Chapter 2: The Night Of No Return

Marceline POV

Knock. Knock.

The sound pulled me out of sleep. I frowned, raising my heavy head and blinking, trying to recognize where I was. Relief washed over me when I realized I was still in my car. But then the headache hit me again, pounding hard.

Knock.

The sound came again. I turned and saw a traffic warden knocking on my window.

I sighed and lowered the glass.

“Are you okay, ma?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

“Yes… I’m fine,” I replied, rubbing my forehead. The pain throbbed stronger.

“Are you sure, ma? You’ve been here for five hours.”

“Five hours?” I blinked at him, stunned. My eyes darted around. The sky was already dark. He was right. I had been sitting here for hours. I hadn’t even realized it. I must have cried myself to sleep after leaving Anastasia’s villa.

How had I even managed to pull my shaking body out of that house? I didn’t know.

“If you’re really okay, ma, can you move your car?” his voice pulled me out of my thoughts again.

“Yes… yes. Sorry for the trouble,” I stammered quickly.

He nodded and stepped away.

I let out a long shaky breath and pushed back my messy hair with trembling hands. I didn’t want to go home yet, but the warden was still standing nearby, watching me. I had no choice. I had to leave.

I started the car slowly and drove off.

But with every turn of the wheel, my heart trembled as the memory of what I had seen earlier flooded me again. It still felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. My husband… Philip… in bed with Anastasia. Not just my friend, but a married woman with a child.

My chest tightened painfully. The thought of him touching me after touching her made me sick. My stomach turned violently.

I pulled over to the side of a building, pushed the door open, and rushed out. I bent over and vomited, my body shaking.

“God…” I groaned, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. The bitter taste stung my throat.

“Isn’t it too early to get drunk?” a voice said behind me.

I turned and saw two young girls walking past, glancing at me.

“I guess she’s a novice,” the other girl whispered with a smirk.

Only then did I realize where I had stopped. A club. Music pounded faintly from inside, and people were walking in and out, laughing, dressed for the night.

I dragged my heavy feet back toward my car, but then I stopped. My eyes lingered on the building.

It had been years since I last stepped inside a club. I knew what happened there. Part of me thought… maybe I should go in. Maybe that would help me numb the pain, drown everything I felt tonight.

But then another thought hit me. A dangerous one.

One that could stain my pride as a woman. One that went against everything I had always believed in.

Never lower yourself to the standard of those who betrayed you. Their actions show their character, not yours.

I scoffed bitterly at the voice in my head.

Slowly, I walked back to the car and reached for my mirror. I combed through my tangled hair, dusted powder onto my pale face, and painted my lips with lipstick.

I stared at my reflection, my face cold, my eyes burning with something I had never seen in myself before.

“This isn’t revenge,” I whispered to the woman in the mirror. “It’s an experiment.”

If Philip and Anastasia..both married could betray so shamelessly and still find pleasure in it, then tonight, I would find out what that felt like too.

“I, Marceline Valemont, will experience that too.”

With that vow, I opened the car door, stepped out, and walked straight into the club.

The moment I stepped into the club, the loud music hit me, the lights flashing and glowing everywhere. My eyes shifted around, trying to adjust to the brightness. I wasn’t here for the young boys running wild on the dance floor. No… I wanted a man. A mature man. An older man.

My gaze drifted left and right, scanning the crowded room. Then I saw him.

At the far corner, a man sat alone. He was different. He wasn’t laughing, dancing, or even pretending to enjoy the noise around him. He sat still, sipping slowly from his glass as if nothing here mattered.

With firm steps, I walked toward him. My heart pounded inside me, but I kept my face steady.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said once I reached him, my voice trembling just slightly. “Will you sleep with me?”

His eyes flickered with surprise for the briefest second, but just as quickly, his face went calm again. He didn’t say a word...just stared at me. His silence made me nervous.

I swallowed hard. “Don’t worry about disease,” I added quickly. “I’m clean.”

"Do you usually make such requests to men?" he asked, his voice low, steady.

My face twisted with displeasure. Did he just say usually? I scoffed inwardly, heat rising in my chest.

"Are you in or not?" I snapped impatiently. "I don’t have time to waste. If you’re not interested, I’ll find someone else."

His eyes narrowed, studying me, as if weighing my desperation against his own curiosity. Then, slowly, his gaze dropped from my face....lingering down my chest, tracing over the curve of my body, sliding lower to my legs. My skin prickled under the weight of it.

At last, he lifted his glass, finished the last sip, and set it down with deliberate calm.

“Let’s go then,” he said simply, standing up and adjusting his coat.

Without another glance, he started walking away. My legs hesitated for only a second before following.

The elevator dinged and opened. He stepped inside without saying a word, and I followed, my heart racing. This wasn’t me. I had never done anything like this. But tonight, I was determined to feel what betrayal tasted like even if it burned me alive.

When the elevator opened into the hotel section of the club, I understood immediately. This place was designed for people who came here seeking exactly what I was seeking. He swiped his card at one of the doors, pushed it open, and walked in. He didn’t look back, only left the door wide open as if daring me to walk away.

But I didn’t. I stepped inside.

“That’s the bathroom. Go and freshen up,” he said, his deep voice low and steady, pointing toward the door.

That was when I finally saw his face clearly under the hotel light. Late thirties… maybe early forties. Handsome. Sharp features. His tall, well-built frame spoke of discipline, of strength. Probably a married man. But I didn’t care. This was only for tonight. After this, we would never see each other again.

“I told you, I’m clean,” I said softly, almost defensively.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he calmly removed his coat and began walking toward me.

My heart skipped as he closed the distance. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me against his solid body. My chest pressed into him, and I swallowed hard. Just that simple touch made my skin heat up, my breathing turn shallow.

His eyes locked onto mine. His free hand moved down and cupped my backside firmly.

A small gasp escaped me, and I bit my lip to hold back the moan rising in my throat.

He squeezed harder before leaning down and crushing his lips against mine. The kiss was fierce, demanding, and I moaned into his mouth, unable to stop myself. His grip on my waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, holding me like I belonged to him.

The power in his kiss made my knees weak.

"oooh" I moaned softly.

Even Philip...my husband had never kissed me like this.

When he finally pulled away, he stared straight into my eyes. Without a word, his fingers moved to my blouse and began unbuttoning it. One by one, the buttons came undone. Soon my blouse slipped off, then my skirt, until I stood in nothing but my bra and panties.

The cool air from the AC hit my skin, making me shiver. He stepped back, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. His gaze grew darker, hungrier, and suddenly a knot of fear twisted in my stomach.

Maybe I shouldn’t have picked him. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here at all.

I opened my mouth to say I didn’t want this anymore, but his deep voice cut through the air first.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes burning into me.

My lips parted in confusion. Why would he want to know that? This was supposed to be nameless, faceless, just one night.

He took a step closer, his tone firm. “Tell me your name.”

My chest tightened. Against my will, the answer slipped out of my lips. “Marceli… Elena,” I stammered, instantly regretting it. I hadn’t meant to give him my real name, but the weight of his voice left me powerless.

The corner of his mouth curved into a knowing smile. “Marceline,” he repeated, low and deliberate, as if tasting my name. “Marceline.”

Hearing him say my name sent a shiver down my spine. My knees pressed together unconsciously.

“Don’t be afraid, Marceline,” he whispered, his voice husky and commanding. “You will feel good.”

Then his mouth captured mine again.