The Supermodel's Comeback: Too Gorgeous To Be Yours Again

Daylight lingered above Onistin, yet a surge of dark clouds crept in, swiftly blotting out the last rays.

Within the penthouse, every lamp glimmered, wrapping the open space in warmth while city lights flickered beyond the endless glass.

Droplets slid down foggy panes as Cheryl Blake pressed close to the floor-to-ceiling window, hair slicked to her brow. Her silk robe clung loosely at her hips, skin flushed and luminous.

Thunder cracked through the night, swallowing Cheryl's soft gasp as her body trembled at its peak.

The man retreated, his heat dissipating, leaving her to shudder in the cold left behind.

Before relief could settle, strong arms caught her and whirled her back, reigniting the blaze in her blood. She was swept up like a surfer battling wild surf, utterly carried by the surge.

Moments blurred together, time slipping away. Again and again, darkness threatened to claim her, only for new waves of rapture to pull her back.

Rain gathered along the window ledge, turning the air heavy and thick with moisture.

Dawn crept in, pale and hesitant, as Cheryl felt the man's weight return. He pinned her wrists, tracing the tiny red mole beneath her eye with calloused fingers.

A voice, deep and jagged as broken glass, sent shivers down her spine.

"Any idea who I am? You had the nerve to slip into my bed. Quite daring, don't you think?"

Something in his tone-a razor's edge of seduction and danger-made Cheryl's heart leap and nearly falter, panic mingling with the wildness of her dream.

With a gasp, she dragged in deep breaths of air, grounding herself as the last wisps of the dream faded.

A shrill vibration from her phone jolted Cheryl, and seeing Rodger Dale calling made her frown deepen.

Rodger's ruthless proposal from a week ago still echoed in her thoughts.

"Cheryl, you've met Shane-the Warren family's golden boy, right? Do me a favor. Sleep with him just once. I'm head over heels for your sister, and if she gives up Shane, she'll finally be mine. You'll help me out, won't you?"

His words had landed like a slap from a stranger, and Cheryl could still picture that smile stretched across Rodger's face.

Her response had been sharp. "There are plenty of women dying for a shot at Shane. Why does it have to be me?"

Rodger's answer was cold and quick. "You're Zoey's most hated sister-the last person she'd want to see with him."

Dropping her gaze, Cheryl let a wry, mocking smile play on her lips as she answered on the final ring.

"What's up, Roddy?" Her tone was sweet and agreeable, practiced to perfection.

A pause lingered before Rodger spoke. "There's a party tonight. Shane will be there."

So that was his angle.

"Sure thing, I'll be there," Cheryl replied, her voice carrying easy warmth as if nothing at all was out of the ordinary.

Instructions rolled off Rodger's tongue with no room for argument. "The driver's got your outfit. Put it on," he instructed, tossing in casually. "That big Echo Reverie spring-summer retro show finale? Let Zoey take your spot. I'll line something else up for you."

His assumption that everything would just fall into place made Cheryl want to laugh at his arrogance.

From the beginning, Zoey Blake, her half-sister, did everything possible to block Cheryl from the Blake Group, convinced she would try to steal family wealth.

Cheryl had never wanted a fight. Then, modeling happened to come into her life.

Steering clear of Zoey and her family had seemed simple enough-until Zoey got bored and chased after modeling herself last year.

With the Blake name and Rodger's connections, Zoey shot up overnight, landing jobs that should have belonged to Cheryl.

One moment of Zoey's whimsy flipped Cheryl's world upside down, with Rodger always pulling strings in the background.

Time after time, he tossed Cheryl's hard-won opportunities to Zoey, barely bothering to pretend it wasn't deliberate.

That was the way it had always been. Whenever Zoey wanted something-even if it was Cheryl's-she was expected to hand it over.

The explanation was never complicated.

Zoey, after all, was the legitimate daughter-Rodger's favorite, the one he would do anything for.

Cheryl, on the other hand, was a nobody struggling just to breathe in their world.

"Whatever you want, Roddy," Cheryl murmured, surrendering without protest.

The call ended, Rodger's satisfaction practically audible in the silence.

A glint of cold settled in Cheryl's eyes as she unlocked her phone and edited Rodger's contact name, switching it from Roddy to Jerk with a small, bitter satisfaction.

A slow exhale calmed her nerves before she pushed herself to her feet and stepped under the hot stream of the shower.

Thirty minutes later, her phone buzzed with a call from the Dale family's driver.

Answering the door, Cheryl accepted the garment bag-and even with her nerves steeled, the revealing silk dress inside still managed to catch her off guard.

Words hovered on her lips, but she swallowed them. Complaints would fall on deaf ears.

Instead, she disappeared into her bedroom to change.

Standing in front of the mirror, Cheryl looked every inch the showstopper-her beauty bold enough to halt traffic, skin smooth as porcelain, her gaze pure temptation.

A single red beauty mark below her eye only made her allure more unforgettable.

Her silhouette was flawless, sculpted and perfectly balanced-nothing artificial about her appeal.

When Cheryl finally emerged, the driver risked a glance, cheeks reddening before he looked away. "Are you ready, Miss Blake?"

A silent nod was her answer.

Nocturne was the kind of place only the city's elite could enter-a playground for Onistin's richest and most powerful.

Curiosity danced in Cheryl's eyes; she had never been here before, and every detail pulled her in.

Her escort guided her through a velvet-roped VIP entrance, leading her directly to the exclusive upper floor.

Inside, the air was thick with cigar smoke, swirling in the dimly lit private suite.

Pushing through the door, Cheryl was hit with a thick wall of smoke that made her cough, eyes stinging from the haze.

Masking her irritation, she found Rodger through the blur and forced a bright smile. "Rodger."

A quick glance ran over her revealing dress, but Rodger barely reacted, simply gesturing her over with a careless wave. "Cheryl, over here."

She crossed the room with practiced poise. "Coming."

Every movement drew attention-the silk clung to her figure, bare legs shifting confidently as she glided forward.

Her back was nearly exposed, shoulder blades catching the dim light, her skin luminous and impossibly smooth.

Ignoring the predatory glances that followed her, Cheryl swept her gaze across the crowd, careful not to let her scrutiny show.

One figure drew her attention in the southwest corner.

Reclining with effortless confidence, the man sat with legs crossed, his stare calm, the light silhouetting him and casting a mysterious, dangerous edge over his features.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes met-his gaze cool, her heart thudding in response.

A thrill shot through Cheryl as she remembered her purpose, every nerve alight with a cocktail of nerves and excitement.

A wolf whistle cut through the haze. "Who's the bombshell you brought tonight, Mr. Dale? Don't be stingy-aren't you going to introduce her?"

Another chimed in with admiration, "She's got that A-lister vibe. Looks like she belongs on the big screen, not in here with us!"

Wilbur Owen, oozing self-assurance, slapped his date's hip in passing, sending her away without so much as a second thought. He winked at Cheryl and offered, "Come over here and have a seat, gorgeous."

The woman tossed Cheryl a venomous glare before sauntering off.

Cheryl kept silent, all her focus lasered in on one goal-making her move on Shane Warren. She had zero interest in bantering with these lightweight party men.

Rodger waited for the teasing to subside before offering a smooth introduction. "This is Cheryl Blake-one of my agency's models. She's off tonight, so I thought I'd show her around. Figure she might land some jobs if you get to know her."

A booming laugh erupted from Wilbur. "Come on, Rodger, since when do your models need to schmooze with the likes of us?"

Rodger sidestepped the mockery with a polished grin, nodding toward Cheryl. "Why don't you find a seat, Cheryl?"

The cue was clear. Cheryl slipped through the crowd, eyes locked on her destination-the southwest corner.

Passing Wilbur without a pause, she left him sitting there, mouth agape.

"Hell!" A muttered curse slipped from him as she breezed by, but any complaint died on his lips when he saw where she was headed.

Every conversation in the room screeched to a halt. Heads turned, and a hush fell as Cheryl claimed the empty spot next to that man in the corner.

Shock rippled through the crowd. Even Wilbur was floored. No one missed it.

Shane had barely been back in Onistin a week, and Wilbur had thrown this whole party just to welcome him home.

This bunch had history-a pack of childhood friends, always stirring trouble.

Still, Shane belonged to a whole different world. His paternal grandfather wielded serious political muscle, his aunt navigated international diplomacy, his father held a general's rank, his mother shattered scientific records, and his mother's father was rumored to have more money than the rest of them combined.

No one in Onistin rivaled the Warren family-power and wealth were theirs in equal measure.

Most of the time, Shane kept to the shadows, rarely mingling with them. The pecking order was ruthless, and Wilbur only managed to connect with the Warren family thanks to his grandfather.

Tonight was a stroke of pure luck for Wilbur-Shane hardly ever showed his face at these parties.

Stories about Shane were legend. He never chased after women. He was untouchable, ice-cold, and every inch the class act.

So what was Cheryl thinking, sidling up to him like it was nothing?

She was practically poking a bear, gambling for a reaction that could burn her.

Anxiety prickled at Wilbur's palms. He half-rose from his seat, ready to yank Cheryl away from the fire-until a strong grip pressed him back down.

Spinning in surprise, Wilbur met Rodger's eyes.

Rodger lifted his glass with a relaxed grin. "Cheers."

A moment's hesitation passed, then understanding flashed in Wilbur's narrowed eyes.

Cheryl was being used, a pawn in Rodger's little game.

If Shane even blinked the wrong way, Cheryl could vanish from Onistin in a heartbeat.

Rodger wasn't just heartless-he was downright dangerous.

Even so, Wilbur had no intention of missing a front-row seat to the fireworks about to go off.

If things blew up with Shane, Wilbur had an easy out-Rodger would take the fall.

Clueless to her starring role in this living soap opera, Cheryl took her place at Shane's side, hands trembling as she poured whiskey to the brim of his glass.

A slip of her nerves sent expensive liquor splashing over her wrist.

She barely paused to wipe it away, blurting, "Sorry, Mr. Warren! Let me fetch you a clean glass-"

Shane passed her a napkin, his motion easy and measured.

"Take it slow, Miss Blake," he replied, his tone velvet-smooth, his gaze barely drifting in her direction.

There was nothing arrogant about him in that moment-just an ordinary man, no hint of the legendary aloofness.

A quick bite to her lip and Cheryl murmured a quiet thanks, voice barely audible.

The private suite stretched wide, with Shane tucked at the farthest edge, well out of Wilbur's range for eavesdropping or prying eyes.

Frustrated, Wilbur twisted back to Rodger. "You're really okay tossing Cheryl into this mess?"

Rodger halted mid-sip, a smirk curving his lips. "She's nothing special, Wilbur. Zoey outshines her in every way."

Memories of Cheryl's lingering perfume flickered through Wilbur's mind, and a rare pang of sympathy struck him. "She's stood by you for eight years. She's Zoey's half-sister-even if she isn't legitimate, she's still family. You can't just-"

Rodger's words sliced in, cold and final. "Listen, Wilbur. If Cheryl doesn't end up in Shane's bed, Zoey won't ever let him go."

A heavy silence settled over Wilbur.

Details about the whole situation were fuzzy for most, but Wilbur had picked up enough to connect the dots.

Ever since they were kids, Zoey had been obsessed with one dream-marrying Shane and claiming the title of his perfect wife.

Nothing else mattered to her-not even the fact that her childhood friend Rodger was still hopelessly devoted.

All Zoey could see was the Warren family name and the prestige that came with it.

It didn't hurt that Shane's mother and Zoey's mother were inseparable in college, best friends with a knack for plotting their kids' futures.

Years before any of them were even born, an informal engagement had been put in motion.

In their world, everyone treated Shane as Zoey's destined fiancé, even if nothing was written in stone.

Zoey wore the "future Mrs. Warren" act like a designer label, never missing a chance to flaunt it.

Wilbur's curiosity finally got the best of him. "Tell me this-what makes you think Cheryl's got any shot with Shane?" Sure, Cheryl was striking, but Shane had seen it all.

Rodger's gaze slid toward Cheryl, his expression unreadable. "Sometimes you just have to gamble and see how the cards fall."

With a grunt of admiration, Wilbur gave Rodger a nod.

Zoey's loathing for her half-sister ran deep. Anything with Cheryl's fingerprints on it, Zoey wouldn't touch-not then, not ever.

That was the gamble Rodger was counting on: throw Cheryl into Shane's orbit and hope it would finally make Zoey back off. As much as Wilbur doubted the odds, he had to admit-it was a gutsy play.

The private room was dimly lit, giving off a warm and moody vibe. Shane's tall figure blocked most of the light behind him, helping Cheryl stay hidden in the shadows. It kept unwanted eyes off her.

She tilted her chin, trying to catch his attention and maybe start a conversation. But Shane's cool, detached demeanor made it clear that he wasn't interested. He didn't give her an inch.

Cheryl sighed quietly.

He really was a tough nut to crack.

The evening dragged on, and not once did she get a chance to talk to him. She lingered on the sidelines, feeling more and more invisible, while Shane mingled with others like it came easy to him.

Rodger had picked up on it too. His brows pulled together in a tight frown.

Wilbur leaned toward him with a teasing grin. "Looks like your little plan didn't work, huh?"

Rodger's expression didn't change. "I thought Cheryl would do better than this."

It looked like Cheryl wasn't Shane's type.

Later, as the party came to an end, Cheryl walked behind Rodger and stole a few glances at Shane. But not once did he look her way.

Wilbur, who was a little drunk by now, tried to throw an arm around Shane's shoulder. But halfway there, he chickened out and pulled back awkwardly. "Shane, come on, we go way back, don't we? We should catch up sometime! Oh, and about that Osetan project, I'll bring the proposal to Warren Group myself tomorrow."

That was what this whole party was really about.

Shane's reply was cool and effortless. "Don't bother making the trip. My assistant will collect it."

Wilbur lit up like he had just scored big. "No trouble at all!"

"It's no trouble for us either," Shane said, deadpan.

Cheryl overheard the whole thing. Watching Wilbur try so hard to please Shane, she couldn't help but think how desperate he looked.

Shane sending someone else meant Wilbur wasn't getting any special attention. It was just the usual way of doing business.

But Wilbur didn't notice, still smiling like he was Shane's best friend.

"Cheryl," Rodger called out firmly.

She quickly looked up, but her eyes were still fixed on Shane.

Unfortunately, he still paid her no attention.

"See Mr. Warren out," Rodger said, clearly giving her one last chance to make a move.

Cheryl's heart jumped at the opportunity, and she instinctively moved a little closer to Shane. But his distant voice cut her off.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Blake," he said flatly, offering her a fleeting glance before looking away.

A chill ran down Cheryl's neck.

Shane's eyes stayed on her just a second longer before he added, "I've got something to take care of." Then he walked off without another word.

Rodger's expression tightened, but he held back his frustration. As soon as Shane left, he turned to Cheryl. "Didn't expect you to mess this up so badly, Cheryl."

Cheryl blinked, trying to look innocent. "He's just not into me. What am I supposed to do?"

Rodger regarded her with disappointment. He was clearly about to say something when a familiar voice rang through the room.

"Cheryl!"

Cheryl recognized that voice immediately.

Perfect timing. She had been itching to get out of there.

With a quick, sly grin, she turned and took off.

Zoey stormed in, wearing a dramatic red dress and a furious expression.

Rodger stepped in front of her and tried to calm her down. "Why are you here?"

Zoey let out a bitter laugh. "Are you seriously asking me that? If I'd shown up a minute later, would Cheryl already be in bed with my fiancé?"

Zoey, who had always been spoiled and used to getting her way, hated it when people tried to steal from her. She shoved past Rodger and went after Cheryl.

Meanwhile, Cheryl had already run down the hallway in the direction Shane went. It felt like the corridor stretched on forever.

Panting for breath, she stopped and rested against the wall. Behind her, Zoey's loud shouting echoed like an annoying alarm.

Cheryl was fed up. She was tired of this whole mess. Let whatever was coming, come. She didn't care anymore.

She leaned back against a door, and to her surprise, it opened behind her. She stumbled backward, straight into someone's steady arms.

A cool scent surrounded her, and then a low chuckle came from above her head.

"Miss Blake, you really do have a talent for falling into men's arms, don't you?"