Under His Control

Emma jolted awake.

Her breath caught when her eyes registered the unfamiliar ceiling. Not her room. Not the ceiling she saw every morning. Wrinkled white sheets lay beneath her body, and an unfamiliar masculine scent slipped into her senses, making her chest suddenly tighten.

“No. No, no, no…” she whispered in panic.

She turned her head slowly, as if afraid of what she might see. A strange man was sleeping soundly beside her. A strong jawline, slightly tousled hair. And the two of them were under the same blanket.

“Oh God…” Emma’s voice barely came out.

Her trembling hand pulled back the edge of the blanket. Her chest was exposed. Her shoulders bare. Not a single thread covered her body.

She swallowed hard. “This is impossible,” she whispered faintly. “This has to be a dream.”

But the throbbing in her head, the dryness in her throat, and the ache in her body said otherwise.

The man shifted slightly, letting out a soft grunt. Emma froze instantly, not daring to move at all.

“Don’t wake up. Please, don’t wake up,” she begged silently, full of hope.

She took a long breath, forcing her mind to work. “Calm down, Emma. Calm down. Don’t panic.”

Her gaze swept the room. A neat apartment bedroom. The man’s shirt hung over the back of a chair. The wall clock showed a little past six. She searched for her phone—thank God—it lay on the nightstand.

“I have to leave,” she murmured. “Now, before he wakes up.”

Moving as quietly as possible, Emma slid out from under the blanket. She stood at the foot of the bed, picking up the clothes scattered on the floor. Last night’s dress. Her shoes.

“How could this…?” her lips trembled. “I don’t remember anything.”

She glanced back at the bed. The man was still sleeping soundly, his face peaceful, and… quite handsome.

Fragments of memory suddenly slipped in, making her head throb harder.

Blinding club lights. Music that was too loud. Two unfamiliar men approaching, making her uncomfortable. Then that man came—Alex.

“Come on. I’ll take you home,” he said as he pulled Emma away.

“Home where?” Emma mumbled at the time, letting out a small laugh. “I forgot… where do I live again?”

She remembered smiling stupidly. “You’re handsome and you smell nice.”

Emma rubbed her face roughly in the present. “Damn it…”

“My name’s Emma…” her own voice sounded rambling in her memory. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“Alex.” The man fastened her seatbelt. “Listen, Emma. Do you remember where you live? I’ll take you home.”

Emma shook her head too hard, making her dizzy. “No… I don’t want to go home.”

Her awareness rose and fell that night. Some parts were clear, others blurred, as if wiped away entirely.

She remembered Alex helping her into a room. She almost fell twice, but Alex caught her. He pulled up the blanket and covered her body.

“Go to sleep,” Alex said. “Tomorrow morning I’ll take you home.”

She almost fell asleep—almost.

“Don’t go…” She held onto Alex’s hand.

“Emma—”

Her hand grabbed the man’s wrist, pulling him until he was pushed down to sit on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she whispered. “Please stay with me.”

“Emma, you’re drunk.”

“Just tonight,” she pleaded, her fingers trembling as they touched Alex’s face. “I’m begging you.”

The woman she had been last night felt foreign to her now. Bold. Desperate. Foolish.

Emma shook her head hard, cutting off the flashback. “Enough,” she murmured. “Enough.”

“I don’t want this to become a problem,” she said softly. “No one can know.”

She remembered something far more suffocating.

“You’re engaged, Emma,” she scolded herself. “You remember that, don’t you?”

Her chest tightened. Guilt spread quickly, pressing down on her breath.

“Jonathan can’t find out,” she whispered in panic. “I don’t want the carefully laid plans I’ve built for so long to fall apart.”

She grabbed her bag, slipped in her phone, and stepped toward the door. Before leaving, she turned once more toward the bed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I have to go. We must never meet again.”

She closed the door softly, almost without a sound.

In the quiet apartment hallway, Emma leaned against the wall for a moment. Her body trembled.

“This never happened,” she murmured, trying to convince herself. “Never.”

She walked away, unaware that the decision she made that morning would be the beginning of a betrayal—and revenge—that would one day destroy more than one .