After an exhausting amount of reluctant goodbyes and hugs from Léa and my parents, Alaina and I are finally on the road back to LA.

We drive in silence for some time, the evening hue dimming as the sun scurries to hide behind the horizon. Houses and palm trees flash by us, and I try to focus straight ahead to avoid glancing at Alaina.

The tension inside the car is building up to the point that it feels as if the oxygen is being sucked out by a large vacuum. Her scent, with hints of fruits, vanilla, and velvety musk, intoxicates the interior, wafting into my mind and every logical brain cell. I grip the wheel, tapping my finger against the leather surface, the Mercedes logo taunting me. Reminding me of how I can't let my feelings soften the hard exterior I've formed to protect myself.

"Your family is really cool and nice," Alaina's soft voice shatters the silence.

"Hm," I grunt. Being in this car after last night is nearly impossible. The electricity in the air, zapping my veins like small shocks with Alaina so, so close to me. It's taking everything in me to not pull the car over and take her in the backseat. To taste her, to feel her against me, her warmth, the shudders from her body.

Fuck, what am I even thinking about? Why am I so worked up over one night of sex, as if I haven't had flings with other women and been in the same room with them without any problems? Why must Alaina be so... different from others? Dangerously so?

Alain shifts in her seat, staring ahead. Discomfort wafts off her in waves, but I have to keep my distance from now on. Even if we are fake dating, even if the world knows that my assistant is my girlfriend, real or fake, I cannot afford to fall for her. The contract ends in less than two weeks. And so will our relationship, both fake and professional.

"Are we–"

"Do you have my schedule ready?" I interrupt her. I know what she was going to ask, and it's definitely not about the weather.

Alaina clears her throat. "Yes, but I still have to organize some notes."

"Then do it. And inform me about everything for tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am." Bright light from the laptop screen illuminates the interior, and Alaina's face. Glancing out of my periphery, I notice how her face scrunches up in a cute little frown, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip as her fingers move across the keyboard.

I can still feel her touch on me, the way her fingers, so soft like silk, gliding along my skin. The graze of her teeth, the taste of her lips.

I want her, I fucking crave her. She's the sweetest dessert, a sweet heap of temptation into which I can't give in. Not anymore. Not ever. Not with my career on the line. Not with my past hanging over me like a dark cloud, raining on me and reminding me of what happened, and how it can happen again if I let my guard down.

During the rest of the drive, Alaina tells me of the morning meetings and my two o'clock with the lawyers from Prada about extending the contract with the brand. I mentally groan at the thought of sitting there, with my own team of lawyers, dealing with the legal shit. Not something I'm looking forward to.

It's already pitch dark by the time we arrive at Alaina's cabin, and despite it being quite exquisite, it most certainly cannot compare to my penthouse in New York or my mansion in Bel-Air. What I would not give to soak in a Jacuzzi right now. Ah, oui, I will need Alaina to book a spa for that.

Parking next to Alaina's measly car, I turn off the engine. She had already closed the laptop when we arrived at the gate. And neither of us make a move to get out. A few seconds pass before I unstrap the seatbelt.

"I'll be in my bedroom," I say, opening my door and stepping one foot on the pavement. "And I'll be working, so do not disturb me."

"Understood." Her seatbelt clicks. "Good night, Mylène."

I don't reply, closing the door and making my way through the lit up pathway, the warm glow from the lights on either side illuminating the Stone path. Whoever her grandmother is, she's most certainly someone with influence to be able to afford this. And confidence to build a log home in the middle of Beverly Hills.

Locking my car when Alaina starts walking up the path, I insert the key into the keyhole and walk inside, the faint smell of pine drifting through the warm air. Navigating my way to my bedroom, I do my usual evening routine and settle in beneath the covers with my laptop. I need to ensure that everything is ready and set to go for tomorrow's presentation.

I can't take any chances to screw up this deal, as Prada is one of my most important sponsors. But I also do know they're dependent on me just as much, since my magazine brings their brand a profit extending well into nine figures.

I'm just about done reviewing when the bedroom door creaks open. Exhaling in annoyance, I look up to see Alaina standing in the doorway, wearing one of her oversized, boring sweaters and tight leggings. On anyone else, I would have made a snide remark. But on her, they look adorable. Sexy. Tempting.

I frown. "I told you not to disturb me."

She adjusts her glasses, her hand sliding down to rub the back of her neck. That should be me. I want to be the one touching her. Leaning back against the headboard, I don't take my eyes off her, the light from the hallway shimmering around her.

"I just want to talk about last night."

Of course. I suppose this talk was inevitable. But putting it off and pretending that everything is normal seemed like the right course of action.

After all, that's another thing I'm really good at besides running a billion-dollar company. Running from personal problems and letting my past rule my decisions.

"What about it?" I ask stiffly.

"We can't ignore it forever, Mylène," Alaina's soft voice ripples through the bedroom.

I suck in a deep breath. "Yes, we can. There's nothing for us to talk about."

"Seriously, Mylène?" She crosses her arms, pushing up her cranberry breasts, evoking memories that should have never existed. "We had sex last night, and you're saying there's nothing for us to talk about?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. I'm glad your hearing is still working."

Alaina laughs ruefully. "So you're just going to ignore it, act as if last night didn't mean something. That the arrangement isn't becoming something real."

"There's nothing real between us, Alaina," I say, keeping my voice low and unemotional. 

"Really? Because last night sure seemed otherwise."

"It didn't" I say through gritted teeth.

"Then what did it seem like, huh?"

"It was a fucking business transaction," I snap at her. She visibly flinches at my words, the reaction tearing me from the inside.

Fuck, what did I just say?

Another ominous silence consumes the house, a heavy fog of unwanted emotions settling in the air.

"A business transaction..." Alaina scoffs. "So I'm just your... toy, huh?"

"Alaina–"

"After you used me and fucked me?" She chokes out a sob, the sound like a gunshot through my heart. Her hands curl up in fists at her sides, and I can't help but notice how fucking cute she looks when she's frustrated.

All I want to do right now is to tell her how perfect she is, that there's nothing more I want to do than make her mine forever. My partner.

To hold her in my arms, rocking her back and forth, stroking her hair and whispering in her ear that everything is okay.

Except my reputation and career are both on the line. Those two things that always, always come first. In a male-dominated industry, I've worked too hard to climb my way up to where I am. For the past twenty-one years, since I was sixteen, when I discovered my true passion for the fashion world.

I gained this billionaire status through blood, sweat, and tears. And through mistakes that I can never allow to happen again.

"Alaina, that wasn't my intention, and you know it."

She stomps her foot like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. "Bullshit! That's what you're doing, spitting bullshit! Just admit it and tell the truth, Mylène."

"Admit what?"

"That I'm your whore."

I slam my laptop close and throw it on the other side of the bed before throwing the covers off me. Swinging my legs on the ground, the rough carpeting scrapes against the soles of my feet.

"Do not ever call yourself that."

She scoffs. "Then a slut. A hoe. Your bitch. Should I go on?"

"Fuck, you're not any of those things, Alaina."

"Then what am I, huh?"

"You–" I stop, the words girlfriend hovering in the air.

I whip my head to her again, her formerly warm, brown eyes shooting sharp daggers at me. My hands curl and uncurl at my sides. I can't believe I said that last night was a business transaction. It was the same as implying that she's just a prostitute, someone I'm paying for to use in bed.

Alaina glowers at me, my breath constricting at the sight of tears welling up at the corners of her eyes.

She's about to cry. And because of me. Merde.

"What?" she asks. "I am what to you?" She lets out a choked laugh and glances up at the ceiling before throwing her arms up. "You know what, I don't care anymore. Because it's clear."

I step forward when she turns around. "Where the hell do you think you're going? We're not done with this conversation."

"Well guess what, I am," she spits out over her shoulder.

"And I'm not."

She faces me again. "You think I care?"

"Are you forgetting that I'm your boss, Alaina? Somebody I can fire–" I snap my fingers. "Just like that."

"And you're not going to fire me, Mylene. Because whether you admit it or not, you want me.  I mean, that's the whole reason why you let me remain despite my mistskes."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh no, are you losing your hearing, huh?" Alaina snorts. "You heard me."

Anger rushes to my mind as I walk to her. Her eyes widen but don't hold an ounce of fear. She remains in the doorway when I reach her, looking up at me as I tower over her.

Such a small bug. Someone I can crush like nothing. Someone who has the audacity to challenge me.

And that's why I'm drawn to her, despite the risks. Because even when she's bubbly, sweet, she still has the courage to stand up to me. And that night, when I let her take control for just a brief second, I loved it. When nasty words emerged from her mouth, I loved it. I love both versions of her.

Soft, sweet, obedient Alaina. Sassy, brave Alaina. And in both versions, she's enticing. Dangerous for my health.

"How dare you talk that way to me?" I hiss.

"Because you're too much of a coward to admit that what we have, it extends beyond a contract. Beyond a fake deal."

"Don't you even dare call me a coward."

"What else are you, huh? You won't tell me what happened to you before, you said that last night was just a business transaction. All of that is just to guard yourself. Because you only think everyone around you just uses you for money."

"Because they fucking do, Alaina!" Slamming my fist against the doorframe, she recoils a little as I step forward, nothing but a dull tingle in my hand. My thigh hits hers,  prompting her to back out into the hallway and against the wall. "You don't know what it's like being in my shoes. When everybody is just out to get you, to..."

"I'm not one of them, Mylène," her voice trembles. "But you won't let me show it to you." Even now, there's no fear swirling around in those brown eyes when they glance down at my hand and back up. Like she knows that I would never touch her like that.

She would be right. Because the only people I do want to hurt are those who have hurt her. My sweet, sweet Alaina. I would make sure none of them knows what a life without pain feels like anymore.

And I have the power to make that happen.

I emit a heartless chuckle. "Princess, you don't know how much I want things to be real between us. But I can't do it, not for my sake, not for yours. Because the only way this dream ends is in a nightmare. I've been down that road before."

"Then talk to me," she begs, her lower lip trembling. "Tell me what happened. I'll do anything to prove to you that I will never hurt you."

"I can't, Alaina," I whisper, my eyes roving over her body and lingering on her mouth. "I've been hurt, betrayed before. And I won't be stupid enough to let that happen to me again."

I reach out to trace her jaw with my thumb, her tears glistening under the light. I imagine how it would taste to kiss them away, the saltiness coating my tongue before I take her mouth. Her shuddering breaths floating into mine like little clouds of forbidden paradise.

I lean forward, my lips remaining an inch from her skin as they brush against her ear. I can feel her shiver a little, her warm breath panting gently on my neck.

"That doesn't mean I'll ever forget how delicious you taste, how beautiful you look and sound when you come for me. You are perfect, princess. And that's why we need to keep our distance behind the scenes. Because there's nothing more I want to do than rip your clothes off right now and take you against this wall until you're screaming my name."

I pull away and step back, her face flushing a bright pink.

"So tell me, amour. Do you think you can remain professional and do your job when no one is watching? For me?"

Alaina gulps loudly, her eyes darting across my face, the corners of her lips twitching downward before she nods. Once.

"Anything for you, ma'am."

"Good girl." And without another word, I reenter my bedroom and close the door. Pressing my back against the frame, I shut my eyes and listen to her footsteps receding.

Images of her bright, bubbly face when we were on the hike flood my mind. That smile with the power to melt away the ice protecting my warm, beating heart, her pussy grinding into me as her sweet flavor overflowing my tongue, watching her looking at me as she has her first orgasm. With me.

I don't know how I can resist the urge to have her again. To work in my office and travel with her to shows and meetings with clients, to have her standing so close to me.

Even when the world knows we're "dating", I know that if I let my desires for her take control, I won't be able to stop.

Not this time.

I won't be satisfied without the sweet, sweet flavor of Alaina consuming my cravings.

Because the only thing I want to do right now is go after her and take her. Hear her scream my name, feel her nails digging into my skin, watch her eyes rolling back, taste her surrendering to my tongue.

She's slowly becoming my addiction, and it's not too late for me to put a stop to it before it becomes irreversible.

Even when a part of me screams that I'm already in too deep.