Chapter 2 You Can't Handle The Consequences

As the man entered the hotel room, he pushed Miranda against the wall. The cold metal of his belt buckle pressed against her abdomen, making her shiver slightly. He whispered in her ear, his breath warm and urgent, "Help me."

The room was pitch dark. Miranda, with shaky hands, reached for the belt buckle.

However, being inexperienced and a bit dizzy from the alcohol, she struggled to untie it.

Lifting her head, she sought assistance, saying, "I can't do it."

Her voice was so soft, stirring something in him.

He chuckled and offered, "Let me teach you."

His tone was tender and kind.

He reached out but hesitated as his palm covered the back of her hand.

"Huh? What's wrong?" She looked up at him, her cheeks reddening.

He held her hand gently, noticing a diamond ring on her left middle finger. With a puzzled look, he asked, "Are you engaged?"

"Yes."

"So you're here just for fun?" He looked at her intently, one eyebrow raised.

"Can't I?" Miranda replied with an indifferent smile.

If Edwin could sneak around with Maggie, why should she hold onto her integrity for him?

The man's gaze turned piercing, his eyes like daggers as he cornered her against the wall. His breath, once scorching, now chilled as he issued a warning. "You've got a fiancé. Don't even think about fooling around with me. I'm afraid you can't handle the consequences!"

"How can you be so sure unless you give it a shot?" Miranda asked, giving him a challenging gaze.

It was her way of asking, "Can't you handle it?"

Considering their sexual tension, it seemed alright for them to have a one night stand.

However, he refrained from intimate encounters with anyone in a committed relationship.

It would lead to complications.

But now, she was unbuckling his belt, her fingers deftly pulling at it while gazing up at him with big doe eyes.

The allure was undeniable.

He wasn't one to fuss around. He lifted her and gently placed her on the bed.

Miranda's kisses were fiery yet inexperienced.

Despite her boldness, fueled by alcohol, she was somewhat anxious. She gripped his collar tightly, bit her lip, and shivered.

He extended his hand and softly reassured her with a deep, husky tone, "Don't bottle it up. Just let it out!"

Following that, things spiraled out of hand.

The room was shrouded in darkness, with moonlight drifting through the window, casting shadows that danced with their movements.

Afterward, he got up and tenderly helped her clean up. A glimpse of red on the sheets caught his eye, causing a slight frown.

He never engaged in intimate relationships with women who had boyfriends or were virgins.

He dreaded getting caught up in complications.

Yet, tonight, he'd broken his own rules, one after another.

Beneath the moonlight, he lit a cigarette, his gaze lingering on the woman sleeping peacefully on the bed.

Her face was captivating, with alluring eyes. Clad in a dress that accentuated her slender waist, she was very tempting.

She was exactly his type.

Making an exception didn't seem like such a bad idea.

**

The following morning.

Waking up, Miranda felt sore and exhausted, her head throbbing. Memories of the previous night, including the man's distant, reserved face, flooded back.

She indeed had sex with a stranger last night!

As a doctor, she trusted her physical symptoms.

Her torn dress was a stark reminder of their wild night, yet the man was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished swiftly despite their intense closeness.

Taking a deep breath, Miranda noticed several items by the bedside: new clothes, underwear, a check for a million, and a box of morning-after pills.