Chapter 2 AFTERGLOW AND AFTERSHOCKS

The silence after Vivienne slammed the door was deafening.

Bella clutched the sheet tighter around her, her chest still rising and falling from everything Grayson had just done to her, and everything they'd nearly done. But the air had shifted. What had felt like a fantasy now hung in a fragile balance, trembling under the weight of exposure.

Grayson stood at the edge of the bed, tension rippling through his broad frame, jaw tight, shirt half-undone. She couldn't read him anymore.

"Who was she?" Bella asked, voice hoarse.

"My sister," he muttered. "Vivienne."

Bella swallowed. "She didn't seem... thrilled."

Grayson laughed bitterly, running a hand through his dark hair. "That's Viv for you. Always at the wrong place, making it worse."

She wanted to believe the moment wasn't ruined. That the heat still lingered between them. But now her heart thundered in her ears-for a very different reason.

"She's going to tell someone, isn't she?" Bella whispered.

"Of course she is," he said, turning to face her fully. "Because Vivienne doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut unless it benefits her."

He stepped forward again, slowly, like approaching something wild.

Bella's eyes dropped to the muscles flexing beneath his open shirt. She hated that her body still ached for him. That her thighs were sticky with need. That her lips were swollen from his kiss and she wanted more-even now.

Even after the door had slammed, and her lie was moments from exposure.

"I should go," she whispered.

His voice came low. Dark.

"No."

She blinked. "No?"

"I'm not done with you."

The hunger was back in his eyes, only now it was sharper-edged with something darker. Not just lust. Possession.

"You don't even know who I am."

"I know what your mouth tastes like," he said, stepping closer. "I know how you sound when I touch you. I know you lied, but I don't care."

"Grayson..."

"You think I've never dealt with secrets?" He knelt on the bed, one hand catching her ankle beneath the sheet. "You think I haven't lied to protect myself too?"

Her breath hitched as his fingers dragged slowly up her calf. "I could ruin you," she said, barely a whisper.

He leaned in, kissing the inside of her knee. "I'd let you."

She didn't stop him when he crawled higher, pulling the sheet away from her body inch by inch.

"You're trouble," he said, mouth brushing her inner thigh. "And I like trouble."

And then he was on her again.

His hands pinning hers to the mattress. His mouth claiming hers with fevered desperation. Their bodies tangled, burning, the ache between her legs returning full force.

She felt him, thick and ready, pressing against her thigh.

"Tell me to stop," he growled.

She didn't.

Instead, she reached between them, finding his belt, yanking it open with a snap.

Grayson inhaled sharply.

"Fuck, Bella-"

His name turned to a groan as she pushed his pants down, her fingers wrapping around him, stroking slowly.

"God, you're killing me," he rasped, pressing his forehead to hers. "I need to be inside you."

"Then take me."

It was all he needed.

He thrust inside her in one slow, devastating push-and they both gasped.

She was tight, slick, and hot around him. Perfect.

He stilled for a second, his jaw clenched, barely holding on.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"Yes," she breathed. "Move. Please."

And then he did.

Each stroke was deep, intense, making the headboard slam softly against the wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. Their rhythm built fast-moans mixing with the sound of skin on skin, lost in the frenzy of need.

Her nails scraped down his back. His lips found her throat.

He slid a hand between them, his thumb circling her clit in rhythm with his thrusts-and she came undone with a cry, her walls clenching around him.

"Bella-fuck-"

He followed with a shudder, buried deep, groaning her name like a prayer.

And for a moment... everything was still.

No lies.

No names.

Just heat, breath, and silence.

Twenty minutes later, she stood in the marble bathroom, staring at her reflection.

Her hair was tousled, lips bruised, body marked with his touch. She looked like a different woman-flushed with pleasure and drenched in guilt.

This wasn't her life.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

She was supposed to sneak into the gala, maybe steal a bottle of champagne, pretend to belong for one night... not end up in the bed of Manhattan's most eligible-and dangerous-billionaire heir.

She splashed cold water on her face.

But it didn't erase the memory of his hands.

Or the way he'd looked at her like she was real, when most men looked right through her.

She reentered the bedroom quietly.

Grayson was on the balcony, shirtless, smoking something slow. The skyline glowed behind him.

"You always sneak off after?" he asked without turning.

"No. I don't usually do this."

He turned then, eyes scanning her in the robe she'd thrown on.

"I believe you."

Her heart twisted.

"You said Vivienne would tell your father."

"She will," he said. "And I'll handle it."

"You don't even know my last name."

He stepped inside. Closed the distance.

"Then tell me."

She hesitated.

Everything inside her screamed don't.

But she wanted him to know her. To say her name without the lie between them.

"Isabella," she said finally. "Isabella Reyes."

His eyes didn't change.

"You still don't belong to anyone, Isabella?"

She shook her head slowly. "No."

His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb grazing her lower lip.

"You do now."

Before she could answer, the suite phone rang.

Grayson frowned, stepped away, picked it up.

A pause.

Then his face changed.

Stone-cold.

"I see," he said, voice clipped. "I'll handle it."

He hung up.

"What is it?" she asked.

He looked at her, the warmth gone.

"That was my father's assistant. Apparently, Vivienne had a camera crew waiting at the elevator. You've already made tomorrow's headlines."

Her stomach dropped.

He crossed the room, opened a drawer, and pulled out a black card.

"Go to the south tower. Room 1102. It's empty. Stay there. Don't check out. Don't speak to anyone."

"Are you... sending me away?"

"I'm protecting you," he said. "Until I fix this."

"And what if you can't?"

He looked at her then-something dark and dangerous burning behind his calm.

"Then I marry you."

Her jaw dropped. "What?"

"I'll make it a PR stunt. Turn the story around. Make it look like we've been seeing each other for months. Control the narrative."

"You don't even know me."

"I know enough."

She stepped back. "Grayson, that's insane."

"It's business," he said coldly. "This is my world, Bella. And now you're in it."

The elevator dinged.

Security's voice called from the other side.

"Mr. Langford. Your father is requesting your presence."

Grayson turned to her, jaw tight.

"Go to the room. I'll find you later."

And then he was gone.

Leaving her in a penthouse that no longer felt like a dream.

Only a trap.