The Pluto Club was alive with light, music, and an air of victory. Laser beams danced through the foggy atmosphere, bouncing off glimmering champagne flutes and sequined dresses. The bass pounded like a heartbeat, syncing perfectly with the pulse of excitement that filled the air. Tonight, everyone came to celebrate one man—Nathan Maxwell, CEO of Maxwell Enterprise, who had just sealed a groundbreaking merger with a foreign tech conglomerate.
Dressed in fitted black trousers and a crisp white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, Nathan stood in the VIP section, his presence commanding, his smile lazy and charming. He laughed, clinked glasses, and welcomed praises from business partners, celebrities, and socialites alike. If power had a face tonight, it was his.
By his side was Kristy Bennett, his curvaceous and ever-dazzling assistant wearing an emerald-green satin dress that clung to her curves like second skin. Her lips were painted a bold red, and her hair flowed in elegant waves that brushed against her shoulders. She stuck to Nathan like a second shadow—laughing at every word, whispering into his ear, and letting her perfectly manicured hand rest on his chest just a little longer than necessary.
"Nathan," she whispered with a sly smile as the crowd roared around them, "tonight feels... different."
He tilted his head slightly toward her, his breath tinged with liquor. "You think so?"
"I know so," she purred, her fingers trailing down his forearm. "You pulled off an historic deal. We should celebrate—privately."
Nathan chuckled. He was several shots deep, the champagne bubbling in his veins. His vision blurred a little as he gazed at Kristy's flawless face, memories rising like vapor in the heat of the club. That fire in her eyes—it wasn't new. It was familiar.
It reminded him of years ago, when he'd come home from college during a break and visited his father at Maxwell Enterprise. Kristy had already been working in the company back then, and even then, her attraction to him was obvious. She was older, bolder, and unapologetically seductive.
That evening, after bumping into him in the hallway, she'd invited him over to her place for dinner. "Just a casual meal," she'd said.
But it was anything but casual.
She'd served wine, laughed easily, and when the tension became unbearable, she walked over to him, unbuttoned his shirt, and kissed him like she had waited her whole life for it. Nathan, caught between inexperience and sheer temptation, gave in. Their clothes hit the floor in a rush, and what followed was a night of unrestrained lust. They made love with the hunger of two souls starved for touch. It wasn't sweet or slow—it was urgent, wild, and unforgettable.
Tonight felt just like that.
"I need to get out of here," Nathan muttered, swaying slightly.
Kristy grinned. "Then let's go."
---
The ride back to Nathan's mansion was laced with tension.
Kristy sat in the passenger seat, her legs crossed seductively, her hand casually resting on Nathan's thigh as he drove, slightly swerving through the night's quiet roads. The cool air of the A/C did nothing to cool the heat simmering between them. She kept giggling and teasing, whispering things he barely caught over the pounding in his head.
"Remember the first time I touched you like this?" she purred, her fingers grazing the inside of his wrist on the steering wheel.
Nathan didn't respond, but his lips curved slightly. How could he forget?
It had been years ago—he'd just turned twenty. His father had summoned him to the company to shadow him for a week during the summer. Nathan had shown up in jeans and a navy-blue polo, unsure of how to behave in the corporate world. But when he'd walked through the office doors, Kristy had seen him. And Kristy had never been the type to hesitate.
He remembered how she invited him over that evening, telling him she made a mean lasagna. He remembered how she opened the door in a robe and heels, pretending like it was nothing. But most of all, he remembered how she led him to her bedroom that night and said, "You're the most dangerously handsome man I've ever seen… and I'm not holding back."
Their bodies had met like waves crashing into the rocks—chaotic and unstoppable. There had been nothing soft or tender about that night. No sweet music, no soft words. Just raw skin, desperate breaths, and moans that filled the room like thunder. That night left a mark on them both, even though they never spoke about it again—until now.
Kristy leaned over in the car, her lips brushing against Nathan's earlobe. "Let's relive it. For old time's sake."
Nathan swallowed hard.
They pulled into the mansion driveway, and Nathan stumbled slightly as he stepped out, his keys jangling. Kristy grabbed his arm, laughing, holding him steady like a partner-in-crime. The grand black doors of the house opened with a quiet creak, welcoming them into the cool, dimly lit hallway.
No words were spoken. No need.
As soon as they were inside, Kristy pulled Nathan's shirt from his body, letting it fall to the marble floor. Nathan pressed her against the wall, his hands exploring familiar curves, his breath hot and wild. She tugged off her dress with practiced ease, revealing skin that gleamed under the hallway lights.
They kissed—sloppy and urgent, full of liquor and lust.
They didn't make it to the bedroom immediately. First, it was against the staircase wall. Then they stumbled into the living room, knocking over a vase neither of them noticed. Finally, they made it to Nathan's master bedroom, both half-naked, breathless, and high on nostalgia.
"God, you haven't changed," Kristy murmured as he trailed kisses down her neck. "Still reckless. Still hungry."
He groaned in response, flipping her onto the bed, their bodies colliding in rhythm. They made love like they had back then—fast, hard, intense. The kind of sex that left scratches, tangled sheets, and hoarse voices.
Kristy's voice broke into the dark, panting between moans. "This is what we needed… this is what you needed."
Nathan didn't answer. His mind was blurry with desire and alcohol.
But somewhere deep inside him, a different voice tried to surface—one that whispered another name…
The night was quiet outside the mansion, but inside Emily's heart, there was a storm.
She sat curled up by her bedroom window, the curtains drawn back just enough to catch glimpses of the driveway. Her fingers clutched the fabric of her oversized sweater as she watched the time crawl past midnight. She hadn't gone to the club. She couldn't. Seeing Nathan surrounded by flashing cameras, champagne, and the glamorous Kristy would have been too much.
The loud hum of a car engine stirred her from her thoughts.
She leaned forward, squinting. Her breath caught.
Nathan's sleek black car pulled into the driveway. The headlights cut through the night before dimming as the engine shut off. She could make out the outline of two figures inside.
Her stomach twisted.
A moment later, the passenger door opened, and Kristy stepped out, laughing—her dress slightly hiked up, her hair wild, and her stilettos in one hand. Nathan emerged next, stumbling slightly before catching himself against the door. His arm slung around Kristy's shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Emily's nails dug into her palm.
Her throat tightened as she watched them giggle like high school lovers, whispering and clinging to each other. The front door opened and then closed, swallowing them both into the same space Emily called home. Her home. Her safe place. Or at least, it used to be.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Not yet.
She wasn't angry that he brought a woman home.
She was angry that it was Kristy.
That same arrogant, manipulative woman who always strutted through Maxwell Enterprise as though she owned the place. That same woman who, even during Mr. Maxwell's reign, acted like she had a crown on her head.
"I've never liked her," Emily whispered into the silence. "Right from when senior Maxwell was alive. She's too full of herself."
She slammed the curtain shut and sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest.
"Even if my boss isn't looking my way… can't he at least stick to one woman?"
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Is this what I deserve?"
Despite all her attempts to keep things professional, despite how hard she worked—cooking, cleaning, making sure everything was perfect—she was invisible. A maid. A background noise in Nathan's glamorous world.
She had long given up any silly fantasy about him falling in love with her. She knew her place.
But deep down, her heart hadn't stopped aching.
She remembered the small moments—how Nathan would sometimes flash her a warm smile after a meal, or how he'd ask if she was okay when she looked tired. Those fleeting gestures had become hope for Emily. A fragile, dangerous hope.
And tonight, that hope was crushed under the weight of stilettos and Kristy's fake laughter.
From her room, she heard a muffled crash—maybe a vase hitting the ground—and then giggles that made her skin crawl. Her heart thudded violently in her chest. Her imagination ran wild, painting images she didn't want to see. Images of Nathan kissing Kristy. Touching her. Undressing her.
Her blood boiled.
She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could silence her thoughts. But the mansion was too quiet, and the sounds upstairs were too loud.
"Why her?" she whispered.
Why not someone kind? Someone quiet? Someone who didn't see Nathan as a prize to show off?
Why not… her?
Because I'm just the maid.
Her pride told her to stop caring. To focus on herself. To remember who she was before she entered this house.
But her heart?
Her heart cried in silence, breaking piece by piece with every laugh and every moan that floated down from Nathan's room.
---
The sun broke through the clouds gently, casting a golden hue over the Maxwell estate. Birds chirped in the distance, but inside the mansion, the atmosphere was heavy.
Emily hadn't slept a wink.
She had tossed and turned all night, haunted by the sounds that had bled through the walls—the creak of a bed frame, muffled moans, and Kristy's unmistakable laughter. It had played like a broken record in her ears. By dawn, she was numb.
Still, she rose early—like always—and went about her chores with a tight jaw and silent fury. She washed dishes that weren't dirty, mopped floors that didn't need mopping, just to escape her thoughts.
Upstairs in the master bedroom, the scent of expensive cologne and last night's heat still lingered in the air. Nathan stirred, his head pounding. The brightness streaming through the curtains felt like a personal attack on his skull. He groaned and rolled over.
Kristy lay beside him, a soft smirk tugging at her lips. Her makeup had faded, and her curls were loose around her shoulders. She trailed her finger along his chest.
"Last night…" she whispered, "was special to me, Maxwell."
Nathan blinked slowly, turning his head toward her, but his gaze was empty—distant. "Hmm."
Kristy leaned in to kiss him, but he turned away, sitting up instead. "I need to get ready for work," he mumbled.
She frowned slightly. "Come on… don't act cold. You didn't seem to mind when you were—"
"That was last night," Nathan cut her off sharply. He swung his legs over the bed and stood. "And we were drunk."
Kristy's smile faltered, but she tried to hold onto her confidence. "So what? We've done it before. You can't deny there's still something between us."
Nathan exhaled, walking toward his wardrobe. "Kristy… you're a good assistant. But let's keep it that way."
Her heart sank, but she forced a laugh. "You're unbelievable. You begged for it last night."
Nathan turned, his tone flat. "Last night was another mistake."
There was a silence so thick it choked the room.
Kristy's face turned stony. "So, what now? You pretend it didn't happen?"
She stared at him, eyes wide. "Are you serious?"
Nathan pulled on his white dress shirt and buttoned it briskly. "Dead serious."
Kristy stood slowly, wrapping a sheet around her body. "Wow. You really are your father's son."
Nathan froze briefly, then gave a tight nod. "Make sure you get to work on time."
And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving Kristy seething in silence.
—
Downstairs, Emily was polishing the living room glass table when she heard the soft clicks of heels.
Kristy.
Descending the staircase in one of Nathan's oversized shirts, her curls fixed, lips glossed, and eyes rimmed in last night's fading mascara. She looked smug—but not as smug as before. There was a tension in her shoulders. A bruise of rejection beneath the glamour.
Emily stood, straightening her spine as their eyes met.
Neither woman spoke.
But something unspoken passed between them—like lightning in the silence. A standoff of pride, pain, and quiet rivalry.
Kristy walked past her with her head held high, but Emily could sense it: the night hadn't ended the way she wanted.
Moments later, Nathan came down, fully dressed, his expression blank.
He barely looked at Emily as he grabbed his car keys from the console.
"Don't forget to lock the main door after she leaves," he said without emotion.
Emily nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir."
Then he was gone, the door shutting behind him like the closing of a chapter.
Emily stood still in the quiet house, the echo of his voice fading. The ache in her chest had dulled, replaced with something colder—something stronger.
She was done crying.
She was done hoping.
Kristy may have spent the night in Nathan's bed, but she had seen the morning with nothing but silence and rejection.
And that gave Emily the tiniest sliver of strength.
Because maybe… just maybe… she wasn't the one losing after all.