The morning sun poured through gaps in the thick blackout curtains, coming to rest right on her closed eyes. Chelsea opened them to just a slit, wincing at the migraine that set in almost immediately. Her body felt like lead, like something was crushing her.

She looked around the room when her vision settled. Dark golden walls glowed from the sunlight, and a luxurious carpet covered the floor beneath her bed.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. This was yesterday’s… Was she still in a dream?

She put a hand up to her head and sat up, trying in vain to ease her headache, but the arm around her waist tightened its grip on her-

She froze as the haze clouding her mind cleared.

Why was there an arm around her?

How did she not notice the other person sleeping next to her?

She lifted the blanket slowly, anxiety and nervousness squeezing her heart. Like she had feared, her body was covered in bruises, and there wasn’t a shred of clothing on her.

Memories of what had transpired last night flooded into her mind…

***

She had sat down somewhere after having a few too many drinks, and someone had offered her to rest in a room. Her slurred refusals were met with silence, but she was too drunk to resist him as he led her to a hotel room.

She had opened the door after the man said something she didn’t quite catch, and stumbled into the room towards the bed.

By the time she realized someone else was in the room, his arm was already wrapped around her waist. She had been pinned down by her wrists the next second.

Their bodies pressed against each other, with only her thin dress separating their skin. The warmth from their bodies intermingled with each other, and from what little moonlight that spilled into the room, she had noticed the man seemed to be staring at her.

“So you’re the arrangement?” a low voice said. It was deep and magnetic, yet dripping with malice.

Even in her drunken state she knew that made no sense, but before she could ask what he meant, hot lips crashed against hers and cut off whatever thoughts she had. Her skirt was then torn from her body, her cries of protest ignored.

The alcohol she had consumed had hit her harder than ever at that moment, sending her mind into a haze. She laid there, half unconscious, muttering vague protests as he undressed her, but a stab of pain between her legs blast away her drunken stupor.

“No, stop!” she had screamed. “It hurts!”

The man paused in surprise. “You’re a virgin?”

The pain overwhelmed her. All she could do was pant to try and keep her tears from flowing.

He reached over to her face, brushing a strand of hair away. “Pretty little thing,” he said softly. Even in the darkness she could hear the smirk on his lips.

The last thing she remembered was him burying himself inside her.

***

Chelsea’s face had grown tomato red. She buried her face in her hands, trying to rid herself of the memory.

She turned her head to the side after a few moments, curious as to what the person looked like. What she saw made her breath hitch in her throat.

It was as if he was made by a master sculptor. Every feature was perfectly formed, from the long yet delicate eyelashes that curved softly upwards to how creamy and smooth his skin looked. Even in his sleep there was an inexplicable air of authority to him.

Having been in showbiz for so many years, Chelsea wasn’t a stranger when it came to good-looking men, but this person… he was practically perfect.

She reached out to touch his cheek, but stopped herself just before and sat up with a jolt.

She didn’t even know him! How on earth did she end up here?

Her face paled as a thought occurred to her. Had she been set up by someone? If news got out about what happened the rumours and media would devour her alive! She had to leave before he woke up.

She carefully removed the man’s arm from around her waist and got out of bed. A surge of pain shot from between her legs and up her spine, making her knees buckle as she yelped. She held onto the bedframe and grimaced, waiting for it to subside.

What the hell did he do?

She put on her tube top dress with much difficulty, and used the mirror to straighten out her hair. There wasn’t much she could do, considering there was nothing to comb it with, but it turned out a lot better than the mess she had woken up with.

Satisfied, she glanced back at the man with a mixture of anger and fear, then walked towards the door. She peeked out the hall, only limping outside when she was sure no one was around, using the wall to support herself as the left for the elevator.

***

His eyes opened the moment the door closed. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair as he looked silently at the door.

Outside, the bodyguards glanced at each other as they stepped out of another room, unsure of whether they should be chasing after the woman. They turned towards the older man behind them.

He thought for a moment, then stepped past them to knock on the door of the presidential suite.

“Come in.”

Inside the room, the man was in the middle of getting dressed when the door opened.

“Young Master,” the older man said, bowing deeply.

He gave no response. Instead, he put his shirt on, buttoning it up casually like he was the only one in the room.

That woman…, the older man wondered. Should we have stopped her?

Then again, he had worked for him for more than twenty years; the young master had always been indifferent about most things, so he didn’t dwell on it.

The man paused, now fully clothed, and lifted the comforter. He eyes narrowed imperceptibly at the drops of red underneath, thinking back to how his desire had overtaken him last night.

He had barely touched her, but just that one touch had sent his long-dormant body into a frenzy. What he was more surprised about, however, was the fact that the surge of disgust he usually felt when other women touched him wasn’t present.

She was… interesting.

He let go of the comforter and moved to a sofa, stretching his legs in front of him and staring his guards down with an air of regality none could match. He watched as they squirmed under his gaze.

“Speak.”

It was just one word, but it was enough to send tremors through their hearts.

The oldest in the group, Spencer Hughes, stepped forward and bowed. “It was my mistake, Young Master,” he said. “I shall accept whatever punishment you deem fit.”

He closed his eyes impassively, as if the other man hadn’t spoken. He looked like he was asleep, but Spencer knew he was in deep trouble. The more unconcerned he made himself out to be, the worse his anger- and the consequences- was. If he was willing to ask for an explanation, maybe there was still hope, but he was silent.

Spencer swallowed his nervousness. “My sincerest apologies, sir,” he said, trying to sound as calm as he could. “I shouldn’t have spiked your drink, nor should I have hidden the fact that your purpose for coming back home this time was for an arranged marriage with the Wilsons.”

However, even as he pleaded for forgiveness, deep down he was relieved. The Lady’s tactics were underhanded, sure, but at least now they had eased the one worry they all had for so many years.

The young master seemed to be averse to women. Even touching them seemed to disgust him. They had kept it a secret from outsiders, but it had gotten to the point where he’d recoil when his biological mother had touched him. Spencer couldn’t imagine what he was like with others.

Maybe they could’ve brushed it off as just inexperience if he was younger, but he was twenty-six, and not once in his life had he ever had a girlfriend. In fact, everyone that worked around him were men. Doubts about his sexual orientation had long since been on the minds of his family members.

It wasn’t that they had a problem if he did turn out to be gay, but the board of directors around him were nefarious, waiting for any chance they could get to tear the young master down so they could take his place. This was the best solution the Lady had to prevent that from happening, though even Spencer himself had to admit it was a little cruel.

“Who is she?”

He looked back up at the young master in surprise, then frowned apologetically. “This is a little awkward to say, but that wasn’t the woman we had planned for you.”

The man opened his eyes, staring wordlessly at him, his gaze piercing into his soul. A wordless demand to continue.

“Last night… A guard had thought she was the one I had arranged and led her into your room. But,” he paused awkwardly. “The actual woman came by soon after and we realized our mistake, but at the time… we couldn’t exactly replace her….”

Spencer had left it at that, but the implied meaning was clear enough.

Either way, Spencer thought to himself, the result was the most important thing here. As long as it proved the young master could still be attracted to women, it was fine. Whoever the woman was didn’t matter; at worst, they could just pay her off with a larger sum of money.

The young master’s eyes darkened.

If it weren’t for her, would he have had sex with whoever Spencer had arranged? A wave of disgust coursed through his body at the mere thought of that happening.

But, it was strange. Why was he fine with her?

He had enjoyed it, even.

“Find out everything you can about her,” he said finally. There was a glint in his eyes, different from his usual impassiveness.

“Yes, sir.”

The guards bowed and left the room.