Lena's breath caught.
Drake Industries.
The name glowed on his screen like a warning. Her fingers tingled, the aftershocks of their pleasure still clinging to her skin—but this felt different. Cold. Sharp.
Her mind reeled, barely able to keep up with the twist unraveling before her.
Drake.
She knew that name. Everyone did.
A whisper in boardrooms. A storm behind luxury empires. Ruthless. Obsessive. Unreachable.
And she had just given herself to him like he was nobody.
Her knees weakened slightly, the edges of the sheets brushing her thighs as she sat on the bed, dazed. She heard the faint murmur of his voice in the other room. Calm. Controlled. Businesslike.
The contrast to the man who had just devoured her like he couldn't get enough made her feel... hollow.
She tried to breathe. In and out. Slow. Reasonable. But none of this was reasonable.
She'd just had the most intense night of her life with Elliot Drake.
Elliot. Fucking. Drake.
Not just any man. Not just some sexy stranger at the bar with eyes that could melt stone and a voice that twisted through her body like smoke.
He was that man.
The one whose companies were written about in financial columns. The man who crushed competitors for sport. The man people feared—and fantasized about.
And now, the man who had just been buried deep inside her, whispering her name like it meant something.
A bitter laugh slipped out before she could stop it.
It was almost poetic. Her luck had never been gentle. She finally let go for one night—and the universe made sure it came with consequences.
She stood, shaky, and reached for her dress, sliding it slowly up her body. Her movements felt surreal, her skin still marked by him, but her thoughts spiraling out of control.
The sound of the call ended.
A moment later, she heard the quiet rustle of his steps returning.
She turned, already dressed, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
Elliot stepped back into the room, shirtless, his slacks riding low on his hips, phone still in his hand.
He stopped short when he saw her. Not shocked. Not guilty. Just... focused.
His eyes skimmed over her, noting the change instantly—the distance in her stance, the tension in her jaw.
"You saw the name," he said simply.
Lena didn't answer right away. She held his gaze, trying to read something in him she couldn't name. She wanted him to lie, to explain it away. But he didn't.
"You're him," she finally said, voice low. "Elliot Drake."
"I am."
"And you didn't think that was worth mentioning before you got into my body?"
A flicker of something passed through his eyes. "Would it have changed anything?"
"Yes," she bit out.
"Then I'm glad I didn't."
Lena blinked.
The arrogance. The calm audacity. It almost made her laugh again. Almost.
"You think this is funny?" she asked, her voice rising.
"No," Elliot said quietly, moving a step closer. "I think it's real."
She shook her head. "You're used to getting what you want. I can see that now. But I'm not some woman you can just collect and forget."
"I have no intention of forgetting you."
She froze.
The way he said it—low, almost possessive—sent a tremor through her spine, despite her anger. That voice. That damn voice.
"This was supposed to be simple," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
Elliot's gaze softened slightly. "It still can be."
She gave a hollow laugh. "Don't insult me. You're a billionaire CEO with a list of enemies and a reputation colder than stone, and I'm…" She gestured to herself. "I'm not part of that world."
"You were last night."
Her heart twisted painfully at his words. The way he said it was almost as if he believed it—that one night made her part of his world. And for a moment, it almost felt like it could be true.
"You made me feel safe," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "And that's the worst part."
The silence stretched between them like a taut string, and for the first time, Elliot seemed unsure. She didn't want to feel sympathy for him, but she couldn't help herself. There was something in his eyes—something broken beneath that cold exterior—that unnerved her more than it should have. Something that made her feel exposed. Vulnerable.
"I didn't plan this," he said, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. "But I don't regret it."
Lena's heart twisted painfully. She hated how her pulse quickened at his words. How everything inside her screamed for more, even though she knew better.
"I do."
It wasn't true. Not fully. But it was safer to pretend. Safer to distance herself from him, to protect the fragile parts of herself that had been exposed in the heat of their passion.
"I should go," she said, moving toward the door. She had to get away. She couldn't stay here, couldn't be near him, not when everything inside her was unraveling. The night had been too much. Too intense. Too real.
Elliot didn't stop her—but his voice followed her like a touch, pulling at her insides.
"I'll see you again, Lena."
She paused at the threshold, hand on the knob, her mind a maelstrom. Her breath was ragged, her body trembling in ways she couldn't explain. Why did he have to say it like that? Why did his words make her want to stay, even though she knew better?
"Don't be so sure," she said quietly, voice rough.
And then, she left. Every step away from him felt heavier, as if the weight of the night—and of what had just happened—was anchoring her to him, pulling her back.
Outside, the city air hit her like a slap. Cool. Unforgiving. Real.
She climbed into the back of a cab with trembling fingers and gave her address.
As the car pulled away, Lena pressed a hand lightly to her stomach, unaware of the subtle shift already beginning inside her. There was a storm inside her. One she couldn't yet name.
The city passed by in a blur of lights, and Lena's mind spun with thoughts of him—of what he had done to her, of how effortlessly he had slipped beneath her skin. His touch lingered in her memory like a brand, his scent still clinging to the fabric of her clothes. The ache inside her deepened as she tried to make sense of the storm swirling in her chest.
Her hands gripped the cab seat, her heart thrumming as if it had its own pulse, separate from her body. Was it anger? Or something else? Fear, maybe. But there was an edge to it that she couldn't identify, something dangerous. She didn't want to be wrapped up in him, not like this. But the more she tried to push him away, the stronger the pull between them became.
When the cab slowed to a stop outside her apartment, Lena felt a strange reluctance to leave the car. She stared out of the window for a long moment, watching the streetlights blur as tears threatened to spill. She was so tired. Tired of the uncertainty, of the way Elliot had swept into her life and disrupted everything.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, breaking the spell, and her heart sank when she saw the name that flashed across the screen.
Elliot. Again.
She didn't answer. Not yet. She couldn't. Not after everything.
She stepped out of the cab, her legs unsteady, and walked into the building, the doors closing behind her with a finality that echoed in her chest.