03

Unlike the lady, he had some pants on. Black. With a black long sleeve that had all its buttons open and his chest on full display.

His hands moved smoothly as they fixed his belt, appearing too unbothered for someone that had a cuffed naked lady writhing in bed.

The whole image spun in my head like a film reel I couldn’t shut off. He'd been making out with her, in the 'Marshall-way', like people called it.

Before now, it was only a rumour; the stories about Marshall being a crazy dom in the bedroom. I never thought I'd witness it. Hell, it wasn't even the hundredth craziest thing I thought would happen to me in my lifetime.

"Bitch, get the fuck out and close the door!" The lady in bed still yelled.

I managed a look at her. She was fuming, but there was nothing she could do. 'Nothing.'

I looked at Marshall who was fixing his buttons now. The look in his eyes confirmed everything I'd thought about him; he was a sadist, through and through.

My legs finally remembered their purpose. I grabbed the wall for balance and stumbled out of the room, every step fueled by disbelief and a rising wave of nausea.

I took off my heels, dumped them on the floor before proceeding to one of the bathrooms upstairs.

The image played in my mind on a loop. Cuffs. Hands and legs spread. The dom. Shit, I never should've come to the pool house.

Each time I thought of it, a shudder ran through my bones. One I hated.

I finished from the bathroom and made my way downstairs. It was time to go home. I'd had enough for one night.

My plans encountered a bump when I found the devil in black leaning against the wall beside the 'forbidden room,' his hands casually tucked into his pockets like sin personified. He didn't finish his buttons, leaving enough to reveal his 'ugly' chest. That is, if we were calling cute tattooed chest ugly now.

Being away from the room gave my mind enough clarity to 'really' think of who he was. Marshall Domayne. The one I swore I'd never forgive.

He stared right into my eyes with those ocean blue eyes that made everyone admire the asshole in high school all the time. I might hate him, but his eyes were magical. One look at him and you'd want to do anything he asked.

I straightened my spine, hardened my gaze as much as I could, forcing my own eyes to meet his. If this was a staring contest, I’d die before blinking first.

He didn’t even try. He just stood there, calm, collected and entirely in control. And it made me furious, because while I looked like I was fighting a war, he looked like he’d already won.

I picked up my shoes and walked past him.

"You're twenty-two. One would think you'd have learned how to knock by now."

I froze mid-step. His words hit like a cold draft, crawling down my spine.

I gathered my emotions, encouraged myself that I could handle him, then turned around with a straight face.

"Maybe if you weren't having dirty sex in the pool house while your parents were celebrating their anniversary out there, I wouldn't have seen that."

Good job, Solayne. I didn't stutter or slur.

It was my first time seeing him in so long. The last thing I wanted was to act drunk and give him the opportunity to fully roast me alive.

"Dirty sex?" He raised a perfectly curved brow. "What about it is dirty? The fact that it isn't your usual vanilla?"

I shook my head, feigning irritation. "You're disgusting. Fix your attitude, Marshall."

I turned around to continue walking.

"Why do you hate me so much?" He asked and I stopped again. "I could count the number of times I've ever spoken to you. We never dated. I’ve never touched you. So, what about me ruffles your feathers?"

I kept my back to him, but I could see it coming. I knew that line was dropping...

"Don't tell me it still has to do with—"

"Don't you dare, Marshall!" I whipped around, pointing an angry finger at him. His words felt like salt licking an old wound.

He chuckled. He was too calm. Too unbothered. And that pissed the hell out of me.

"It's okay to feel that way, Solayne. I mean, you're not even the hundredth lady who's caught feelings for me."

My lips parted; my face folded in shock.

"Caught feelings for you?" I scoffed. "Marshall, you've never meant a single thing to me." I walked closer to him. "I don’t even get what the hype is about. To me, you’re as average as any other guy on the street. You could be the last man on earth, and I still wouldn’t shake your damn hand."

"Are you sure?" He cocked his head, cold amusement ghosting his eyes.# "Because that wasn't what happened nine years ago."

Raw rage passed through me. God, the son of a bitch.

"Fuck you, Marshall." I stepped even closer. "That day was a mistake. The biggest mistake of my life, to be precise. You know the circumstances around it. So stop acting like it was something."

My chest heaved with each word, my pulse roaring in my ears. I didn’t even know anger could make a person this breathless.

The asshole. Here I was, panting with anger while he stood there like some vogue model,# still leaning against the wall, his hands still tucked into his pockets.

His eyes moved to my lips, lingering for three seconds before they came back up to my eyes.

"Careful, Solayne. You get any closer, and I might start to think you’re still interested."

That was when I realized; I'd moved too close to him.

I stepped back at once, my ankle twisting a little. That hurt but I didn't let him see it.

"Goodbye, Marshall. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out from. NC was definitely better without you in it," I told him and finally left, hoping I'd managed to hurt him as much as he did.

But who was I kidding? Marshall Domayne was called the 'Monster' for a reason. He didn't feel things that made normal people weak.

I returned to my table out there and drank some more. I'd made up my mind not to have anymore, but all thanks to the son of a bitch in there.

I truly hope he was simply here for a job and leaves as soon as possible. God, why was tonight which I thought would be the best night of my life turning out to be the very worst?

......

I woke up in bed.

Which was confusing because I didn't remember getting home. The last thing I recalled was resting my head on the bar counter, whispering sweet nothings to a bottle of whiskey.

Fuck, I really passed out there. So, either I’d teleported, or Leo had dragged my sorry self home.

My head felt heavy as I pressed a palm to my forehead. Ugh, I needed a cold shower and a gallon of milk.

I was about to swing my legs off the bed when a soft glow caught my attention—the light of my phone buzzing silently on the nightstand. I had a call, but it wasn't ringing out. How was my phone on silent?

Before I could reach it, the call ended. What I saw next raised my worry to level two.

I had dozens of missed calls and hundreds of messages. From too many people. My parents being among was what raised my alarms.

What in God’s blurry hangover was going on? Was the world ending and I had no idea?

I glanced at my window. There was sunlight. Out there looked normal. So, what was happening?