Chapter 2 Sleep With a Stranger
Sarah POV
Shawn suddenly frowned at the shock on my face, and his gaze grew heavy.
"What, are you disappointed?" he asked, looking down at me. "Or do you have the courage to sleep with someone, but not the courage to confess?"
"Who said I won't confess!" I straightened up, hiding the guilt and panic in my eyes. "I just didn't expect it to be you. But what's done is done, so let's leave it at that."
A chilling threat emanated from his gaze.
My wrist ached as he deftly pinned me against the wall behind me. "Are you saying you don't care who you sleep with?"
"Shawn, what does this have to do with you?" I replied angrily, unable to break free.
Faced with his inexplicable rage, what bothered me most was the pungent smell of hormones mixed with his post-shower perfume, which, to my shame, made my knees buckle.
"Sorry, sorry." My temples throbbed; I was sure the effects of last night's drug hadn't fully worn off, which was why I was so embarrassed. "I really didn't know it was you. If I'd known it was you last night, I definitely wouldn't have... Ah!"
Would anyone have come but him?
My wrist suddenly tightened, causing worst pain.
"You must be upset," Shawn's cold, icy voice rang in my ears, "but, Sarah White, I'm not easy to sleep with."
I pressed my back against the wall, and he was too close.
I took a deep breath and lifted my chin, trying to sound conciliatory. "Look, you can't put all the blame on me. We're both adults, so let's pretend nothing happened as soon as we leave this room! Okay?"
"You might regret this," he warned in a low, deep voice.
"Do you agree? Then goodbye!"
I didn't pay much attention to the meaningful undertone in his quiet voice; I immediately pushed him away and ran from the room.
He watched my friend retreat hastily, his lips pressed tightly together, the expression in his dark, deep eyes subconsciously changing.
Shawn
My phone vibrated.
The photograph, taken at the entrance to the bar, showed a completely naked man clutching his head, an expression of unbearable pain on his face. It was clearly the same man with the short haircut I'd seen the night before.
My fingers slid to the link and opened it; the headline was startling: "Man Brutally Raped in Bar Escapes, Cries Naked in Street."
I read as I returned to the room, but my gaze remained cold and indifferent. Before closing the page, my hand slipped, and I clicked "Like"...
Having barely put down my phone, I looked up, frowning slightly.
On the nightstand by the bed lay a crumpled stack of money and a scribbled note: "Payment for last night."
My face suddenly contorted, turning cold as millennia-old ice. Was this woman really treating me like an escort?
Sarah White, you'd better come back here and wait for me!
Sarah
I was on the verge of a breakdown; I didn't even have time to mourn my lost virginity.
Only after running out of the hotel did I remember the problem: if I'd known it was Shawn Romano, why would I have left the money? Besides our long-standing grudges, now that I'd given him the money, what could I use for a taxi?
Luckily, the hotel was close to the newspaper office where I worked. After a night of sex that left my legs aching, I relied on sheer willpower to get to the office.
"Sarah, do you even have a sense of time? You've only been here a short time, and you already dare to be an hour late! Is this your work ethic? Do you think you're some kind of princess?!" Editor-in-Chief's voice echoed throughout the office: "You're losing your entire bonus for this month!"
Thinking about the money, I said hesitantly, with a hint of pain in my voice, "Editor, it's still ten to ten... You shouldn't deprive yourself of your entire bonus, right?"
"Are you questioning my decision? Or would you rather leave here?"
I bowed my head silently.
My father had made it clear that an important guest was expected at home today, and I needed to arrive early. I planned to ask for the afternoon off.
But compared to the lack of work, returning home didn't seem so important.
By the time I returned to the White mansion after working overtime, it was already seven in the evening.
The villa was brightly lit.
As soon as I entered, I heard my dad's voice, full of anger: “Sarah, look at the time! The guest has been waiting for half an hour!"
A fresh, slender figure sat leisurely on the sofa, his posture familiar to me, even though I couldn't see his face; the sofa only covered part of his back. This must be the Guest my father had mentioned.
"Only seven o'clock," I replied indifferently, a hint of hoarseness in my voice.
I had worked tirelessly all night and was exhausted all day. Leaving work early and returning home, I didn't even have time to drink water.
"Sister, you're back," Kate said, standing up and approaching me in her newly purchased Chanel suit. "Why didn't you come back all last night? You know how worried Mom and Dad were, right?"
Stepmother Liney was still sitting on the sofa with a slight smile. "Sir, sorry for the wait. Sarah probably didn't do it on purpose... she just forgot."
"Ah!" Kate exclaimed, pointing to my neck. "Sister, were you hit?"
The marks from last night were revealed to me when I arrived at the newspaper office.
I later grabbed my coat, but since my neck was the most injured, I couldn't hide it.
Dad, on the sofa, turned his head slightly upon hearing Kate's words.
His gaze turned cold when he saw the loose men's jacket I was wearing.
"It doesn't look like I was beaten..." Kate's voice was filled with concern and curiosity. "But, little sister, what are those red marks on your body?"
Dad, running up to me, immediately realized what they were. Anger was etched on his face; he seethed with rage, clenching his teeth.
The guest had come to discuss the pre-arranged marriage in White’s. Although it hadn't yet been decided who it would be with, it was simply shameful for me to be wasting time on such trivial matters!
"Don't be angry, Dad. Maybe Sister's just allergic," Kate feigned innocence, comforting him.
I knew it was pointless to say anything now: the medicine that caused this was undoubtedly Kate's.
"In any case, I'm back. Say what you want."
Seeing my indifference, Dad, in a fit of irritation, raised his hand to strike me.
"Mr. White," came a voice, clear, cold, and filled with undeniable authority, "I have no more time to waste here."
This voice made Dad's hand freeze in midair, and he immediately replied with a smile, "You're right, Mr. Romano. I apologize for the inconvenience of waiting."
I froze in place, unable to utter a word, looking at this figure.
