Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The bedroom was pitch-black, the heavy, luxurious blackout curtains blocking out every sliver of light. A few shrill car horns finally roused some movement inside.

I rubbed my throbbing head; my eyelids felt like they weighed a ton. This was the aftermath of partying too hard with ten male escorts and getting blackout drunk!

After blinking hard a few times, I realized—this was my own room…

I propped myself up with one hand, and the smooth satin quilt slipped off my body. I looked down…

Oh my god!

What the hell happened to me?!

I was completely naked, and my fair chest was covered in purple and blue marks—they looked so harsh. Staring at the mess, I couldn’t help but yell.

“Holy crap! Who did this?!”

Whoever it was had no clue how to treat a woman gently!

“Then why don’t you tell me what you did?”

A lazy, hoarse male voice came from beside me. I had no idea there was someone else in the room. I turned my head—and there he was, lying right next to me, sharing the same bed.

When I saw his face, I froze. It was Adrian Foster—my arch-nemesis since we were kids!

Damn it… Why him of all people?!

I quickly wrapped the quilt around myself, staring at him warily and awkwardly.

As I pulled the quilt, his toned, muscular chest came into full view—his muscles were defined, and his six-pack subtly protruded.

To be honest, it was quite a sight—if you ignored the red scratches all over it.

Of course I knew what those scratches were from.

But did I do that?

Adrian Foster looked like he could read my mind. “Who else would it be, you little wildcat…?”

Hearing him speak, that familiar urge to snap back at him kicked in. I forced myself to spout nonsense. “Who knows if you’re just framing me!”

Adrian Foster had never been surrounded by flocks of women. His reputation for being a man of principle was well-known in our circle.

In fact, because he’d never had a girlfriend, Vivian Grant and I even wondered if he wasn’t into women—or had some weird kinks. We’d snickered about it more than once.

This place was dangerous. I needed to escape fast. But my clothes were scattered all over the floor in a messy pile. I had to wrap the quilt around me and head to the living room to change.

“Anna… You can’t just use me up and run away, can you?”

Adrian Foster’s voice cut through the air—tinged with a hint of grievance, and a dash of teasing.

A few strands of hair fell neatly across his forehead. Under his long, slightly curled eyelashes, his eyes were as clear as morning dew. His fair, smooth face looked almost childish at that moment—as if he’d really been wronged.

“Adrian Foster, shut up!”