Chapter 3 Trapped by temptation

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Evanora stirred awake, her body sinking into unfamiliar, soft sheets as the first hints of daylight seeped through her closed eyelids. A dull, persistent ache pulsed in her head, and as she shifted, an unusual soreness in her limbs reminded her that this wasn't her bed, nor was it the morning she'd planned.

Her heart quickened, a sudden wave of disorientation washing over her. As she opened her eyes, a dim, elegant room slowly came into focus-a room she'd never seen before. She pushed herself up slowly, clutching the sheets to her chest as the fragmented events of last night drifted back to her in flashes.

She remembered the crowded club, the swirl of music and lights blurring together, and the haze of emotions she'd been trying so hard to escape. She had barely noticed anyone at first, consumed by her own thoughts, until something-no, someone-had caught her attention. A laugh, a warm smile across the room, and the thrill of making eye contact with a stranger who seemed to hold her gaze a little too long.

Her cheeks flushed as the memory deepened, her own voice lingering in her ears, playfully challenging him to take a chance. She could still feel the warmth of his hand as she'd reached out, fingers interlacing with hers, a gentle pull that had set her pulse racing.

Another wave of memories washed over her, clearer this time-their lips meeting, the tentative touch that quickly became something more. She had wanted it, had leaned into each moment, allowing herself to let go in a way she hadn't in so long. Her own laughter, soft whispers, and the way she'd felt his heartbeat against hers filled her mind.

Evanora closed her eyes, reliving the hazy intensity, every touch, every shared glance, and the quiet, thrilling surrender that had carried away her pain.

Rising from the bed, Evanora felt the weight of last night's recklessness settle heavily on her shoulders. Her legs were still weak, but she pushed herself to stand, instinctively pulling the sheets tighter around her bare skin. Scanning the floor, she spotted her wedding gown, and a dress she had wore inside tossed carelessly around the room, a harsh reminder of the impulsive decision she now wished she could undo. One by one, she gathered each piece, slipping into them while fragments of the night flickered in her mind like shadows-taunting, hazy, and raw.

She wore the dress and packed her hair in a ponytail.

The sound of water abruptly stopped, and her heart raced. She had to get out before he finished, before she had to face those dark, unnervingly seductive eyes again. She glanced toward the door, her hand reaching for the knob. She twisted it, but it didn't budge.

"Oh, come on," she muttered, jiggling it harder. Panic began to seep in as she glanced around, hoping for some sign of a key or a latch that would set her free. But just as she was about to tug on it again, she heard his voice, deep and dripping with a dangerous calmness.

"Going somewhere?"

The husky timbre of his voice washed over her like a warning, and she froze, her back still to him. She barely dared to breathe, feeling the intensity of his gaze without needing to turn around. It was magnetic, alluring, and so incredibly dangerous that she almost laughed out of sheer nervousness. Summoning a sliver of courage, she turned slowly, forcing herself to face him.

And there he was.

He leaned against the bathroom doorframe, wrapped in nothing but a towel, the steam from his shower swirling around him, framing his toned body like some forbidden fantasy. His dark hair dripped slightly, strands clinging to his forehead, and in his hand, a cigarette dangled loosely, sending tendrils of smoke curling into the air. His chiseled jaw clenched as his eyes met hers, and Evanora's breath caught in her throat. She'd thought she knew attraction, but this man-he was unreal, like something out of a feverish dream, someone who didn't just command attention but demanded it.

The way he looked at her, with eyes that held an unsettling mix of lust and intensity, sent a shiver down her spine.

"I didn't... I didn't think you'd still be here," she stammered, desperately trying to sound casual as she forced a smile. "Thanks for, uh... last night. I was just about to head out."

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze never wavering, and took a slow drag of his cigarette. "You're really going to pretend you don't remember anything?" His voice was dark, almost mocking, with a dangerous edge that made her pulse quicken.

She tried to laugh it off, glancing away as she tugged on the doorknob again. "Look, I was drunk. I don't remember much, so... just let me out, okay?"

But he didn't move. Instead, he tilted his head, scrutinizing her with an intensity that made her skin tingle. "So you're saying you don't remember the way you begged for me? The way you moaned my name while I-"

"Stop," she interrupted, heat rising to her cheeks. She laughed nervously, rolling her eyes as if he were some silly nuisance she could brush off. "Funny. But I know guys like you. Just trying to make me feel guilty or... I don't know, somehow indebted." She fished in her purse and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill, holding it up with a sarcastic smile. "Here's fifty bucks for your 'services,' alright? I'm sure that should cover whatever you think I owe you."

She tossed the money at him, letting it flutter to the floor between them, and turned her attention back to the door. But the room was silent except for the faint sound of his exhale as he took another drag from his cigarette. There was no anger in his expression, only something darker, something that made her chest feel tight.

"You think I'm just some guy you can pay to forget?" His tone was soft, almost a whisper, but laced with a threat that made her pause. "You don't know who I am, do you?"

She hesitated, her hand still on the doorknob. "No, and I don't care," she replied, forcing herself to sound braver than she felt. "Whatever this was, it's done."

But when she dared to look back at him, he was still watching her, his gaze holding her captive. And then, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, his eyes glinting with amusement. He seemed to find her defiance entertaining, almost as if he were toying with her, watching her every move with a predatory patience.

"You know," he murmured, his voice like velvet as he crushed the cigarette under his heel, "if you really didn't care, you wouldn't have that look in your eyes. I think you remember exactly how you felt last night, and it's scaring you, isn't it?"

The air between them grew tense, charged with an energy she couldn't deny. She clenched her jaw, trying to shake off the magnetic pull he seemed to have over her. She took a step back, but he moved forward, closing the distance until he was mere inches away, his hand resting lightly on the door beside her head, effectively trapping her.

Her heart pounded, and she could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of his skin mixed with the faint smell of smoke. She forced herself to hold his gaze, though it took every ounce of strength she had.

"I don't know who you think you are," she said, her voice shaking slightly, "but you're not scaring me. I don't need your... games."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent chills down her spine. "Games? You think this is a game?" He leaned closer, his mouth so close to her ear she could feel his breath against her skin. "If I wanted to play games, believe me, you'd know."

Her throat went dry, and she swallowed, trying to ignore the way her body reacted to his proximity, the way her skin seemed to tingle where his hand brushed against hers. He was too close, too intense, and for a second, she questioned everything she thought she knew about herself, about the boundaries she'd always kept.

But she couldn't give in-not to him, not to this.

"Open the door," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

He held her gaze a moment longer, studying her, his expression unreadable. And then, without a word, he stepped back, his hand falling from the door. She took a shaky breath, grateful for the space, though she could still feel the weight of his presence, like a shadow she couldn't shake.

As she turned the knob, the door swung open easily, and she glanced over her shoulder one last time, her heart pounding. He stood there, watching her with a look that was equal parts fascination and promise, as if he knew this wouldn't be the last time she'd find herself at his mercy.

And in that moment, a part of her knew it too.