Catherine stirred, half awake, a small, dazed smile tugging at her lips. Her body felt impossibly light, as if a heavy weight had been lifted. She hadn't slept this well in months.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she stretched, letting a long, lazy yawn escape, savoring how relaxed her once-aching muscles felt after a long night's rest.
Wait…
She froze suddenly as the realization hit her. She was naked.
Panic surged through her. She sat upright, clutching the duvet tightly against her chest. Her heart raced as her eyes scanned the room. No one was there. Her gaze fell on her clothes, scattered haphazardly across the floor.
"What the fuck?" she murmured, trying to piece the last fragments of her memory, but her mind was blank.
A sharp headache stabbed at her temples. "Ow…" she winced, pressing a hand to her forehead.
And then it all came rushing back. Her mood soured instantly, her eyes watering, her heart aching as if a knife had been driven through it.
The image of Kelly riding Matthew—their moans, their heavy breathing—was so vivid it made her stumble out of bed and rush to the bathroom to vomit.
She emerged from the bathroom, her face wet with water she had earlier splashed on it. She was weak and distraught when another wave of memory hit her.
A chill ran down her spine and she froze.
Her mind cleared, and the events of last night came rushing back at her. Jeremiah's face came into view, his eyes, dark and full of hunger gazing down on her. His large hands gripping her hips. His lips against her skin, kissing every inch of her body.
"Bloody fuck!" Catherine gasped and collapsed onto the floor. She brought her hands to her mouth in shock, eyes wide as she recalled how she shamelessly pleaded for him to fuck her.
It wasn't a dream? She thought wildly.
She had been half conscious the night before and had convinced herself it was nothing more than a drunken illusion. Fueled by the alcohol, she behaved without restraint just to find out it was real?
She felt distraught, her chest constricting painfully as the memory kept flooding in.
A knock sounded at the door and she jerked with a loud gasp. She let out a shaky breath.
"Who is it?"
"Jeremiah, your bodyguard." Jeremiah's voice came from behind the door.
Catherine's heart dropped. Cold sweat slid down her back and it felt like lumps had formed in her throat.
She cursed under her breath and couldn't bring herself to respond. Her head still throbbed from the hangover, and shame clung to her like a second skin. When she remained silent, Jeremiah spoke again.
"Would you like to extend your stay? We only paid for the night."
That was when reality fully settled in. She had bigger problems waiting for her. Matthew and her fucking stepsister.
The pain from the betrayal slammed into her at once. She was livid at the thought that Matthew could even do something like this to her. More so with her step sister. The very bane of her existence.
Matthew's betrayal was one she would never forgive. Her heart felt wounded beyond repair, broken beyond saving, even if he groveled at her feet.
Tears streaked down her cheeks but she quickly wiped them off. Her face turned stone cold.
"Ready the car," she said. "We'll be leaving soon."
"Sure ma'am," Jermeiah acknowledged before his receding footsteps hinted that he had already left.
Catherine slowly got up and got into the bathroom to freshen up.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, she noticed neatly folded clothes laid out on the bed.
She wondered briefly who had placed them there but didn't linger on the thought. She then dressed quickly.
As she reached for the door, she stopped dead in her tracks. Fragments of her own voice from the night before surfaced in her mind, desperately pleading to be fucked. She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to scream.
Stay calm, she told herself. We'll deal with everything one by one.
Outside, the car waited.
Jeremiah stepped out from the driver's seat and opened the back door for her. She barely met his eyes as she got in, heart pounding as her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably.
What did he think of her now? An undesirable, desperate woman her husband hadn't touched in months?
Why hadn't he slept with her? The question gnawed at her. She had offered herself without hesitation, and yet he hadn't taken her. Had he pitied her and done only enough to tire her out and get her off his back?
Was she truly so undesirable that even an ordinary bodyguard wouldn't sleep with her when she begged him to?
"Ma'am...ma'am Catherine?"
Catherine flinched when she heard Jeremiah call out to her. She had been lost in her thoughts and hadn't even noticed the car had begun moving.
Jeremiah held out a drink, briefly turning back to look at her before returning his eyes back on the road.
"This is for your hangover," he said.
Catherine looked at the drink suspiciously. What if she had been drugged last night? Surely she wouldn't have behaved that way even if she was dead drunk. She had to have been drugged? Right?
"It's not drugged," Jeremiah spoke as if he had read her mind.
Catherine cleared her throat and took the drink from him. She uncapped it and downed it in one go, the liquid quickly soothing her throbbing head.
She looked at the back of Jeremiah's head as he drove.
Would he bring up last night? Black mail her with it and ask for a hug sum? He didn't take pictures...right??
She took a deep breath and stared out the window, her life unraveling piece by piece. Her husband had cheated on her with her arch enemy. She had drowned herself in alcohol and thrown herself to her body guard, only to be refused.
Catherine closed her eyes in shame.
The car rolled into her mansion's driveway. She remained seated, unsure of how to face what waited inside. She turned to Jeremiah, who sat quietly in the driver's seat, and cleared her throat.
"Did you place the clothes in wearing now on my bed?" She asked him bluntly.
"We wouldn't want you meeting your husband dressed in vomit-soaked clothes, would we?"
Catherine batted her lashes repeatedly, thrown off by his subtle reference to her being drunk.
"About last night," she started, trying to feel him out.
"Do you remember?" Jeremiah turned to look at her, a small smirk playing on his lips. He faced front, "...don't beat yourself up too much. I understand."
Catherine'sjaw tightened. "Last night was a mistake. I would never have behaved like that if not for the alcohol."
"I know," Jeremiah replied.
"I'm glad you do," she said firmly. "Did you take pictures? Anything to sort of blackmail me."
"I'm not that kind of person, Catherine."
Catherine was thrown off guard with him calling her so casually by her name, but she didn't want to drag this out. It was already too embarrassing for her.
"Good," She reaffirmed, "I would never have anything to do with a bodyguard. No one should hear of what happened. It stays with us forever."
"As you wish," he said coolly.
She couldn't explain why, but his nonchalance unsettled her. Her pride burned. She opened the door sharply and stepped out. One thing handled. Now it was time to deal with Matthew.
She walked toward the house with faux confidence, ready to bring everything crashing down, but her hand paused on the doorknob. Her breath shook, and tears stung the back of her eyes.
"Do you want me to come with you?" Jeremiah asked from behind her.
She jolted at the sound of his voice. Had he been following her since the car? How could he move so silently?
She didn't respond.
She pushed the door open and the first thing she heard was the clinking of forks and plates.
Were those two dining and making merry after all they had done to her. And why the fuck was Kelly still in her house?!
She walked briskly toward the dining room, anger propelling her forward, but the sight that greeted her made her stop dead in her tracks.
"What the bloody hell do you both think you're doing?"