reckoning

Allison's POV

“You smell like roses,” he moaned—a low, croaky sound of pure pleasure escaped his lips. 

With his face buried down, his nose snuggling my neck, a soft, deliberate motion that caused goosebumps all over my skin, I shiver. 

A wild scent of roses, he realized—intoxicated him. 

I felt his hand having a possessive sweep across my body, as it slid down my back. 

His fingers, a fiery touch that slowly mapped every curve of my body before coming to rest at my hips. 

His lips find their way to my neck, as he devours the skin of my neck with his mouth—a searing line of kisses that travels to the swell of my chest. 

His hands continuously took possession—kneading my breast. I arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping my lips, a sound of surrender.. 

In the suffocating dark, I couldn't see his face, only the cold cloth of a concealed mask. But my heart screamed a name in silent, desperate hope: Luke

The thrilling terror of a moment stolen—a moment that could cost us both everything—made my skin prickle with a horrific excitement.

His lips crashed against mine—his tongue joined the dance. It was a good damn French kiss. 

The air in the room grew thick with our tangled breaths— a scent of their reckless desire. 

I was surrendering, again, to the moment, to the man, to the beautiful, dangerous fall.

I wanted to relive every detail of their last encounter—The Citadel: the kisses, the touches, the raw and gentle intimacy. 

My fingers found the edge of his mask—with a tremor of anticipation, I tugged it. 

With each thrust inside me, I was seeking a truth only his eyes could reveal. 

It wasn't just about pleasure; it was a desperate quest to connect my body to the desired man I was falling for. 

"Michael!" The name came out of my lips with a scream, yanking me from my deep sleep.

My body went cold with a numbing shock—The beautiful dream became an upsetting nightmare. 

I instantly became wide awake, back to reality, although the disgust lingered. “It was just a bad dream,” I muttered. 

Why would I have such dreams? I definitely wasn't thinking about him before going to bed. 

He was even a man I didn't find attractive, no matter how handsome he looked.

The early morning sun had just entered my room a little, when I heard a knock at the door. 

"Breakfast is set," a servant announced from the other end of the door.  

I remained motionless, pressing deeper into my mattress, not ready to face the day. 

The thought of seeing Hayley and father's demanding eyes was enough reason to pretend the day—and all its horrors—didn't exist.

I dragged myself out of bed—filling a pang that had replaced my energy.

The dream clung to my thoughts like a sticky, nauseating film. 

Scene by scene, it replayed in my mind, each moment of stolen passion now an act of disgust that left me feeling cheapened and stained.

I sat up with a tremor running through me as I tried to knock over the memory of the dream. 

“It was just a dream,” I whispered.  

I took a look at the clock on the nightstand, it was 9:10am.

I made my way to the windows afterwards, opening the curtains—with the morning air rushing into the room. The rays of sunlight shot itself across the room, lighting everywhere up.

Beyond my window, I could hear birds making a chirping sound mixed with the softened voices of the servants around the garden. 

I stepped into the shower for a bath. I massaged my hair and, as if I was trying to wash away the memory of the dream from my brain. 

Minutes later, wrapped in a towel, I'm standing before my closet with a complex task of picking an outfit.

I settled on a sundress—simple, perfect, took the dress from its hanger 

Then for the final touch, I reached into my jewelry box. 

I picked a thin beautiful silver necklace, a necklace that reminded me of my days of being a doctor.

I was dressed and set to meet the family downstairs at the dining hall.

At the sight of familiar faces—Father, my mother Alice, and my half-sister, Hayley. 

My stomach twisted..

I still haven't spoken to Hayley about what I saw the other day—Michael leaving her room as they had a romantic hug, a silent betrayal that now poisoned the air between us. 

The dining table was a feast, it was an attestation of my family's wealth.

Although all I had an appetite for was just a few slices of bread and a cup of tea.

But in the Wenston house, tradition demanded that everyone sat together for breakfast. 

It was a forced ritual meant to promote family bonding.

We’ve had just a little to eat when a servant rushed in with a phone, his face pale with alarm. 

He mumbled, "It's Finn Shelby," as if speaking the devil's name, and handed the phone to my father.

That name gave me instant goosebumps. Why was this the devil himself calling at daybreak? Could he be pushing for the wedding so soon, even though only a week had passed from our agreed-upon three-week buffer? It seemed too cruel to be true.

A few seconds into his conversation with Finn, the happy look on my father’s had already disappeared.

His expression had a mix of shock that he couldn't hide.

After he dropped the phone, his voice, now strained, cut through the silence. 

He announced, “Michael and his mother, Esme—Gerald’s sister, had been abducted by a rival gang, The Green Snakes.”

He said the rival gang was demanding $300 million, three times the amount the Shelby family had cheated them out of years ago.

Something inside me twisted, a strange tug in my chest. 

Could it be a sign, the reason I had that disturbing dream about Michael? 

A part of me, I didn't know existed hoped he was found safe.

“Call Luke!!!...,” My Father screamed..