I'd Rather Die A Virgin

Mirena woke to a dull throbbing in her temples. She blinked slowly, her vision hazy as she scanned the unfamiliar room.

As her surroundings sharpened into focus—the elegant furnishings, the subtle scent of sandalwood, and something distinctly masculine—she bolted upright.

This wasn't her room. Nor any place she recognized.

Before she could gather her thoughts, the sound of running water cut off. The bathroom door swung open.

Out stepped Alexander, wearing nothing but a loosely tied robe, water still glistening along the lines of his chest.

For a moment, Mirena froze. Then, the memories of the previous day washed over her—the humiliation, the rain, his voice.

She was about to curse herself for showing such weakness in front of the one man who least deserved to see it, when instinct took over. Her eyes darted across the sheets, checking her clothes, searching for any sign she'd been touched.

Finding herself fully dressed, she released a quiet breath.

A low, knowing chuckle cut through the silence.

"Relax," Alexander drawled, running a towel through his damp hair. "In your current state, you're hardly in any condition to tempt a man."

Mirena's eyes narrowed. What Alexander didn't know was that throughout her five-year marriage, her mother-in-law and sister-in-law had constantly taunted her for lacking the charm to keep George's attention. Having her appeal questioned had become a raw nerve—and Xander was now dancing all over it.

She kicked off the covers and strode toward him without a word.

Alexander turned, expecting a sharp retort. What he didn't expect was for her to reach out without hesitation and tug hard on the tie of his robe.

In an instant, the fabric fell open, pooling at his feet. Mirena tilted her head, letting her gaze travel over him with deliberate, unhurried scrutiny.

"Hmm," she hummed, feigning disappointment. "Seems we're in the same boat. From the look of things, you don't have much to tempt a woman either, do you?"

A vein throbbed at Alexander's temple. His composure shattered. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, pinning her firmly but not painfully to the bed.

"Careful, Mirena," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't forget who picked you up off the streets yesterday when you were nothing but a drenched, helpless puppy."

His face was dangerously close, the fury in his eyes unmistakable—yet Mirena didn't flinch. She met his gaze steadily, her breath even, her composure unshaken.

"Is that so?" She arched a brow, a sly curve playing on her lips. "I don't recall asking for your help. Wasn't it your own choice to bring me here?"

For a moment, Alexander looked as if he wanted to strangle the ungrateful woman. "If it weren't for me, you'd be lying dead in some alley."

"And?" She tilted her head. "What do you want, then? For me to repay you with my body?"

He stiffened, then released her abruptly as if she'd burned him. "Did five years as a housewife rot your brain? A stubborn woman like you holds no appeal. Even if you were the last woman on earth, I'd rather die than share a bed with you."

Mirena's smile only sweetened. "Are you sure?" In one fluid move, she caught his wrist as he tried to turn away. In the next heartbeat, their positions reversed—she was above him, pinning him down.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled.

"You'd rather die than sleep with me," she murmured, leaning in until her lips hovered just a breath from his. Her gaze, however, remained cool and clear. Alexander clenched his fists, fighting to steady the sudden wild rhythm in his chest.

She held him there, suspended in tension, watching him closely. Just as he began to sway toward her, she pulled away.

"Not bad," she remarked, her tone regaining its familiar pride as she released him. "It seems you do have some self-control. And just so we're clear—the feeling is entirely mutual. So it's good to know I'm perfectly safe around you."

Without looking back to see the storm on his face, she slid off the bed and walked calmly toward the bathroom. As she went, she let her dress slip carelessly from her shoulders and pool on the floor. Now that she had confirmed his lack of interest, she felt secure in her own skin.

As longtime rivals, they knew each other too well to ever cross that line.

The moment she stepped into the bathroom, a loud crash echoed behind her—the bedroom door slamming shut with enough force to shake the walls.

Mirena refused to let that bother her. What she needed now was the solace of a hot bath.

Half an hour later, she emerged from the steam, the faint, lingering scent of Alexander's cologne still hanging in the air. As she faced her reflection in the mirror, a memory surfaced—sharp and unbidden.

Five years ago, just before her wedding to George, she had made a wager with Alexander. If she could make George fall in love with her within five years, she would win thirty percent of Nexus Global—the crown jewel of New York's investment scene, and one of Alexander's most prized companies. If she lost, she would owe him thirty percent of Octa Investments, the firm she had built from nothing.

Like every challenge before it, Mirena had thrown herself into the bet, determined not to lose.

But now, with a quiet sigh of defeat, she picked up her phone and initiated the transfer.

She had lost to Alexander. Again.

The truth left a bitter taste in her mouth. She clicked her tongue, studying her own face in the glass. As much as she hated to admit it, the woman staring back was no longer the one people once respected without question. Years of playing the subdued housewife, the placeholder, had dulled her edges—had made her someone she barely recognized.

But that chapter was over. No more clipping her own wings for a family that didn't value her, a husband who didn't see her worth.

It was time to reclaim the throne she'd left behind.

With renewed resolve flashing in her eyes, she dressed quickly and threw one of Alexander's long coats over her shoulders.

Then she strode out of the room, ignoring the stunned stares of the household staff as an unfamiliar woman emerged confidently from their master's private suite.

Once outside, she dialed George's number and pressed the phone to her ear.

He picked up on the fifth ring. "Mirena, do you have any idea how many times I've—"

She cut him off cleanly, her tone icy and controlled. "You want a divorce, don't you? Then meet me at the Hills. Let's settle this now."