Ava's POV

"Your hands let me help you," I said, gently taking the cards from him.

I looped his arm over my shoulder, and he didn't protest. Well, he couldn't because he looked like he was in pain. He groaned, though I felt the weight of him on my shoulder. I led him down the hall, finding the right room number on the card.

I could feel the tension in his body, as he fought to stay conscious. "I kept muttering, we are almost there," which was setting me on edge.

Sliding the card into the reader, I shoved the door open and helped him inside. The suite was massive. Plush furnishings, a sumptuous bed, and floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed the room with natural light.

"Here please sit," I said, lowering him to the edge of the bed. He groans, his head lounging back, as he tries to sit upright.

"Maybe you should lie down for some time," I said, pushing his broad shoulders to the back, as he tried to sit upright.

He placed his hands on me, trying to stop me. I pulled his hands away at the sensation of his bare skin against mine. Weird but I quickly brushed it off as nothing.

"Water.... I need what..." he still struggled to put words together.

I moved to the minibar, quickly grabbed a bottle of water for him, and then opened it. I helped him with his head, guiding him to drink the water.

"Thank you, " he said, his words a little clearer now. He just needed to sleep it off.

"You're welcome," I handed him the bottle, my finger brushing against him and then the sensation came again. "You didn't look like you were going to make it."

"Yes, I guess so," he chuckled. "Thank you."

"I will take my leave now," I said, with a smile. "Have a nice rest."

Before I could turn, he held my hand and said, "Wait!"

He stood with some effort, feeling a bit stronger. He moved closer, though I wasn't afraid.

'What does he want now?' I muttered inwardly, knowing fully well that my job was not to help a stranger. If Clara ever finds out, then I would be doomed.

He stood in front of me, his blue eyes fixed on mine. He leaned slowly and I knew he wanted to kiss me, but I didn't move.

His lips brushed against mine, slowly at first. It felt like he was testing my reaction. When he found no opposition, his hands slid down my back, pulling me closer. My breath hitches as he kept his hands, grasping the curve of my waist. Every nerve of my body ignited.

"Please stop..." I said, weakly. It felt like I didn't say anything. It felt like I didn't want him to wait.

His lips found mine again, this time it was faster. He began to grow desperate, his body trembling slightly against me. Whatever drug had been coursing through his system might have slowed him down, but it seemed to heighten his need, and I found myself melting into his touch.

“Don’t go,” he murmured, his lips trailing down to my neck. “Please.”

He had said the word so softly, so pleadingly, so at odds with the way he was clutching me, flush against him. Did I want to go?

He dipped his head into the crook of my neck and nibbled before biting down, pulling a gasp out of me. Then he continued, going lower, pushing my uniform out of the way.

If I had wanted to stop this, that had been the time. I should have stepped back, said I had work waiting for me, and walked out. I mean, I had barely known him. We had met like six minutes before. I should have gone—it would have been the sensible—

Oh!

He nipped at the peak of my breasts, and I exhaled shakily. The way he touched me, the way his lips explored my skin, made my resolve crumble.

So focused on the strong sensations he dragged out of me, I didn’t notice he had moved us back to the bed until my back touched the sheets.

He was slow to undress himself and then me, and he kissed me constantly, nibbling as he did. I felt something warm that warmed me up. He slipped his dick into me and stroked in softly. I had been vibrating with pent-up energy by the time both of us were finally bare.

He claimed every part of me, thoroughly. His touch had been both demanding and tender, as if he were both lost in the moment and determined to make it unforgettable.

I had let myself go, let myself feel. It had been bliss.

Afterwards, tangled in the sheets, our bodies pressed together, I could see the man’s struggle to keep his eyes open, but that had been a battle he quickly lost.

I lay beside him for a few moments more, nestled against his warmth before carefully extracting myself from him.

I quickly got dressed and slipped out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. The hallway felt colder now, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me.

No more private suits for me that night. Grabbing the tray I had abandoned earlier, I went back to the kitchens, hoping no one would question me. No one looked at me as I entered, because the kitchen was in a flurry and I silently slid in with some servers who were going to work the poker room.

It had been the right call, even if it was a little uncomfortable. The clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation had drowned out the chaos in my head. My aching feet and the excitement of the games all around had kept me from thinking about the ache in more intimate parts of my body.

And more importantly, it had kept me from thinking about him.

Irrationally, I had felt like people knew—like they had been watching me, almost as if they could smell it on me. But of course, they couldn’t have known that for the first time in my life, I had allowed a man to touch me. That I had given that stranger the one thing I had always held onto—my virginity.

And as I had climbed into the car well past midnight, I couldn’t help but feel like there was something I had forgotten.

Michael's POV

I woke up, feeling like I was submerged under water. Forcing my eyes open with a groan, I hissed as the sunlight immediately stabbed them. What the hell had happened? My head was fucking pounding.

Sitting up, I rubbed my temple as the events of the previous night came trickling back to me. The poker room, the drowsiness, the woman... God, the woman.

Maybe she had been an angel sent to me. She couldn’t have been anything else. As I remembered the more intimate details of our night, a calming feeling of contentment washed over me.

I needed to find her again.

My gaze was caught by something reflecting the light — a delicate silver bangle, lying forgotten on the carpet, partially hidden under my clothes.

I picked it up, turning it over in my hand. Yes, I remembered this. We had been kissing when I took it off. But why can't I bring her face to mind?

At least I needed to pay her for what she did. She saved my life. Immediately, I picked up a bangle from the floor, stared at it for a while. But then, there was no name written on it. How would I be able to find her?

I picked up my phone from the nightstand and dialed Kieran, my assistant's number. He picked up immediately. "Two things, I want you to do for me."

"Yes sir, " he yawns.

"First, investigate last night. I asked the staff to make sure my drinks weren't tampered with and I don't like it when I don't get what I paid for." My fist clenched around the bangle. If it wasn't for the woman. "Someone drugged me last night; he wanted me out of my wits, and they succeeded. Do you see the problem here, Kieran?"

"Yes sir?"

"The second thing is, I want you to find the angel who saved me last night," I said, knowing fully that I can't picture the lady's face or her name. How would I then find her?

"Sir?" he said, bringing me back from my thoughts. "Sir, where do I see the lady?"

"I don't know," I said, sounding confused.

"Sir, do you have her name or maybe a picture of her?"

"Never mind," I finally said. "Just out who tried to poison me. Understood."

"Yes sir," he said, hanging up.

The moment I hung up, my phone rang again. When I checked the caller ID, I frowned. It was my mum. I already knew what she was going to talk about.

I answered with a sigh. “Hello?”

“Michael,” she said softly, like she was afraid I’d hang up again, “your dad wants to speak with you. Can you come home? You haven’t been home in two days.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m not coming home, Mum. I don’t want to talk to him.”

There was a short silence, then her voice came again, a little more pleading this time. “Come home, son. Your dad wants to see you.”

I could already feel the argument waiting for me like a storm cloud. “I said I’m not coming. This is just like last time.”

“Michael—please.”

I didn’t say another word. I ended the call and tossed the phone on the table.

But the words lingered. “You haven’t been home in two days.” Like I didn’t already know that. Like staying away was an accident and not a choice. They never stopped with the pressure, especially my dad. Marriage this, marriage that.

Still, something in me couldn’t shake off her voice. So I gave in.

I finally drove home.

The Miller's mansion.

The door creaked open, and almost instantly, Mum appeared from around the hallway, her face a mixture of relief and worry.

“Go upstairs,” she said. “Your father’s in his study. He’s been waiting.”

I didn’t say a word as I climbed the stairs. I already knew where this was going.

I knocked once before stepping in. Dad stood by the window, hands clasped behind his back, just like he always did when he was preparing to lecture someone.

“You called me?”

He turned slowly, his expression unreadable. “Yes. Sit.”

I sat, but I didn’t bother pretending I was calm.

“I want you to get married,” he said.

I stared at him, trying not to laugh. “So that’s why I’m here?”

“You’re not a child, Michael. It’s time.”

“I’ve told you, I’m not ready. I’m not going to marry someone just because you think I should.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” he snapped.

“I’m not taking any tone,” I said, my voice rising.

“I left this house because you and Mum keep pressuring me into marrying someone I don’t even love.”

Right then, Mum walked in, eyes wide with concern.

“Michael,” she said quietly, “that’s not the way to speak to your father.”

I turned to her. “How did I speak to him? Tell me.”

But Dad was already stepping forward. “If you’re not going to settle down and do what’s expected, then I’ll make it simple. I’ll cut you off. No inheritance. No business. No house.”

I blinked. “You’re serious?”

“I’ve worked hard for what I have. I won’t watch you waste it because you refuse to be responsible.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Then take it. Take it all.”

“Good,” he said. “Starting now, the company assets are off-limits. The penthouse—hand it over. I’ll have the legal team handle it.”

“I can’t believe you,” I muttered. “You think because I’m not getting married on command, I don’t deserve any of this?”

“This isn’t about emotion. It’s about building a legacy.”

I started to walk out. But then I stopped.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll get married.”

They both looked stunned.

“But not to someone you pick for me,” I continued. “I haven’t found the right woman yet. But I’m searching.”

I hesitated for a moment, then added, “Actually, last night... I met someone. I don’t know her name. I don’t know where she went. But she saved me—from something bad. And at that moment... it felt like everything in my life suddenly made sense.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “That’s none of my business. My concern is that you get married. And soon, we will find a perfect match for you. We are planning on getting one."

Rage boiled in my chest. “You just want control. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.”

“Call it what you like,” he said. “My conditions are clear.”

I didn’t respond. I just left the study.

As I walked out of that house, I knew one thing for certain: the girl was the right person for me.

Just then, my mother, Laura Miller, walked in when I finally got to my room.

"Michael, your father never told you about my health. I am dying soon." I could see her fighting the tears in her eyes.

"What?" I yelled.