I Feared My Love's Return

Luna's POV

The moans from the bedroom had turned into grating white noise, like a crappy porno on endless loop. I highlighted another awkward line in the script, zeroed in on fixing the dialogue before tomorrow's make-or-break meeting.

Just wrap it up already, you two. Some of us have real shit to handle.

I nursed my ice-cold coffee, turning the hotel suite's living room into my makeshift war room. The woman—hell, I couldn't even recall her name, just another notch in Chase's revolving door of hookups—belted out another over-the-top cry.

"Oh fuck, Chase, yes! Pound my tight little pussy harder—deeper, baby!" she wailed, her voice bouncing off the thin walls. "You're so huge, you're splitting me apart!"

"Take it all, you filthy slut," Chase growled, his hips slamming with those wet, rhythmic slaps. "Clamp that cunt down on my cock—yeah, just like that. Beg for my cum, you greedy bitch!"

"Fuck me, Chase! Fill me up—make me yours!" she screamed, her moans crumbling into ragged gasps. "I'm cumming—oh God, yes, cum inside me!"

His roar ripped through the air, raw and victorious: "Fuck yeah, take every drop! You're mine tonight!"

It was almost laughable how Chase Anderson, my fake fiancé, kept up that golden-boy act in public. That killer smile, the designer suits, the slick charm—it suckered everyone but the unlucky ones who saw the real him up close. A total asshole with a stutter that popped out whenever he lost his cool.

Three years back, I'd never pictured myself in this hell. Dad's gambling habit had buried us under a $180 million debt avalanche, ready to bury us alive. Then the Andersons swooped in like sharks, offering to erase it all—with one catch: marry their entitled brat of a son.

I could still picture that stifling family dinner where they dropped the bomb.

"Luna, darling," Margaret Anderson had cooed, her smile like a razor blade, "Chase has had a crush on you since college. What better way to join our families than a wedding?"

William leaned in, all authoritative bullshit. "Your father's debts vanish. Your family's name stays clean. All we ask is you give our boy a shot."

And Chase, playing the chivalrous prince, reached for my hand. "I know it's out of nowhere, Luna, but I've loved you for years. I'll wait as long as it takes."

What a load of crap.

I'd been hustling ever since, pouring every directing paycheck into chipping away at that debt. My plan? Pay it off and bail on Chase and his clan for good. For two and a half years, he'd acted the patient suitor, murmuring lies about "no rush" to seal the deal.

But six months ago, the screws tightened.

"Luna, sweetie," Margaret cornered me at a gala, "Chase is getting antsy. This engagement's gone on long enough, don't you agree?"

William was blunter in a one-on-one: "My son's not waiting forever. Time to make it real."

Chase played the good guy: "Mom, Dad, ease up. Luna'll say yes when she's ready. I'm not going anywhere."

Crushed under their tag-team pressure, I cracked and accepted the ring. Not out of love—just desperation, a lifeline in the storm. Even engaged, I wouldn't let him lay a finger on me. That's when his facade shattered, and the side chicks started parading through. He hid it at first, then realized I didn't care—which pissed him off more. Now he rubbed them in my face, fishing for jealousy I'd never give.

The bedroom door flew open. Chase sauntered out buck-naked, not even bothering to cover his junk. Objectively, the guy had a killer body, but it left me stone-cold. No spark, no nothing.

"Baby, that was amazing," the woman purred, trailing him in a tangled sheet. She was peak Instagram bait: plumped lips, chiseled cheeks, and eyes as vacant as her flattery. "Next time, I'll show you that mouth trick I mentioned."

Chase smirked at me like he'd won the lottery. "W-why can't you be more like her?" he snapped, that stutter kicking in as he tried to flex. "She knows how to p-please a real man."

I kept my eyes on the script. "I'm working, Chase."

"All you do is w-work," he sneered, grabbing a water from the minibar. "Cold as ice, Luna. A frigid bitch no one can melt."

"If you say so." I marked another line, swallowing the familiar ache in my chest.

The woman giggled, loving her spot in his petty game. "That script must be riveting. I'd be flipping out if my fiancé was balls-deep in someone else."

"I'll tell you what's riveting," Chase said, yanking her against him and squeezing her ass. "That tongue thing you did. Blew my mind—and my load."

I finally glanced up, face blank as a wall. "You done? I've got an 8 a.m."

Chase's cheeks flushed red—he hated how I never bit. "Get her out of here," he barked, stutter gone in his rage. "Now. I'm done looking at both of you."

"I can grab a cab," she muttered, squirming under the vibe shift.

"No," Chase shot back, storming to the bedroom. "Luna drives you. Make her useful for once."

Total dick.

I saved my file and snapped the laptop shut. "Let me know when you're dressed," I said flatly. "I'll wait downstairs."

Forty minutes later, I was cruising Vale's slick, rainy streets solo, after dropping Chase's fling at her door. I cranked the radio, anything to mute the storm in my head.

"...financial powerhouse Gabriel Ashford is back in Vale after three years in London," the anchor droned. "The Ashford heir is stepping up as CEO of Legacy Media, the entertainment giant where..."

My hands clenched the wheel. Gabriel. The name hit like a gut punch, yanking me back three years. Our secret college fling—the stolen kisses, the adrenaline-fueled risks because his bitch of a mom hated my "trash" roots. The way he'd fuck me raw, erasing the world in a blur of sweat and breathless vows.

Headlights blinded me, snapping me out of it. I'd veered into oncoming traffic. I yanked the wheel, but it was too late—metal screamed, glass exploded, and everything spun into a dizzying blur.

Shit, shit, SHIT!

I kicked my door open, stumbling into the pouring rain, my shoulder screaming in pain.

The Bentley's back door opened with a smooth click. A tall shadow stepped out, umbrella snapping open as he approached like a predator closing in.