The last thing that feisty Andra, a tomboy, expects from her father is to be forced into a marriage with Dominic, an attractive and resilient stranger who becomes a threat to her wayward lifestyle with his formidable disposition.
View MoreOver the night sky, luminaries of nature mirrored the city lights of Auckland city. The city was alive with a flurry of nightlife among the inhabitants.
Somewhere in a neighborhood occupied by the affluent, a young woman was getting ready to join the flurry of activities in the city. Andra Anderson, in her cozy bedroom, admired her looks before the large mirror as she prepared for her Friday night out. Lively music blared from the speakers inside the bedroom. She danced to the music in high spirits as she went about her preparations.
High-end boyish sneakers encased her feet. Her slim body was clad in blue baggy jeans and an oversized t-shirt. Her long center-parted hair was graced with a white face cap worn backward. Her attractive oval-shaped face was lightly made up with dark eyeshadow, giving her a smokey-eyed look.
As Andra danced in anticipation of the fun she was hoping to have, the door opened as another young woman walked inside. She was wearing a pair of pajamas with a sleeping satin bonnet covering her hair. Her gaze on Andra was of displeasure.
“Hi, Molly.” Andra excitedly greeted the solemn-looking girl. “Did someone die, cousin?”
“Stop playing with me.” Molly chided. “You know very well that I am not happy about this outing of yours tonight.”
Andra rolled her eyes. “Oh, please.” She said.
“Andra, can’t you let this night be? Please?” Molly’s voice had changed to an imploring tone.
Andra stopped dancing. “You do not need to mother me.” She said gaily. “I am not you, miss indoor queen. So why not go to bed and relax like you always choose to do, instead of enjoying your life?” She pointed at the large bed to emphasize her point.
“Stubborn tomboy,” Molly mumbled as she ambled over to the bed, exhausted by Andra’s stubbornness.
“I heard that, Molly,” Andra said with hands akimbo as Molly flopped down on the bed and stared up at her. “I’m standing right here, so I heard you.”
“I know you heard that. You were meant to.”
Andra scoffed. “So why murmur?”
“To ascertain your level of consciousness.”
Andra was taken aback in an amused way. So chucked lightly. “I’m not drunk.” She clarified.
“Not yet, I know, judging by your seemingly intelligent argument.”
“Hey, stop with the big words, I’m the lawyer here.”
Molly let out a mocking laugh. “Lawyer on paper. A lawyer who will not go to law school and become certified.”
Andra laughed mockingly. “Keep talking. You’ll soon get tired.” She frowned, suddenly letting go of the laughter. “Anyway, your jibes can be sometimes annoying. But, seeing as the night is young and I am in a good mood, I won’t get bothered.”
“I know, right? But you do need my jibes sometimes.”
Andra rolled her eyes to indicate her indifference.
“Look, on a more serious note, the last time you went out, you know how angry your father was when he found out. And you promised that it won’t happen again. You even promised to stop with the tomboy outfits, didn’t you?”
“I did. So what?”
“Andra, there is no better time to stop than now.”
Andra laughed at her concern. “Oh, wow. Did you take my word for it? I cannot believe this.”
Molly stared at her incredulously and Andra shook her head in mock disappointment.
“Oh, Molly. You’ve known me long enough to see that I cannot do without a night of clubbing, partying, and drinking. Especially on Friday nights.”
Andra picked up the remote and stopped the music. She wanted to drive her point home and needed all the silence she could get in the air right now. “In as much as you were dumb enough to believe my words to my father, I’ll still educate you, Molly. You see, promises are meant to be broken. And as for my dress sense, this is how I have chosen to dress. My father cannot stop me. No one can.”
“Hmm. You will be getting into trouble, Andra. And you know it. Your father sounded like he would take drastic action if you mess up again.”
“All my father would do is yell and threaten to disown me as usual. There is nothing new.”
Andra chuckled and Molly shrugged a shoulder resignedly. “Do as you wish as always.” She said.
“Thank you,” Andra replied, unfazed. “Now, please try and be nice. Why not tell me how I look?”
“You look good in whatever you wear,” Molly answered reluctantly, but her voice was heavy with sincerity. “My cousin is a fine girl. The only thing is, I wish you’ll be getting the attention of genuine guys in there who will take you seriously, instead of fake guys who have seen an I-don’t-care girl they can just have fun with and disappear.”
“There are responsible men in the club, sis.” Andra refuted.
“Whatever. But let’s get one thing straight. I will not have your back this time if anything goes wrong.”
“Oh, come on. You always say that. But we both know that you always do.”
“You wish this time around.”
Andra’s smile was wide with self-assurance, indicating her disbelief. “Look, I have to go.” She said and carried her crossbody purse, hanging it over her shoulder. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” She teased Molly. “Music, dance, men of all kinds and me, drinking, dancing, having fun. Oh, Molly.”
Andra danced seductively before Molly who remained unimpressed.
“And all your motivation is what will get you in trouble with your father.” She remarked.
“Trouble does not end, my dear. And life is too short to live without fun. Make noise before you go down because let’s face it. Everyone will eventually go down.” She threw her head back and laughed.
“You are impossible,” Molly remarked, displeased.
“Thanks for the compliment,” Andra responded, flaunting some more dance moves.
Annoyed, Molly shooed her away. Laughing, Andra exited the room and shut the door behind her to embrace the night and whatever it held in store for her.
“Please, find it in your heart to forgive Mike,” Andra said gently. “I met him outside the house. He’s dying of guilt. He apologized to me. I promised him I’d talk to you. He’s been waiting for quite some time because you won’t talk to him, or take his calls, or respond to his messages. He’s torn.” At her words, Dominic felt the heat of his anger begin to melt. He remembered Mike’s earlier attempt to fix things. “I will try,” he said quietly. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” A pause passed between them. Then she smiled and whispered, “I love you, Dominic James.” His gaze softened. “I love you too, Andra Anderson.” “What now?” “We’ll see how the election turns out.” *** The next day, Duke Anderson issued a public statement. He had forgiven the young woman. He would not be pressing charges. The announcement sent ripples through the media. Praise poured in. His ratings climbed. People began to talk of his nobility. Forgiveness, they said, was a rare quality in leadership. Duke’s
Hours later, the entire country was abuzz. A breaking news clip with several variations was trending across every media platform. Phones chimed with notifications. Screens in salons, cafés, and offices glowed with the same footage.Jane stood outside the gate of her father’s house, surrounded by a sea of flashing cameras and muffled murmurs from reporters. Her face was bare, her eyes red-rimmed but determined. She held the mic tightly, as if drawing courage from its weight.“This is an apology to Duke Anderson and his family. This is also an apology to Prime Minister George James and his family. I am sorry for my utterances. It was a prank that went too far. I didn’t mean to say those things. I had no right. Everything was fake. I know nothing of a contract. I hope he can forgive me. I hope everyone can forgive me, but I am prepared to accept responsibility for my actions. I also apologize to my family for all this. Once again, I am sorry.”Her voice trembled as she spoke, but her wor
Jane seemed to be expecting Dominic’s call. She answered before the second ring.“Wow,” she said, her voice light, almost amused. “Everyone seems to want to talk to me. And by everyone, I mean your friend Mike—and of course, you.”“You believe this is a game, right?”“I’m not playing a game, Dominic.”“Then what is this?”“Love.”“Love?” he echoed, unable to believer her delusion.“You are worth fighting for. I can make this all go away with a public apology—but only if you promise to come back to me. We can start all over.”Dominic fell silent. She mistook the pause for hope, or worse, acceptance.“I knew you’d be reasonable,” she said gently. “You’ve always been reasonable, love.”He inhaled deeply, trying to calm the slow-burning anger rising in his chest. It helped—a little.“Jane.”“Yes, sweetheart?”“Where are you?”“At home,” she replied. “You have the address. I’m sure the separation didn’t make you forget.”“How could I?” Dominic said evenly.“Great.”“I’m on my way.”“To talk
Dominic shook hands with his associates inside his new boardroom, the walls still bare, wires exposed, and paint buckets tucked in corners. The long glass table gleamed beneath the overhead lights, even though the room around it still smelled faintly of plaster and fresh paint.He was glad the meeting was over. One by one, they filed out, murmuring quick goodbyes, their footsteps echoing down the hallway.Outside the boardroom, the entire building buzzed with motion—engineers in hard hats, designers measuring walls, delivery people hauling in furniture and cables. But Dominic’s mind wasn’t there.One of the engineers stayed behind to brief him on progress—logistics, electrical plans, a minor plumbing reroute—but his words washed over Dominic like static. Something was off. The silence at home, the unfinished conversation with Andra... it tugged at his thoughts."Sir, I assure you. Everything will be done well.""I don't fully trust you because you said this office was ready. Just move
It was nighttime, and Dominic lay in bed with Andra nestled in his arms. The room was bathed in the soft glow of amber light from a single wall sconce. Outside, the distant hum of the city filtered through the closed windows, muffled and unobtrusive. Inside, there was only quiet and warmth.She kissed him, and he responded—claiming her lips with intensity. There was something different in the way he held her now, something primal, protective. The brewing trouble had ignited a fierce need in him to keep her safe, close. He drew her in tighter, cherishing the feel of her body in his arms.Andra's breath hitched, growing feverish with need under his touch. He loved how she responded to him, but he paused and whispered against her lips, "I would prefer you heal."She nodded, eyes dark with longing, and he simply held her for a moment longer. Then, he leaned in, voice warm against her ear."I think I know how to help you heal faster."Intrigued, she looked up at him, but he didn’t say more.
The recording studio was quiet—almost sacred in its silence. Thick soundproof walls hugged the room, absorbing every stray noise, while the faint hum of high-end recording equipment gave the space a subtle, ambient buzz. LED strips glowed soft amber along the edges of the ceiling, casting a warm light over sleek consoles, monitors, and a glass-paneled vocal booth beyond.On the artist’s lounge side, a deep velvet couch sat tucked beneath acoustic foam panels shaped like art. The room smelled faintly of cinnamon and cedar—Molly’s signature tea steaming in a ceramic mug beside her.She sat cross-legged on the couch, effortlessly stylish in an oversized graphic tee and studio joggers. Her free hand rested on Andra’s, fingers gently curled around hers. Andra looked out through the soundproof glass toward the booth, then down at their interlaced hands.“He was gentle,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the mics might still be live. “It wasn’t what I expected. No pain, no we
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