CHAPTER ONE

BEVERLY

Having a crush on an older, more capable man had completely ruined dating for me.

No guy my age ever measured up.

Not when I knew what it felt like to be cared for by someone who remembered every little thing about me. Someone who listened when I spoke. Someone whose voice alone could calm me down after the worst days of my life.

Still, I had tried.

Which was exactly how I ended up dating Dylan.

Or rather… about to break up with Dylan.

I planned to spend the night at his apartment, which was why I showed up unannounced with an overnight bag hanging from my shoulder and a bottle of cheap wine in my hand.

Thank God I did.

Otherwise, I never would have caught him in the act.

The moment I stepped into his apartment, something felt wrong.

There were heels near the couch.

Not mine.

A woman’s laugh echoed softly from somewhere deeper inside the apartment, followed by Dylan’s voice—low and flirtatious in a way I had never heard directed at me.

My stomach dropped.

Slowly, I walked toward the bedroom.

The door was half open.

And there he was.

Half naked.

A blonde girl straddling his lap while his hands gripped her waist.

For a second, my brain completely stopped functioning.

Then the wine bottle slipped from my fingers and shattered against the floor.

Both of them jumped apart.

“Beverly—”

“What the hell is this?” My voice cracked so sharply it barely sounded like mine.

The girl scrambled off the bed, grabbing her shirt.

Dylan stood up fast. “Wait, babe, calm down—”

“Calm down?” I laughed in disbelief. “You’re cheating on me!”

The girl looked deeply uncomfortable now, eyes darting between us.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You said you were single.”

I snapped my head toward Dylan.

He cursed under his breath. “Can you just—”

“No,” I cut him off. “No, actually, explain it. Explain why your tongue was halfway down her throat while I’m standing here looking stupid.”

The blonde grabbed her purse awkwardly. “I’m leaving.”

“Yeah,” I muttered bitterly. “Great idea.”

She practically ran out of the apartment.

The second the front door slammed shut, silence filled the room.

Heavy.

Ugly.

Dylan dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re overreacting.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I actually laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because I genuinely couldn’t believe the audacity standing in front of me.

“You cheated on me,” I said slowly, “and somehow I’m the problem?”

He rolled his eyes, already irritated like this conversation inconvenienced him.

“You wanna know the truth, Beverly?”

“No, actually, I’d love another lie.”

“You never wanted me.”

That caught me off guard.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he snapped. “Every time we tried to have sex, you acted stiff as hell. Like you were forcing yourself through it.”

Heat rushed to my face instantly.

Not embarrassment.

Anger.

“You barely even get turned on,” he continued harshly. “Do you know how frustrating that is? I’m your boyfriend, and every time I touched you, it felt like you were somewhere else.”

Because I was.

Not physically.

But mentally?

Always.

Some stupid part of me kept comparing every man to a voice on the phone. To impossible standards no real relationship could survive.

Still, hearing Dylan throw it in my face made humiliation burn hot beneath my skin.

“So that justifies cheating?” I shot back.

“I’m saying maybe if you actually acted like you wanted me—”

“Oh my God.” I stared at him like he was disgusting. “You seriously think this is my fault?”

He scoffed. “You can’t even relax around me.”

I stepped closer slowly, fury vibrating through every inch of me.

“No,” I said coldly. “The problem is that you have absolutely no idea how to touch a woman.”

His expression darkened.

“And judging by what I just walked in on,” I continued, “you probably think thrusting for five minutes counts as skill.”

“Beverly—”

“No, shut up. You wanna talk about me not getting aroused?” I laughed sharply. “Maybe learn how to actually turn a woman on instead of treating sex like a cardio workout.”

His jaw tightened.

Good.

“God,” I muttered, grabbing my bag from the floor. “The male ego is actually terrifying.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re bad in bed,” I fired back instantly.

That one hit him.

Hard.

His face darkened immediately. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”

I swung my bag onto my shoulder. “Trust me, Dylan, if that was your best effort, I didn’t miss out on anything.”

“Beverly—”

“Enjoy your fake orgasms and community vagina.”

His mouth fell open slightly.

I pointed toward the hallway. “And maybe next time you cheat on someone, don’t light candles everywhere like you’re filming a low-budget romance movie.”

Then I walked out.

My heart pounded violently the entire way down the stairs.

Not because I was sad.

Oddly enough, I wasn’t.

Just angry.

Frustrated.

Embarrassed that I had wasted months trying to force feelings that were never fully there.

I got to the parking and got into my car driving back home, probably to go raid the wine cabinet and enjoy a midnight karaoke. Definitely not crying over that cheap idiot.

When i got to the house,everywhere was already dark and quiet. The workers had definitely retired for the day, I told them I wasn't coming before but here I am.

The foyer lights were off, the faint silver glow from the moon spilled through the tall windows, stretching across the marble floors in pale streaks. The mansion felt too quiet at night. Too large. Like it swallowed sound whole.

I kicked off my heels with a sigh, rubbing my forehead as exhaustion finally started settling into my bones.

God, what a disaster of a night.

First heartbreak.

First cheating scandal.

And apparently my first official lesson in how painfully stupid modern men were.

I was already planning which bottle to steal from the wine cabinet when something shifted in the darkness.

I froze.

Someone was sitting on the couch.

My breath caught instantly.

The figure was barely visible, nothing more than a dark silhouette blending into the shadows of the living room. Long legs crossed lazily. One arm resting against the armrest.

Watching me.

A strange chill crawled up my spine.

How long had he been sitting there?

The moment he heard my uneven breathing, he stood.

Tall.

Very tall.

My pulse stumbled violently.

Every instinct screamed at me to ask questions, but for some reason, my body stayed rooted in place as he started walking toward me.

Slowly.

Controlled.

His footsteps echoed softly against the marble floor.

And God

There was something terrifying about how calm he moved.

No rush.

No hesitation.

Like this house belonged entirely to him.

Like everything inside it did too.

When he finally stopped in front of me, I still couldn’t properly see his face. The darkness hid it completely.

But his presence?

Impossible to ignore.

“You’re late.”

My breath hitched.

That voice.

Deep. Smooth. Familiar enough to make my chest tighten painfully.

No.

No way.

Before I could think properly, he turned slightly.

“Follow me.”

That was it.

No explanation.

No introduction.

Just a command spoken in the same calm tone that had haunted my dreams for years.

I stared at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“Come with me.”

Every logical thought in my head told me this was insane.

But my feet moved anyway.

Which honestly felt even more insane.

Funny how easily I followed him without another word.

We went up the stairs in complete silence until he stopped in front of a door, he opened it with a password and stepped aside as if saying 'ladies first.'

I walked into the room that looked like something out of a sex scene. Just as I was looking around, he pulled me closer and began to kiss me.

I kissed him back too, jumping up and wrapping my legs around his waist as he held me up. He walked few steps as we kissed and dropped me in front of a bar.

Before I could get my bearings, he already cuffed my wrists and ankles to the bars.

"Wait, wait. What's going on?" I asked him.

He looked at me with a little bit of annoyance and asked, "Don't you know what you are here for?"

"No, I'm Beverly." I said ,hoping that could clear the confusion.

He froze. "What did you say?"

"I'm Beverly." I repeated.

"Fuck, fuck." He muttered as he began to uncuff me immediately. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"You really didn't give me a chance ,with all the commands." I mumbled.

He pulled me out of the room and locked the door after him. "Forget whatever you saw this evening."

I stared at him while rubbing my wrists. “That’s literally impossible.”

The man exhaled sharply.

Even in the darkness, I could feel the tension rolling off him now. Controlled before. Agitated now.

Interesting. Very interesting.

“You brought me into a BDSM dungeon,” I whispered in disbelief. “Then handcuffed me to a bar.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be you.”

“Well, thank God we solved that mystery.”

He muttered another curse beneath his breath.

I crossed my arms slowly, finally finding enough courage to really look at him.