30

Chapter 30

Darcy’s POV

I didn’t expect last night to happen. I didn’t plan it. But the moment she looked at me that way, her eyes full of confusion and fire—I lost the little control I had left.

And God, it was good.

It wasn’t like the other nights I’ve had with women who only wanted to be seen beside me, who moaned my name like a trophy. No, this one was different. She felt real. Tight.

I enjoyed her. Truly enjoyed her. There was an authenticity to her, a tight, sweet friction that was utterly unlike the polished, performative women of my world. She wasn’t just another body; she was a revelation

She stirred something in me I thought was long dead — a hunger deeper than desire, something I couldn’t name.

But I can’t let it grow.

As I lay down on the bed, staring at the lights on the ceiling as the morning sun filled the room. I can smell her scent — soft vanilla and the faint trace of last night.

I turned to look at her.

She’s lying in bed, covered only by a few sheets. Then her hair was spread out and tangled across the pillow, she was in deep sleep.

Her lips are slightly open as she breathes softly in her sleep.

She looked beautiful.

Too beautiful.

And that was a problem.

Because she wasn’t just any woman. She was my daughter’s nanny.

The woman sleeping in my bed wasn’t supposed to be there. Not in my arms, and definitely not moaning under my skin.

My jaw tightened as I pushed away the thoughts trying to crawl back in. This can’t happen again. I won’t let it.

I ran a hand through my hair, sitting up. This was the second time I'd fucked her. Lord help me because if she finds out I don't know how I would handle that.

I still felt her hands on my skin, even though I want to forget.

“This is wrong,” I said under my breath.

She isn’t in my class. She isn’t someone my family would accept.

A nanny. A stripper. An ex-con.

My parents would be horrified. And my company? The board members who respected my ruthless precision? They would see a man who lost his head for a pretty face from the wrong side of the tracks. I had elite women, daughters of senators and oil magnates, practically throwing themselves at me, their affections a transparent bid for my name and my fortune. And here I was, having stooped so low as to fuck the help. The shame of it was a hot, corrosive acid in my throat.

This feeling, this… weakness, had to end. Now.

I looked at her again before stepping out of bed. As she turned, a soft sigh came out of her lips. The lips I still want to kiss. I almost pause. But I forced myself to move.

I dressed quickly — white shirt, black suit, tie. My usual armor.

For a second, I wished I could take back the hands of time, before last night, before I made this mistake.

Too late.

When I turned around, she was still asleep. Her bare shoulder looked like temptation pulling me back when I peeked.

I stood there, paused for a second. Waiting for her so I could tell her the words in my head which were cruel, but they needed to be said.

She needs to know this means nothing.

She needs to believe it.

Because if she doesn’t, I might start to.

Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through me. I couldn't face her. I couldn't see the softness in her eyes, the memory of the night we’d shared. It would undo me. I had to re-establish the distance. I had to make her see it was nothing. A mistake.

My hand went to my wallet, moving on pure, gut-wrenching instinct. I pulled out a thick stack of bills. It was crude. It was vile. It was the only language my world understood, and the only shield I had left.

Money always makes things simple.

I left it on the nightstand — cold, clear, transactional. A reminder of what last night really was.

When I turned to leave, she stirred. Her eyes opened slowly.

She looked at me, half-asleep, unaware and innocent.

Then she saw the money.

Her expression changed, confusion first, then pain. I could almost hear the crack in her chest.

I forced my voice to sound cold. “Last night was a mistake.”

My words came out harsh. I felt it heaviness but I didn’t take it back.

She tried to speak, but she lacked words.

So,I left.

Her eyes were on my back, questioning and cursing.

But I didn't care, I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

By the time I moved downstairs, entered the car, I’d already buried the feeling deep down where no one could find it.

Work. Duty. Discipline. That’s what I know. That’s what saved me most of the time when I had affairs with these women.

"Time was better this way." I mumbled before the car drove off.

---

Adrian’s POV

My eyes fluttered open, I didn’t realize that it was past ten already. The room was still very quiet, filled with the faint smell of sex. For a second, I smiled.

Then I saw the money.

A thick pile of cash sitting on the nightstand like a slap to the face.

My smile disappeared.

He stood by the door, already dressed to head out, probably to his office but his eyes weren’t soft,they were cold and unreadable.

“Last night was a mistake,” he said.

Just like that. A mistake.

The words cut in sharper than a blade, than any insult I'd ever received. Even at the stripper club when you insult a lady's body you'd have the bouncers to deal with. This hurts deeply.

He didn’t even hesitate.

I looked at the money again, then at him.

So that is what it was to him. I was worth just that money he dropped there. To him I was... A transaction. A favor. Something he could pay for and forget. just like he said earlier before he said he didn't mean it.

He lied. Just to have me.

I wanted to scream, to ask him why he’d touched me that way like I was precious while he knew I meant nothing. Why did he kiss me like he longed for it... like I was the only woman in his world?

But I didn’t because he’d already decided what I was.

A mistake.

When he walked out, I felt the room get empty just like my heart. I sat there for a while, looking at the money until it got blurred through my tears.

I didn’t touch it.

I got up, picked my clothes, then walked to my own room, my legs were shaking. I couldn't believe it.

The moment I stepped under the shower, the tears came. Then with rage burning inside me I scrubbed my skin, harder and harder, like I could wash him away.

But I couldn’t.

His touch was everywhere on my neck, my waist, my thighs. The thoughts of his hands haunted me. I bent myself on the cold tile, shaking.

Why did I allow myself to be vulnerable?

He made me feel valued, visible like I wasn’t just some broken person trying to fix the piece of my life back together.

And I fell for it.

So foolish.

By the time I was done in the shower. I stepped out wrapped myself in a white towel and sat on the edge of the bed. My eyes were red and my chest ached.

I thought about quitting. About packing my things and leaving this house forever.

But then I remembered Pink, his daughter.

She needed me. She was innocent in all this. She had no idea what happened between her father and me. I couldn’t just leave her.

So I decided I’d stay. But only until I found another job.

I’d pretend nothing happened. I’d act like last night never happened.

Even if I’m going through pains.

Later that afternoon, my phone rang.

A message. From him.

Which reads: “Be ready by 5. We’re taking Pink shopping for school.”

That was it. No apology. No explanation. Nothing. Just an order.

Like I was his employee again or worse, something he owned. As I picked the phone with my shaky hands,I just stared at the message.

With one word, Darcy could destroy me and still sleep well at night.

The anger started to replace the sharp pains.

I got dressed in silence, ignoring the pain I felt. When I looked in the mirror, I saw someone harder. Colder.

If he wanted distance, he’d get it.

If he wanted me to act like last night was nothing, I’d make sure he believed it.

But inside, something was changing.

A quiet promise forming beneath the hurt.

This would be the last time a man used me.

The last time I let someone touch me only to break me after.

I’d been through too much to fall again not for him, not for anyone.

He could keep his power, his money, his perfect life.

I’d keep my dignity.

That evening as he came back and knocked on the door, I opened it.

I acted calm.

He looked the same — collected, confident, like the morning never happened.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes flickered, just for a moment. Maybe he felt the shift too.

We didn’t speak on the way to the car. Pink ran ahead, excited about shopping for her new school supplies, her laughter echoing through the hall.

He smiled at her, the same man who’d looked at me this morning like I was nothing.

And that hurt most of all.

Because he could love his daughter so easily, but not me. Not even a little.

As we drove, I looked out the window, many thoughts raced in my mind.

This would be the last time. The last time a man would use me for sex and make me feel like garbage. The last time I would ever let a man make me feel small, or poor, or less than. Never again. Darcy Rodrigo just enjoyed the last privilege he would ever get from me. He would get my professional care for his daughter, and nothing more. Ever.

And as the car moved through the night, I whispered the words to myself like a promise.

This time, I meant them.

Never again.