Fated By One Night

The world around her was spinning. Colors bled into one another, and the pounding bass of the music warped into a distorted hum in her ears. Danielle Chloe Carter barely recognized her own body—it burned, a feverish heat spreading under her skin, consuming her from the inside out.

Her breath came in short, labored gasps as she reached out blindly, fingertips scraping against the cool marble walls of the dimly lit hallway. Her legs wobbled, refusing to obey her, and she staggered forward.

Something’s wrong.

She wasn’t drunk—no, this was different. The unnatural heat flooding her veins, the way her thoughts slipped from her grasp like water through her fingers… she had been drugged.

Panic surged through her muddled mind, but she had no time to process it. A door appeared before her, and she clutched the handle with trembling fingers, pushing it open in desperation.

Cold air rushed against her fevered skin, and she stumbled forward, crashing onto something solid—no, someone.

A deep, sharp inhale cut through the quiet of the darkened room. Rough hands caught her, steadying her against a broad chest that radiated warmth. The scent of whiskey and something distinctly masculine enveloped her senses, intoxicating in a way that made her knees weak.

The man groaned, his voice deep and hoarse. “What the hell…”

Danielle barely heard him. Her body arched instinctively, desperate for something—relief. The drug coursing through her veins clouded every rational thought, leaving only raw, aching need.

Her fingers fisted in the crisp fabric of his shirt. The sound of rustling clothes, the rasp of heavy breathing, the heat of skin against skin—it all blurred together.

For a moment, she thought she saw gray eyes glinting in the darkness, piercing and intense, watching her with something unreadable. But then the haze swallowed everything, and she fell into the abyss of sensation.

---

A sliver of golden light slipped through the curtains, warming her bare shoulder.

Danielle stirred, groaning softly as reality came crashing back.

Her head throbbed. Her limbs ached. And her body… her body remembered.

A slow, creeping dread curled in her stomach.

The bed beneath her was unfamiliar—soft, luxurious, and far too large. The scent of expensive cologne lingered in the sheets, mixing with the faint traces of last night’s forbidden intimacy.

She swallowed hard, suddenly hyperaware of the weight draped over her waist.

Her breath hitched.

A strong, muscular arm.

Her gaze followed the limb, trailing up the bare expanse of golden-toned skin, across the sharp ridges of his defined torso, until she found him.

The man lying beside her.

He was breathtaking.

Jet-black hair tousled messily from sleep, thick brows resting above striking features—high cheekbones, a sculpted jawline, and lips that looked sinfully dangerous. Even in his unconscious state, he exuded power, dominance.

And he was completely, utterly naked.

Danielle’s heart pounded against her ribs as flashes of last night flooded her mind. The way his hands had gripped her, the way his lips had traced fire along her skin…

No, no, no…

Panic surged through her, drowning out the lingering haze of pleasure.

She needed to leave. Now.

Carefully, she shifted beneath his heavy arm, holding her breath as she wriggled free. The moment she was loose, she slid out of bed, clutching the sheet to her chest as she scanned the room for her clothes.

She spotted them in a messy heap near the foot of the bed and hurried to retrieve them, slipping into her dress as quickly as possible.

Just go. Don’t think. Just leave.

The moment her fingers touched the door handle, a deep, commanding voice sliced through the silence.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Danielle froze.

A shiver ran down her spine, not from fear—but from the sheer authority laced in that voice.

She turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of him in the morning light. He was awake now, propped up on one elbow, tousled hair framing his chiseled face.

His eyes—stormy gray and piercing—locked onto her with an intensity that made her knees weak.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, princess.”

Her breath hitched. Princess?

Something about the way he said it sent an unfamiliar thrill down her spine, but she pushed it aside.

Danielle squared her shoulders, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I—I have to go.”

His expression was unreadable as he studied her, eyes dark and calculating.

A beat of silence passed. Then, to her shock, he smirked—slow, dangerous, and completely self-assured.

“Running away already?”

Her stomach twisted. He was looking at her like he knew something she didn’t. Like he recognized her.

But that was impossible.

I don’t even know his name.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she fumbled with the door handle. “This… this was a mistake,” she whispered.

He didn’t reply, but she felt his gaze on her as she yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway, the cool air hitting her flushed skin like a slap.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Danielle sucked in a shaky breath, pressing a hand against her racing heart.

She didn’t look back.

She didn’t notice the way he sat up fully, eyes narrowing at the closed door, fingers running through his dark hair in silent contemplation.

She didn’t hear the deep chuckle that rumbled from his chest.

And she certainly didn’t see the way his lips curled into an intrigued smirk.

"Interesting".