ORENTAL HOTEL
Dialu felt an urgency to use the restroom. Her eyes flew open and she tried to bolt out of the comfort of her bed only to discover her lower half refused to cooperate.
Huh?
She couldn't move from the waist down. Something was holding her.
Why can't I move?! Her bladder screamed for mercy, but her body stayed rooted like a statue having a mind of its own. Panic set in.
Before she could process what, the hell was going on, movement beside her made her freeze, every cell in her body going on high alert. Slowly, painfully slowly, she turned her head to see what had moved immediately her eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth.
Her eyes scanned the room.
Hotel room.
Definitely a hotel room if the white décor was a good indication
Oh no. No no no no no—
The slight movement caused her to gasp, The sour ache between her thighs told a story she was not ready to hear. Each tiny shift shot a reminder through her body of everything that had happened last night.
Oh God. She was screwed
How had a delicate white flower like herself dared to have a one-night stand?
The memories came flooding in, crashing over her like a tsunami of regret. Her face contorted in horror as she clutched the duvet to her mouth to stop herself from screaming.
She'd actually done it; The evidence was scattered all over the room. For the first time in her twenty-four years of boring, bookish existence, she had listened to Leisha and decided to "live a little."
Well guess what, Leisha, she thought, panic rising, I LIVED A LITTLE TOO HARD.
And now here she was, naked, sore, and in a hotel room... with a stranger.
Okay, maybe not a total stranger. But close enough. Because the man beside her; dear heavens—he had no idea who she was.
Very carefully, like a spy on a stealth mission, she peeled his heavy arm off her waist, one finger at a time. Please don't wake up. Please don't wake up. I'll never live this down if you wake up and see me waddling like a guilty penguin across the room.
Grabbing her phone and clutching it to her chest like a teddy bear, she tiptoed to the ensuite bathroom. Her legs protested every step, thighs sore like she'd run a marathon. A marathon of very... explicit activity.
Ugh. Why did I let Leisha talk me into tequila? I hate tequila.
Dialu sat on the toilet, nearly groaning in relief. She tapped her phone, dialing Leisha with trembling fingers. She'll know what to do. She always knows what to do in situations like this.
But the call went to voicemail.
Again.
And again.
And AGAIN.
She stared at the phone like it had personally betrayed her. "Leisha, if you ever get married, I swear I will switch your bouquet with a cactus."
The headache pounding in her skull was not helping her think clearly. The more she tried to piece together last night, the more she felt like throwing up. She clutched her hair and groaned.
What if he thinks I'm a whore?
No, no, no. That was worse than waking up sore in a hotel room.
She hadn't meant for things to go this way. She'd just wanted to see him, talk to him, and maybe introduce herself. Not jump him like a horny fangirl in a steamy Wattpad story gone wrong.
And now she'd lost the chance to ever tell him the truth.
Taking a deep breath, Dialu opened the ensuite door just a crack and peeked into the room. His back was turned to her. They were broad, muscled, and absolutely not the kind of back that screamed "approachable." But good thing he was still asleep.
Now was her chance.
She tiptoed towards her clothes, which were scattered on the floor like evidence at a crime scene. Her red gown was the first thing she saw. The same plunging red gown that Leisha had sworn would "bring out the wild woman in her." Well, wild woman came, saw, and got absolutely wrecked.
She threw it on, tugging the fabric down in vain. The dress barely reached mid-thigh, and her cleavage was out here doing public appearances.
She could feel the walk of shame loading.
Her eyes darted back to the bed. He was still there, still lying like a fallen Greek god. muscle, tousled hair, and everything she had fantasized about for years.
Years.
Her heart squeezed painfully.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
She should have looked elegant. Been graceful. Said something poetic like, "Do you remember me?" Not… wake up in his bed, with sore thighs and no pants on.
As she searched frantically for her bag, a deep voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"What are you still doing here?"
Dialu jumped like she'd been caught shoplifting. She turned around, and there he was.
Sitting up. Shirtless.
And dear God, the blanket was no longer doing its job.
Her mouth opened but no sound came out. Her cheeks turned fire engine red as her brain played reruns of last night's unholy audio.
Even drunk, she'd remembered everything. Every. Damn. Thing. It was like it was just happening now instead of hours ago
His face was glorious even with a frown but right now it seemed like it was carved from pure stone. The iciness in his gaze could rival Antarctica.
Then, he tossed something shiny toward her. It landed beside her feet with a clink.
A gold card.
"You were waiting for your payment, right? That's a hundred-thousand-dollar card. Take it and get out of my sight."
His voice was like winter, very cold, hard, unforgiving.
Payment?
Did he just… did he just throw money at me?!!
Her chest tightened as rage boiled inside her. Excuse me, sir. I may have been stupid last night, but I am not for sale.
"I am not a whore," she snapped, voice shaking with fury.
"Oh, you could have fooled me." His eyes ran down her body again like he was inspecting a product. She tugged her dress down uselessly and clenched her fists, nails digging into her palm to stop herself from launching her shoe at his face.
"It wasn't intentional," she bit out, trying to keep what was left of her dignity.
"So you're trying to tell me that you approaching me, making me drink with you, was just a happy accident?" he said with an infuriating smirk.
She opened her mouth to explain to tell him what she had been hoping to say.
That we're married.
That they had met before.
That—
His palm lifted in a "shut up" gesture.
"I think I've heard enough. Take the card and leave."
He stood up, completely unbothered that he was naked, and strolled around her like he didn't just ruin her life in one morning.
Dialu stood there, frozen.
Her fingers trembled at her sides.
This was not the man she had dreamed about. This was not the sweet boy she married seven years ago.
Sure, he didn't recognize her. She didn't expect him to. Back then, she'd been a lanky seventeen-year-old with braces, skinny arms, and hair like a mop. If she wasn't impressed with herself but now she was different -not the sophisticated models he went out with- but definitely way better.
Now... she looked different. Softer. Curvier. More confident or at least, until ten minutes ago she was.
But him? He hadn't changed much. Except now his chest looked like it could bench-press a truck. He eyes looked colder and he looked more scary
She hated that She'd spent the last seven years watching him from afar, imagining what it would be like when they reunited.
Well surprise, past Dialu. You married an ass.
Then, his phone rang. He glanced at it and picked up at the second ring his face softened as he answered.
She wasn't trying to eavesdrop. Really, she wasn't.
But she couldn't help hearing:
"Yes, mother… The divorce papers are ready, just make the call."
"The marriage was a farce anyway; I don't need it hanging over my head."
Divorce?
You're planning to divorce me before even recognizing me?!
Unbelievable.
He hung up and turned to her, irritation written all over his stupidly beautiful face. "Do you need me to call someone to drag you out of here?"
He reached for the phone.
"I can go on my own," she snapped.
There was no point telling him now. He didn't care.
But one question lingered.
"What's your wife going to say about you sleeping around?" she asked coolly, her eyes daring him to answer.
He looked her dead in the eye… and lifted the phone again.
"Send security up here."
Okay. Rude.
As she reached for the door, it opened and nearly slammed into her face. A man with glasses stepped in and awkwardly stumbled back. He was an open book, so the surprise on his face couldn't be hidden at all. His eyes trailed down her from head to toe
"Oh! I'm sorry, miss," he said, flustered, clearly trying not to stare. His cheeks turned red showing his embarrassment
Dialu stepped aside and marched out, face burning with embarrassment and rage. Goodbye, fantasy. Hello, therapy.
Back inside, Junfeng rubbed his temples in frustration.
He hated mornings like this. He had rules. Strict rules. And now, he was paying for one stupid night of letting loose.
"Boss, are you okay?" Ling Yun asked, peeking through the door with cautious curiosity.
"Get the car ready."
"Got it, boss—AHHHHHH!"
"What now?"
Ling Yun pointed, face pink. "There's blood on the sheets!"
Jun Feng blinked.
Blood?
Oh no.
No. No. No.
A groan escaped him as the realization hit. She'd been a virgin.
No wonder she hadn't left immediately. Was she expecting flowers? Breakfast in bed? A damn proposal?
"Call housekeeping and have this cleaned."
His eyes caught the gold card still lying on the ground.
"Find her and give her the card," he muttered. "I don't need her showing up again and accusing me of anything."
From experience, he knew women always looked for a way to trap him
One crisis at a time.
First, he had to end this marriage he never wanted in the first place, then he would deal with her.