Mistakenly In Bed With The CEO

The door swung open, and before she could realise what was happening, Naomi felt a slap land on her cheek, and her eyes flew open.

Meredith, her stepmother, stood towering above her, palm still raised and fury burning in her narrowed eyes.

"Get up, You lazy thing! The guests will be here in hours and you're still in bed like some damn princess?"

Naomi sat up slowly, cradling her face with trembling fingers. Her cheek throbbed where Meredith's hand had landed. The satin sheets she had managed to pull over herself during the night were now tangled around her legs like chains.

Isabella stood by the bedroom door, arms crossed and a smug grin stretched across her flawless face. She wore a pale pink robe that hugged her curves perfectly, her golden hair flowing like she was auditioning for a shampoo commercial.

"You're such an embarrassment," Isabella added with a fake yawn, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "If I were you, I'd bury myself under that bed and never come out."

Naomi ignored her, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she struggled to climb out of bed. Her legs ached and her back hurt.

This had been her life since her mother died when she was three years old.

Her father remarried, hoping he could find someone who would be a mother to his little girl. He married Meredith, a woman with a pretty face and a rotten personality.

At first, Meredith was nice to her in pretence until she got pregnant and gave birth to her own daughter, Isabella.

Her father, Jacob Woods was a respected businessman, but within the walls of his estate, he was a puppet on strings pulled by Meredith's manicured fingers.

"Go get the cake from the bakery," Meredith ordered, adjusting her pearl necklace as she turned toward the mirror. "Tell them to double the gold frosting. If it looks cheap, don't bother coming back."

Naomi clenched her fists. "What about the guest list? You said you wanted me to..."

SLAP.

Another blow landed on her face before she could finish her question.

"Are you talking back to me?"

"No," Naomi whispered, tasting blood at the corner of her lip.

Isabella snickered. "Oh, don't be so sensitive. It's just a slap. You get them all the time."

Naomi walked past them silently, her head bowed.

Naomi walked into the city, she caught the subway into midtown Manhattan, her torn sneakers scuffing against the floor as she tried to stay low and invisible.

The bakery was nestled between a luxury spa and a boutique that sold dresses she'd only ever seen on people like Isabella.

As Naomi waited in line, her phone buzzed.

"You're coming tonight, right? I left something for you in the suite."

She blinked at the message, confused. It was from an unknown number.

She thought for a while and deleted it, perhaps it was not for her.

"Order for Meredith Woods?" the cashier asked.

Naomi nodded. She glanced down at the receipt. It was nearly $600 for a cake, it had a Gold-leaf frosting and a hand-painted sugar rose. The price of one cake could've paid her rent for three months if Meredith had ever paid her, to begin with.

As she left, a billboard across the street caught her eye.

Displaying on it was "Happy Birthday, Meredith Woods - New York's Classiest Socialite."

Naomi scoffed.

Back home, the mansion was a flurry of activity. Hired decorators swarmed the living room, hanging crystal chandeliers and floral garlands, waiters rehearsed tray service and Isabella pranced through the crowd like a hostess from an old Hollywood film.

"Go change," Meredith barked at Naomi. "And don't wear anything that makes you look better than Isabella. If I see one man looking at you twice, you're scrubbing toilets for a week."

Naomi went upstairs and opened her closet. There were just two dresses, one was black and fraying at the hem. The other was a faded lavender piece that used to belong to her mother.

She chose the lavender.

As she pulled the zipper up, her fingers lingered on the lace at the collar. Her mother had worn this to her engagement party.

She didn't have much memory of her mother though.

By 8 p.m. that night, the mansion glimmered like a palace. Guests arrived in limousines, laughter and champagne flowed in equal measure.

Meredith basked in the spotlight, flirting shamelessly with powerful men, her surgically preserved beauty glowing under the lights.

Isabella clung to the arm of a young hedge fund heir, tossing Naomi dirty looks whenever she passed.

Naomi had just ducked into the kitchen when Isabella followed.

"Tonight's going to be unforgettable," she whispered, handing Naomi a glass. "Drink and relax. You look tense."

Naomi frowned. "I don't drink."

Isabella smirked. "Live a little, it's my mum's birthday after all. You'll never get an opportunity like this again you know."

Naomi hesitated, this was unlike Isabella trying to be nice all of a sudden.

But she took a sip from the glass, before drinking the whole thing.

Isabella stared at her for a while with a huge mischievous grin before she walked away, but she was too tired to notice.

An hour later, everything was spinning. Naomi's body started acting up, and she started sweating intensively. Her limbs got weaker.

She stumbled up the stairs, confused and dizzy. The hallway was shimmering in her eyes, the doors blurring together.

Her hand closed on a golden handle. She pushed it open and walked in.

Isabella returned to the kitchen to fetch Naomi but didn't see her, she panicked for a while because she didn't want anything to ruin her plans.

She looked everywhere, amongst the guests, but didn't see her. She had intentionally drugged Naomi with GHB (gamma hydroxybutyrate), a party drug which is hard to detect if it's slipped into your drink.

She had sent a message to Naomi earlier with an unknown number to lure her to a room where she arranged for Naomi to be raped, but Naomi is nowhere to be found. Urghhhhh.

Back in the room, a man stepped out of the shower shirtless, his towel slung low on his hips and on his bed was a young lady breathing hard and trying to rip her dress off her body.