Sores and aches

Chapter Eleven

Andrea’s POV

I wake up slowly, the kind of slow where my brain is still half-asleep but my body is already screaming at me.

Everything aches.

My body feels like it has been through a very polite war, sore in places I did not know could ache, heavy in the best and worst ways. The sheet clings to my skin, cool and expensive, and when I shift my legs, a sharp reminder shoots between my thighs. 

Oh God. 

It was not a dream. Tristan Hale really did fuck me twice this morning, once on the dining table like I was dessert, then again in this bed where he made me ride him until I forgot my own name.

My cheeks heat just thinking about it. I was not graceful. I was not smooth. I was just… me. Clumsy, eager, a little desperate. And he still looked at me like I was the only thing in the room.

I lie there for a long minute, staring at the ceiling that probably costs more than my entire childhood home. The penthouse is quiet. No Mom humming off-key in the kitchen. No Ethan’s soft cough from the next room. Just me, naked under silk sheets that smell faintly of him, woody cologne mixed with something darker, something that makes my stomach tighten even now.

Slowly, I sit up. The movement pulls at muscles I did not know existed. I wince and let out a small, embarrassing laugh at myself. “Congratulations, Andrea. You survived your first billionaire dick. Barely though.”

The robe I had worn lies crumpled on the floor like evidence. I pull it on, tying the belt loosely, and pad barefoot to the bathroom. The mirror shows exactly what I expected… messy hair, swollen lips, faint marks on my hips where his fingers held too tight and a hickey on my collarbone that I definitely do not remember getting. Damn, I look thoroughly used. And strangely… alive.

I freshen up quickly, splashing cold water on my face, brushing my teeth with the new toothbrush laid out like everything else in this place was waiting for me. 

In the drawer I find the morning-after pill packet exactly where I placed it. My fingers hesitate for half a second. This is the deal. No attachments. No babies. Just one year of being his convenient little secret.

I swallow the pill with a gulp of water and stare at my reflection. “You signed up for this, girl. No crying over spilled contract now.”

Back in the bedroom, I open the huge closet. Rows of clothes in my exact size hang like they have always belonged to me. I pick a simple soft sweater and loose pants, nothing too fancy for an afternoon alone. The fabric feels like butter against my skin. Another reminder that everything here is better than what I left behind.

I wander to the tall windows and look out. The view is nothing like the noisy city streets I am used to. Instead, I see a long stretch of perfectly manicured grass rolling out like green carpet, a sparkling swimming pool that looks untouched, a wide driveway where two black cars sit gleaming under the afternoon sun. Guards in dark suits stand at the gate like statues. It is beautiful in a cold, private way. The kind of beauty that says “you do not belong here unless someone powerful says you do.”

My stomach growls. I head downstairs to the kitchen area. Claire appears almost immediately, calm and efficient as always.

“Miss Vale, good afternoon. Mr. Hale left instructions for lunch whenever you wake. Would you like it served now?”

I nod, suddenly shy. “Yes, please. Thank you, Claire.”

She sets out a light meal. Scratch that, grilled chicken salad, fresh bread, and some fancy juice that probably costs more per bottle than my weekly groceries used to is no light meal. 

I eat slowly, forcing myself to finish most of it even though nerves still twist my stomach. Halfway through the meal, my new phone buzzes on the counter. I pick it up, expecting a message from Mom or maybe a sarcastic text from Tristan saying “behave.” Instead the banking app notification lights up the screen.

My eyes widen as the numbers register.

Ten million dollars credited into my account.

Ten. Fucking. Million. 

The fork slips from my fingers and clatters against the plate. I stare at the screen, blinking multiple times but the number doesn't change. This is real. 

“Holy shit,” I whisper. “Holy actual shit.”

This is more money than my entire family has seen in years. Enough to pay off a good percentage of the loans, hospital bill, overdue notice that ever made Mom cry in the kitchen. Enough to buy Ethan the biggest Transformers collection in the world and still have change left over for a decent life.

I feel tears prick at my eyes and blink them back hard. No crying. Not here. Not when this is exactly what I sold myself for.

Before I can even wrap my head around it, my phone rings. Mom’s name flashes across the screen. I answer fast, heart still racing.

“Andrea!” Her voice cracks with pure joy, the kind I have not heard in years. “Baby, you will not believe what just happened.”

I try to sound normal. “What happened, Mom?”

“Ethan… they moved him to a private wing at St. Gabriel’s Hospital this afternoon. A better room, better machines, everything. The doctor said a new specialist is taking over his case… Andrea he's one of the best cardiologists in the country. They called it a referral from your new boss. Your boss, Andrea! Who is this man? He paid for everything upfront. The nurse said the bill is fully covered for the next six months at least.”

I press a hand to my mouth so I do not make a sound. Tears prick my eyes. “That’s… that’s amazing, Mom.”

“I know! I cried in the hallway like an idiot. Your father actually smiled for the first time in months. Ethan keeps asking when you’re coming to see his new room. He wants to show you the big window.” She pauses, voice softening. “This job, Andrea… it really is changing everything. You tell that boss of yours thank you from all of us, okay? I don’t know how we’ll ever repay him.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. The ten million is still glowing on my screen. Repay him? I am the one who signed my body and my time away for this. And now he is fixing my family like it is nothing. Like flicking a switch.

“I’ll tell him,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “Give Ethan a big hug from me. Tell him I will come as soon as I can. I’m… I’m really happy, Mom. Really.”

We talk for a few more minutes. She asks careful questions about my “brand ambassador” job, and I lie smoothly, the way I have been practicing for months. She sounds lighter than she has in ages. When we hang up, I sit there staring at the half-eaten salad, the phone still warm in my hand.

Ten million. Ethan in a better hospital. A real cardiologist. All because I let a stranger fuck me on his dining table this morning and call him Master while I came apart.

A small, bitter laugh escapes me. “Well played, Andrea. You really went and became a high-class whore with benefits.”

But underneath the sarcasm, something warmer flickers. Relief. Real, bone-deep relief. For the first time in years, the constant weight of fear for my brother feels a little lighter. I can breathe without calculating how many more weeks we have before the next invoice destroys us.

I stand up and walk back to the window, looking out at the long grass field and the quiet driveway. Guards patrol slowly. The swimming pool glitters under the afternoon sun like it is waiting for someone who actually belongs here.

I am not that someone. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But for Ethan, for Mom, I will learn to wear this new skin. Even if it means waking up sore and confused, swallowing pills I never thought I would need, and pretending I am not terrified of how much I already want Tristan Hale to touch me again.

My phone buzzes once more. A single text from an unknown number, but I know exactly who it is.

*Eat everything on your plate. Training resumes at 6. Be ready.*

I stare at the message, a strange mix of annoyance and anticipation curling in my stomach.

Game on, Mr Hale.