TROY POV

Her breath hitched the moment my hand grabbed her waist.

Very dramatic. Very exaggerated.

I felt it.

The tremor beneath my palm.

The way her body stiffened, like she was bracing for something she didn’t understand.

I’ve touched countless women.

Confident ones.

Desperate ones.

Pretending ones.

But this… this was different.... And I'm pissed.

This one felt like she didn’t belong here.

And yet, she came.

The room was dim, wrapped in soft gold light.

Music played low in the background, something slow, something forgettable. None of it mattered.

Not when she stood in front of me like that… fragile, breathing too fast, eyes unsure but trying to be bold.

I stepped closer.

Close enough to feel the warmth of her skin. Close enough to hear the uneven rhythm of her heartbeat.

She smelled… clean. Like rain. Like something untouched by the kind of world I lived in.

My thumb brushed lightly against the curve of her waist.

She shivered....I ignored.

Then I bit her neck softly... She shivered.

Not the kind meant to seduce.

The kind you don’t fake.

“You’re shaking,” I said, my voice low, steady.

“If you’re scared, you can leave.”

She shook her head too quickly. “I’m not scared.”

A lie.

A terrible and annoying one.

“Liar.”

My hand slid slightly, testing her reaction. Her body betrayed her instantly...tense, uncertain, waiting. I leaned in, my lips hovering beside her ear, dragging slowly down toward her cleavages.

Her breath broke.

That was when I knew.

Not from her words. Not from her face.

From the way she froze.

Completely.

Like no one had ever been this close before.

I stopped.

Immediately.

She blinked, confused, her lips parting slightly.

“Why did you stop?”

I stepped back, putting space between us before instinct could take over.

“You’re a virgin,” I said flatly.

It wasn’t a question.

Silence answered me anyway.

My jaw tightened.

Annoyance. Sharp and immediate.

“What the hell are you doing here then?”

Her eyes glossed over, but she didn’t speak. Didn’t defend herself. Didn’t lie again.

That made it worse.

“I don’t do this,” I continued, my tone colder now.

“If this is your first time, you picked the wrong man.”

Because I would ruin her..... I'll devour her, leaving her traumatized.

And I wasn’t in the mood to feel sorry about it later.

“I… I didn’t know what else to do,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together. “Please… just continue. I can handle it.”

Something in me snapped.

“Handle it?” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t even know what that means.”

Her shoulders shook, but she forced the words out anyway.

“The woman who brought me here… she’ll be furious if I go back without money. My mom is dying. I need to pay for her treatment.”

There it was.

The part I hated.

The story.

The kind that sticks under your skin and makes you feel something inconvenient.

I turned away, running a hand through my hair.

Damn it.

“I’m not the kind of man who forces a woman,” I said, my voice hard again.

Controlled. “Get dressed and get out.”

“Please…”

I didn’t let her finish.

I grabbed a stack of cash and threw it onto the floor between us.

“Take it. It’s enough,” I said. “Now leave.”

She stared at it like it weighed more than it should.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” I snapped. “Just don’t come back.”

She bent slowly, picking it up like it might disappear if she moved too fast.

No drama. No scene.

She just… left.

Head lowered. Silent.

And somehow, that silence lingered longer than any scream.

The door clicked shut.

I exhaled.

The room felt different now. Too quiet. Too still.

Her scent was still there.

And I hated that I noticed.

“Damn it,” I muttered, pouring a drink.

I did the right thing.

So why did it feel like I’d just let something slip through my fingers?

Pathetic.

HELEN POV

The elevator doors slid open, and the cold air hit my face.

I didn’t realize I was crying until the wind touched my cheeks.

My hands tightened around the money.

So much money.

Enough to help.

Enough to breathe again… for a while.

I should feel relieved.

He didn’t touch me.

He didn’t force me.

He didn’t take what I came there to give.

So why did my chest feel so… empty?

I stepped outside, the city lights blurring in my vision.

Troy Stones.

Everything about him felt dangerous. The way he looked at me… like he could see through every lie I tried to hold together. Every fear I tried to hide.

And he did.

He saw me.

That was the scariest part.

Kind?

No.

I swallowed hard.

Not kind.

Pity.

That’s what it was.

He pitied me.

The realization burned deeper than anything else.

I looked down at the money in my hands

again.

Heavy.

Not just in weight… but in meaning.

I went there ready to sell myself.

And he refused to buy.

My chest tightened.

Why did that hurt?

Why did it feel like rejection?

A taxi pulled up in front of me, and I got in quietly, my voice barely steady as I gave the hospital address.

As the car moved, I leaned back, staring at the cash again.

This should feel like salvation.

Instead, it felt like something else entirely.

Like I had crossed a line… and still didn’t make it to the other side.

A shaky breath left my lips.

“I almost did it…” I whispered to myself.

The words felt unreal.

I should hate him.

For looking down on me.

For making me feel small.

For seeing me at my worst.

And yet…

I closed my eyes, his voice echoing in my head.

“If you’re scared, you can leave.”

He gave me a choice.

And somehow, that made everything worse.

Because now I didn’t know what I felt.

Gratitude?

Shame?

Anger?

All of it twisted together until I couldn’t separate them anymore.

I tightened my grip on the money again.

“This is for Mom,” I told myself firmly.

That’s all this is.

Nothing more.

Nothing else.

But no matter how much I tried to convince myself…

I could still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin.

And I hated that I didn’t want to forget it.