The Rival's Offer

I stumbled out of Damian’s penthouse like a ghost, the echo of my heels tapping on cold marble was the only sound I could hear.

My chest felt hollow, his words echoing in my head:

“You’re not keeping it.”

…“You're fired.”

Just like that, he ended it. Fired me. Tossed me aside like I meant nothing.

I drove without thinking, wiping tears as the city passed, and somehow ended up at Velluto; one of LA’s most exclusive bars. I still had access thanks to him. Maybe I was punishing myself. I didn’t care.

The valet took my car, and I walked in, dressed in a short, black dress that screamed "fμck you, Damian."

Heads turned, both guys and girls. Their eyes raked over me, drooling like always. But I ignored them all and headed straight for the bar.

“Vodka soda,” I said, sitting down. My voice was flat.

Then I froze.

Mia’s voice hit me. “No alcohol, Lila. Not while you're pregnant.”

I bit my lip, glancing down at my stomach. It was still so small. Still real.

The bartender, a hot guy with tattoos peeking from his rolled up sleeves, blinked. He clearly recognized me.

“Miss Carter. Good to see you." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, uh, vodka soda, right?” He poured it quickly before I could stop him.

I didn’t touch it.

Before I could order for something else, a familiar voice slid in behind me. It was low and smooth. "You look like hell, Lila. Who are you running from?"

I stiffened. That voice… smooth and familiar. I turned slowly, and there he was:

Wesley Kane.

He stood there in casual jeans and a fitted black shirt; he wasn't in his usual sharp suit. His silver curls caught the dim light.

"What's up, Lila," He sat next to me and our legs brushed. "You haven't been to the bar alone in ages, have you?"

He added almost immediately, "You've added a little flesh though. Forget the crap I said earlier... You look great."

His clean, spicy cologne wrapped around me.

"Mr. Kane," I said, suddenly blushing like a high school girl.

I looked away, my hands wrapped around the glass I wouldn't touch.

"Wesley," he corrected, giving me a look. "Drop the formality."

Just then, the bartender came over, a bottle of single malt in his hand. "Good evening, Mr. Kane," he greeted Wesley politely. "Should I pour you your usual, sir?"

Wesley waved him off, his gaze fixed on my face. Softly, he said, "You look like someone just crushed your world, Lila. Are you okay? Did something happen?"

I couldn't speak. I stared at the glass, fighting tears. One escaped anyway, then another.

Wesley noticed. He leaned in gently. "Hey. What happened?"

I didn't want to say it out loud, but the words fell out. "He broke up with me. Fired me. Said I was just sex."

Wesley's jaw tightened. "That piece of shit?" he muttered.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He reached for my hand, it was firm but comforting. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

I let him guide me through the crowd, and down a long, dim hallway to a private room.

As the door closed, memories hit me:

Damian. This same bar, this same kind of room, six months ago. My body tensed and my heart pounded hard.

“Lila?” Wesley’s voice brought me back.

I blinked, my breath was shaky. He led me to a velvet couch, and I sat, my dress riding up my thighs.

“Sorry. Just... memories.” I said as I adjusted my dress.

He sat close, his knee brushing mine. “Tell me the rest.” He searched my face.

I hesitated. Then whispered, “I’m pregnant. A month along. I told Damian and… he told me to get rid of it. Then he fired me.”

Wesley's eyes widened, and his gaze dropped to my belly. “You’re pregnant? And he told you to abort it?”

I nodded, wiping fresh tears.

"He said it's not part of his life. That I'm nothing to him."

“Unbelievable,” he said. His voice was tight with anger.

"I thought he loved me, Wesley. I thought I was special. But he was just... using me."

“You don’t deserve that. I told you... you can work for me. I’ll make sure you’re safe. Both of you. He can't force you to do anything.”

His hand rested on my knee, it felt warm and steady. “I mean it, Lila. You’re not alone.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’ll think about it.”

He stood up, brushing my shoulder. “I’ll be back. I’m gonna make a call and get you some juice. No alcohol for baby, right?” He gave me a small smile and walked out.

I sat there, staring at the untouched drink. My hand went to my belly again.

Why couldn’t this be Wesley’s baby instead of Damian’s? Wesley actually cared. Damian just wanted me silent and gone.

I should have taken the damn pills like he told me to. He never used protection, just trusted I would handle it. But I didn’t. And now... I’m here. Pregnant. Alone. And wrecked.

---

Six months ago, when Damian and I first started… whatever we were, he brought me to a private room just like this at Velluto.

The air smelled like his cologne; it was thick and intoxicating. His eyes had that hungry and dangerous look. I was new to all of it. Still nervous, even after he had already fμcked me senseless in almost every way. But never in a place like this.

He locked the door behind us, loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and leaned back with that smug grin.

“Lila,” he said, his voice was low and teasing, “you keep looking at me like you’re starving.”

I was flushed, practically shaking. And I felt like I was standing completely naked in front of him.

“I... I don’t know what you mean,” I said, my voice was all over the place.

He stepped in close, brushed my arm, then slid his hand to my waist and pulled me in. “Don’t play shy,” he whispered in my ear, his hard shaft pressed against me. “You want me. I can feel it.”

I swallowed hard. “Damian, I… I’ve never… not there. I think anal is gross. It’ll hurt. I don’t want that. Just... just keep doing what we’ve been doing.”

He raised a brow, he looked amused. Then he lifted my chin. “Damn, that’s hot,” he growled. “Of course I know you haven’t. I felt how tight that h0le is.”

Then he stepped back, dropped his pants, and there it was... his huge and hard length. Still, after all this time, I haven’t gotten used to the size of his shaft.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, practically glued to the spot.

“Touch it,” he said. “Stroke it. Come on.”

“I don’t know how,” I admitted, my cheeks burned. “I’ve never done it before. You know that, Damian…”

He took my hand and guided it to him. His skin was hot, but firm. I flinched, but he didn’t let go.

“Just like this,” he said, showing me.

His shaft twitched, and I felt myself getting wetter even through the nerves.

“Damian… I’m scared,” I whispered.

He smirked and slipped a hand under my skirt, and then over my soaked panties. “Scared, huh?” he teased, brushing my cl!t, making me moan. “Your pu$$y isn’t.”

Then he moved my panties aside and slid his fingers inside me. I gasped, my body was already shaking.

He laid me down on the couch, my skirt bunched up. “I’m gonna f*ck you,” he said, his shaft brushing my entrance. “It’s gonna hurt a little. But you’ll love it.”

“Please… be gentle,” I begged.

He chuckled, and I could feel the tip of his thick length pushing in. “I told you, Lila... I don’t do gentle,” he said. “But I’ll make you want it.”

He pushed in slowly. It stung. And I cried out, clinging to him.

“Shhh…” he murmured, gripping my hips. “Take it.”

It hurt… but then I realized; he wasn’t in my ass. He had just made me think he would.

The bastard!

“Damian,” I moaned, rocking with him.

He thrust into me hard and deep. The couch creaked, my moans filled the room, and I came hard, trembling and screaming his name.

Then he pulled out, his length was shiny and pulsing. He leaned back and yanked me down. “Suck it,” he said, his voice was firm, and his hand was in my hair.

I froze. I had never done that. Never even thought about it. It looked messy and... intense.

“I… I don’t know how,” I said nervously. “It’s dirty.”

He laughed softly, dragging the tip across my lips. “It’s you, Lila. Your pμ$sy is all over it. Taste yourself.”

I flinched. My stomach twisted. “Open your mouth,” he ordered.

And I obeyed, my lips parted. I barely touched him with my tongue and already gagged.

“I can’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “It’s…”

“You can,” he said, guiding me gently. “Just suck.”

I tried again awkwardly and clumsily. My tongue didn’t know what to do. But he moaned, his hand tightening in my hair as I went deeper.

“Fμ¢k, that’s it,” he growled, his shaft hitting my throat.

I gagged again, but kept going, driven by his sounds, by something dark inside me. And then he came, hot and thick inside my mouth, and I swallowed without thinking. My face burned.

Then he pulled me up and bent me over the couch.

“One more thing,” he said, his voice was dark.

He spread me wide and his tip brushed my ass. I froze.

“No, Damian,” I whispered, panicking. “Not there. Please.”

He didn’t push in… he just teased, then he started laughing darkly. “You’ll love it eventually. Not tonight. But soon.”

My body was shaking. I was torn between fear and something I didn’t want to name.

“No… it’s scary.”

He kissed my neck, shifted his length back to my wetness, and thrust deep. “Soon,” he repeated, pounding into me, my body betraying every protest.

That night changed everything.

I used to think sex like that only happened in p0rn. Now I craved it: his control, his chaos, all of him. He had taken me in every place he wanted. No shame. No limits.

But now, sitting in another private room, this time with Wesley, my heart broken, and a baby I didn’t ask for inside me… I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

Just another thing Damian had broken.

---

I sat alone, my hands were on my belly, trying to breathe through the tight ache in my chest. My cheeks were still damp from crying. Wesley’s offer felt like a lifeline… but those creepy texts I received on my way here?:

"You’re making this worse. Go back to New Orleans."

My skin crawled.

“Is this Damian? Or someone worse?”

I didn’t know.

But I knew one thing: he didn’t own me anymore. I would fight for myself. For this baby.

The door slid open. Wesley stepped in, holding a glass of orange juice.

"Here," he said gently as he sat beside me. “No alcohol for you,” 

I took it, my hands were shaking. “Thanks,” I whispered.

His eyes were soft and his smile was calm… but that fear sat heavy in my chest. Damian’s voice echoed in my head: "You’ll regret that."

And somewhere, out there, someone was watching.

My phone buzzed.

And when I looked down at the screen... it was another text from that unknown number:

"He’s not your savior. Be careful, Lila."

I looked toward the window, my heart was pounding hard.

“What the fμ¢k…” I muttered, gripping the phone tight.