As I slowly opened my eyes, my vision blurred and disoriented, the reality of my surroundings finally dawned on me. I was in a place that was most definitely not my home.
In fact, rather than being in a cramped and mundane room, I found myself lying in a sumptuously decorated bedroom; my naked body enveloped by the softest, silkiest sheets I had ever touched.
Rising up from the bed, my vision clearing with every passing moment, I turned to find the mysterious man standing before me, his voice soft and gentle.
"Ah, you're awake," he said, his tone warm and soothing. "How are you feeling?"
I stared at the man incredulously, my mind reeling with confusion and shock, but he merely chuckled and shot me a mischievous grin.
"You certainly have a wild taste," he said, his voice low and sultry.
I was seething with anger and indignation, but my tongue was tangled by the realization of my own shameful behavior.
I stood there, frozen in shock and terror, my mind still trying to process the events of the night before. But the man's words echoed in my ears, leaving no room for argument.
"Get ready," he repeated, his tone stern and authoritative. "I'll drive you home."
I could only nod, my body trembling with a strange mixture of fear and resignation.
The man's gaze softened as he saw my stunned expression, and he spoke again, his voice quieter now.
"I'll take responsibility for anything that happens to you," he said, his words hanging heavy in the air.
"But there's one condition."
I sobbed, tears streaming down my cheeks as I pleaded for answers. "Why did you bring me here? Where are we?"
The man stood before me, his expression cool and unflinching. "I brought you here because I don't like hotels.”
"And you... you took advantage of me in my drunken state!"
"We were both under the influence of alcohol.” He paused, his eyes locked on mine, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. "But I am willing to take responsibility... on one condition."
I was just about to angrily retort, but his phone rang, and he left the room. I sank down to the floor, tears rolling down my face as I gathered my discarded clothes.
A few moments later, another man entered the room. "Lady, master Ortiz sent me to drive you home."
I looked up at him, feeling dazed and disoriented. "Who are you?"
He answered with a gentle smile, "Just call me Raymond, Mr. Ortiz's assistant."
I felt puzzled, my brow creasing in confusion. "Mr. Ortiz?"
A sharp, crisp voice then intruded upon my thoughts, stating, "Yes, Mr. Rafayel De Ortiz. Please don't tell me you have forgotten that you spent the night in his home, Lady?"
The man's thin smile sent a chill down my spine as I struggled to recall the previous night's events.
After finally agreeing to be taken home, I reluctantly took Mr. Ortiz's business card from Raymond's outstretched hand.
He smiled politely as I accepted it, saying, "If you need anything, don't hesitate to contact us. The number is on the card."
"But why should I contact you?" I asked, confused.
Raymond smiled and responded, "Lady, I'm sure you're aware that Mr. Ortiz is a man of his word. Honestly, you're the first person to make him weak after his heart was broken.
"I don't understand," I protested. "We were just--"
"Lady, I apologize. I need to pick up young master Xavier. See you again soon." Raymond abruptly left after checking his watch, leaving me in shock.
Before I could say anything, my mom arrived with a worried expression.
My mom approached me with a worried expression, asking, "Leslie... where have you been? Why didn't you come home last night and why were you unreachable?"
I froze, realizing that my purse was missing. It wasn't with me. Had I left it at that man's house?
"What's going on, sweetheart?" My mom inquired, noticing my searching gaze.
"It's nothing," I replied. "I just can't find my purse."
My mom crossed her arms and looked at me with a disapproving expression, raising an eyebrow.
"What happened?" she inquired. "Why did you lose your purse? Where did you go last night?"
"I was just at a club with Bianca," I answered, trying to sound nonchalant. "I stayed at her place last night."
My mom cast an incredulous glance in my direction, clearly not convinced by my explanation.
She questioned me further, asking, "Then who was the man who drove you home?"
"Taxi," I mumbled.
My mom shook her head in disbelief, her voice filled with resignation.
"I'm not that stupid," she said. "I know that the man who drove you home was wearing formal clothes and driving a limousine with special plates reserved for the wealthy."
I shrugged off my mom's scepticism, quickly changing the subject.
"Anyway, I have to go," I said as I headed towards the door. "I've got a job interview at a restaurant today."
My mom smiled, pleased to hear about my upcoming interview, and handed me something.
"Here," she said, holding out a necklace with a tulips pendant. "Wear this. For good luck."
I took the necklace in my hands, examining the tulips pendant with a puzzled expression.
"Why are you giving me this?" I asked, mildly baffled by the unexpected gift.
My mom patted my arm and gave me a reassuring smile. "Just wear it for good luck. You never know, it might help you land that job."
"Thank you, mom." I hug her tightly.
Then I changed into suitable attire for my job interview at the high-end restaurant - a crisp, formal outfit consisting of a dark pantsuit, a classy blouse, and professional-looking high heels.
As I entered the restaurant, I was greeted by a man in a suit and tie.
"You must be here for the job interview," he said with a smile, extending his hand. "I'm Ernest, the HRD."
Ernest gave me a once-over, his gaze lingering just a little too long on my figure.
"Please follow me," he said, leading me towards a private room.
As we entered the private room, Ernest gestured for me to take a seat across from him. He settled into a plush armchair opposite me, his eyes still wandering over my body. I tried to ignore the uneasy feeling that I got from his gaze.
"So," he said, folding his hands in his lap. "Tell me a bit about yourself."
I cleared my throat and launched into my well-rehearsed introduction.
"Well," I began, "I just graduated with an MBA, and I've always been passionate about the restaurant business. I've worked in a few internships during my studies, and I believe that my skills and experience make me a perfect fit for this position."
As I rattled on about my qualifications, I couldn't help but notice that Ernest had leaned forward in his chair, his gaze fixed intently on my chest. He seemed to be paying more attention to my body than my words, his eyes taking in everything from my chest to my hips.
"Mhm," he murmured, not even trying to hide his interest. "You sound like a promising candidate."
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my unease growing with every lingering glance from Ernest. Despite my best efforts to focus on the interview, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was assessing me physically rather than professionally.
"Thank you," I replied, trying to maintain a polite expression. "I'm confident that I have what it takes to excel in this role."
As I finished speaking, Ernest leaned even further forward in his chair, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of interest and lechery.
"You know," he said, his voice dripping with insincerity, "I don't think you need to show me your portfolio. After all, why settle for a waitress position when you could have a much higher position if you were willing to... date me?"
"I'm sorry," I repeated, my voice firm. "I'm not here for that. I'm here for a job interview, and I'm not interested in anything else."
Ernest's smile faded slightly, and he leaned back in his chair, his expression turning cold.
"I see," he said, his voice hard. "You're going to play hard to get, huh?"
"Sorry, Sir." I mumbled.
As I spoke, Ernest's polite facade slipped, revealing a more menacing side. He abruptly stood up, striding around the desk to approach me. He grabbed my jaw with one hand, forcing me to look at him, while pinning my wrists with the other.
His grip on my jaw tightened, a sneer on his face. "You know, I like girls that play hard to get. It makes the game more interesting."
He leaned in closer, his intentions clear. I tried to pull away, squirming in his grip, but it only served to tighten his hold on me.
"Stop," I gasped, a hint of panic in my voice. "Let me go!"
Just as the situation seemed to reach its boiling point, the door to the room burst open. We both turned in surprise to see who had interrupted us.
“You’re jerk!”