Chapter 4 More than a mistake

MICHELLE'S POV

The early morning breeze at 5 AM stirred me from deep sleep. My eyes fluttered open to unfamiliar leather seats and the scent of expensive cologne lingering in the air. Panic shot through me as reality crashed down-I was in a stranger's car, covered only by his crisp white dress shirt.

I looked down at my body and my heart sank. The evidence was clear. Something had happened during the night, and the weight of that realization hit me like a physical blow. No one in their right mind would sleep with a stranger on the first night, but the alcohol had clouded both our judgment.

I turned to look at the man still sleeping beside me. Even in sleep, he was devastatingly handsome-sharp jawline with dark hair tousled against the headrest. His chest rose and fell steadily, peaceful in a way that made my heart ache with confusion. He looked... gentle and safe.

What have I done to myself? The thought echoed in my mind as guilt crashed over me.

I carefully reached for my small purse and gathered my scattered clothes from the car floor, trying not to wake him. My movements were slow, fighting against the lingering effects of the alcohol and the soreness that reminded me of our night together.

I slipped his dress shirt over my shoulders-it was far too big, covering more than half of my thighs, but it provided coverage in the cold morning air. The car door opened with a soft click.

I stepped onto the sandy pavement, my bare feet touching the cool ground. The beach was empty, I pulled his shirt tighter around me and began walking away, each step feeling heavier than the last.

Even if I was meant to meet someone I will fall in love with, it shouldn't have happened this way. Not on the first night. Not with a stranger whose full name I barely knew.

***

RAY'S POV

6:00 AM

"What!" I bolted upright, immediately regretting the sudden movement as my head pounded. "Oh goodness, when did she leave?"

I buried my face in my hands, the empty passenger seat confirming what I already knew. She was gone. I hadn't even thought to ask where she lived or which college she attended. All I knew was her name-Michelle-and that she was studying nutrition.

I looked around the car frantically, searching for my dress shirt. It was nowhere to be found. I was shirtless, and I needed to get home.

I started the engine and reversed out of the beach, driving bare-chested toward my penthouse across town. The morning air was crisp through the windows, and I couldn't stop thinking about her-the way she'd laughed at my joke, the surprise in her eyes when she'd tasted alcohol for the first time, the trust she'd placed in me despite being complete strangers.

I wasn't a saint. I'd been with women before, but I'd never felt guilt like this. There had been something different about Michelle-an innocence, a vulnerability that made last night feel like I'd taken advantage of her grief and inexperience.

I needed to find her, at least to apologize for last.

As soon as I reached my apartment, I made a mental note to have my personal assistant search every university in the state for students named Michelle in nutrition programs. It was a long shot, but it was all I had.

I headed straight for the bathroom, turning the shower to a warm setting. The splashing water doing little to wash away the memory of her.

I dressed quickly in one of my tailored brown suits, selecting a tie that matched. I was reaching for my watch collection when I heard the familiar sound of car doors closing outside-my driver Michael had arrived, and no doubt my personal assistant James was already downstairs, ready to brief me on the day's packed schedule.

During the week, I rarely drove myself. That luxury was reserved for weekends when I could escape the corporate world that had consumed most of my adult life. But today, Monday morning felt like a prison sentence.

My phone rang just as I was fastening my Rolex. I glanced at the screen.

Dad.

"Not this morning, please," I whispered, but I knew avoiding him would only make things worse.

I answered on the fourth ring. "Good morning, Dad."

"Have you checked the news this morning, Ray?" His voice came through sharp and urgent, tinged with something that sounded like panic.

"No, Dad. What's happening?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

"I want to see you in my house now!" He shouted before hanging up abruptly.

I reached for my laptop to see what had triggered his rage this time. The headline made my blood run cold: "Conglomerate Heir–Ray Whitney–Caught in Passionate Beach Encounter."

Below it was a grainy but unmistakable photo of Michelle and I locked in an intimate kiss on the trunk by the moonlit shore.

"Who could have done this?" I muttered, clenching my jaw as I stared at the invasive photograph.

This wasn't the first time paparazzi had targeted me, but the fact that I might be putting the young innocent lady in danger made me feel bad.

"Oh, poor girl," I whispered, studying the photo more closely. Thank God her face was obscured by shadows and my body – at least she will continue to a normal life after this.

I grabbed my phone and headed for the door. "Take me to father's house," I told my driver. "Before the office."

As he drove, I decided to let James know about the important task ahead.

"James" I called out, still looking at the news headlines, on my tab.

"Yes sir"

"I will be sending you a number now, track the person down" also I need you to check out a lady currently in her finals, her name is Michelle and she is in Nutrition department".

"Which of the universities sir?" he asked inquisitively."

"Please find that out " I responded. "And make sure you get it done soon."

"She is, averagely slim, beautiful and has long blonde hair", I went on trying to explain what she looked like.

"Alright sir".

"What time are we having the meeting with the production manager?".

"3pm sir" James answered.

"Alright".