A Night to Repay

The opulent private room descended into a stunned, pin-drop silence. Every single member of the Vance family, along with Sloane, sat frozen in their chairs. They stared at the wine-drenched Cleo in blatant disbelief. Drops of the dark red vintage gathered at her chin and fell onto the plush carpet with a soft, rhythmic patter. The expensive liquid clung to her hair, plastering it against her pale cheeks. It soaked through her worn clothes, turning the cheap fabric into a sticky, humiliating mess that clung uncomfortably to her shivering skin.

Sloane’s perfectly manicured brow furrowed deep into her forehead. Her gaze darted from the gleaming vintage bottle sitting innocently on the table to her sister’s ruined state. Jealousy flared in her eyes, sharp and undeniable, mingling with deep suspicion.

"Who exactly is this Mr. Lockwood? And why would a man with that kind of immense wealth ever give a pathetic girl like you an outrageously expensive bottle of wine?" Sloane demanded, her voice laced with venom, cutting through the quiet room.

Still reeling from the sheer shock herself, Cleo found a momentary shield in the mystery of the billionaire's name. She looked at the faces around the table, taking in their greedy, judgmental expressions. She let out a cold, cynical laugh that echoed off the high ceiling.

"Did you truly believe I was friendless and isolated in this world? I do not owe a single one of you an answer."

Corbin’s face twisted in fury. The thought of his girlfriend keeping wealthy, powerful secrets from him bruised his fragile ego. He aggressively lunged forward out of his chair. His hand shot out, his fingers clamping tight around her fragile wrist like a vise.

"What kind of people are you involved with? I am your boyfriend! Why am I just finding out about this?" Corbin barked, his grip bruising her skin.

Cleo reacted on pure instinct. She yanked her arm back, flinging his hand away as if his touch physically burned her flesh.

"How dare you question me! Apparently, there is much I do not know about you too!" she snapped fiercely.

She stared at Corbin, a heavy wave of disgust washing over her. Seven years. She had wasted seven years of her youth, her loyalty, and her unwavering support on this monster. He had brought her lifelong tormentor to a family dinner just to destroy her self-esteem. She was utterly disappointed. She snatched her cheap, scuffed bag from the back of the chair.

"Enjoy your meal. You will not have to deal with my presence anymore."

She turned her back on the stunned, greedy family and abruptly stormed out of the private room.

The moment she burst through the hotel's grand exit, the cool night air hit her flushed, wine-stained face. The heavy emotional dam holding her together finally broke. Her legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed into a squat on the hard concrete pavement of the hotel exterior. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she wept bitter, uncontrollable tears. The rough texture of the concrete scraped against her shoes as she rocked slightly. The sheer devastation of Corbin humiliating her so profoundly tore at her very soul. Every mocking glance, every cruel word from Sloane replayed in her mind, stabbing her like a physical blade.

Then, a steady, rhythmic clicking of expensive leather shoes approached her from the shadows. The footsteps stopped right in front of her, pausing just inches from her trembling form.

"Why are you crying every time I see you?"

A deep, resonant voice broke through her miserable sobbing. Cleo’s entire body tensed. She dragged her gaze upward. The towering, immaculate figure of Vaughn Lockwood stood over her, casting a long shadow that swallowed her small frame. His bespoke suit was flawless, a stark contrast to her soaked, pathetic state.

Panic surged through her chest. She hastily wiped her wet face with her stained sleeve and scrambled to her feet, immediately adopting a defensive posture.

"I cannot afford to pay you back for that exorbitant wine you just sent in," she stammered, her voice frantic, throwing out the warning before he could demand a single cent.

A faint, vague, and dangerous smile formed on Vaughn's sculptured lips. His eyes darkened with blatant intent as he looked down at her shivering frame.

"It is fine," he drawled smoothly. "You could spend a night with me to make up for it."

Before Cleo’s surging panic could peak into a full-blown verbal rejection, the heavy hotel doors swung open. Sloane emerged into the night air. Her eyes locked onto the elusive billionaire tycoon. This was the same untouchable man her ambitious father had spent years trying to court, failing miserably every single time. Extreme greed lit up Sloane's features.

She eagerly strutted forward, plastering a sickeningly sweet smile on her face, desperate to make a connection.

"Mr. Lockwood! Do you remember me? Not too long ago, I was at the business dinner..."

Vaughn’s face instantly hardened into a mask of pure ice. He remained entirely expressionless, ignoring her manufactured charm.

"I don't," he cut her off sharply. His tone was brutal and dismissive.

Cleo watched Sloane's face fall in real-time. Desperate to completely avoid her sister’s impending mockery and desperate to prove she was not worthless, Cleo made a rash, terrifying decision. She aggressively wiped the last of her tears away. She stepped right up to the intimidating CEO and boldly linked her slender arm intimately with Vaughn’s muscular one. She pressed her side against his rigid torso.

She looked up at him, faking a soft, familiar tone. "I am not feeling well today. Can you take me home?"

Vaughn stared down at her. He internally questioned this sudden, uncharacteristic clinging from the girl who usually treated him like the plague. But his dark eyes gleamed with amusement. He willingly played along with her charade, letting her hold onto him.

Steeling her racing heart, Cleo took it a step further. She boldly interlaced her small fingers entirely with his large ones, locking their hands together right in front of a completely dumbfounded, furious Sloane.

"We are quite close," Cleo claimed loudly.

They walked away together, leaving Sloane seething on the pavement. The moment they turned the corner and were safely out of Sloane's sight outside the hotel, the facade shattered. Cleo dropped his hand as if he were diseased. She timidly backed away, putting several feet of distance between them.

"You do not need to send me home. I will take the public bus," she insisted quickly.

Vaughn shifted his weight. He used his large frame to completely block her path of escape, trapping her against the exterior wall of the building. A sharp hint of contempt laced his deep voice as he looked down at her.

"So you are discarding me after you used me?" he sneered. "I gave you three million, but you still have to take the bus?"

Cleo bit the inside of her cheek. She still firmly doubted the authenticity of that massive check. She believed him to be a cruel liar playing a twisted game with her. She tilted her chin up, stubbornly determined to uncover the truth about his wealth.

"Where is your car?" she demanded.

Vaughn motioned for her to follow. She trailed behind him, stepping out of the cool night air and descending into the dim, echoing underground parking lot. The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows across the cold concrete floor.

As they walked deeper into the silent lot, a sudden sound caught Cleo's attention. Wet, slapping noises echoed off the walls. She turned her head and froze in her tracks.

Just a few yards away, in the deep shadows of a massive concrete pillar, a couple was passionately kissing. The explicit sight made her breath hitch. The man had the woman pinned against the concrete. His hands were shoved up her unbuttoned blouse, aggressively kneading her bare breasts. The woman's skirt was hiked up to her waist, exposing her thighs as she ground her hips eagerly against the man's groin. Their tongues battled openly, lost in their own uninhibited world of lust.

A fierce, burning flush exploded across Cleo’s pale cheeks. She averted her eyes, but the visceral, uninvited memories flooded her mind. Her brain violently flashed back to that night on the cold operating table. She remembered Vaughn's heavy body pinning her down, his rigid muscles pressing into her soft skin, trapping her beneath him. She remembered the sheer force of his deep penetration, his relentless thrusts leaving her gasping for air as he kissed her with bruising, animalistic intensity.

Vaughn caught her flushed reaction. He closed the distance between them, leaning in until his chest brushed her shoulder. His warm breath tickled her ear.

"Turned on already?" he murmured darkly.

"Perv!" she snapped aggressively, her heart hammering against her ribs in a frantic rhythm.

She scrambled away from him, rushing toward the luxurious black Maybach parked a few spaces away. Desperate to put distance between them, she reached for the rear door handle, planning to quickly slide into the safe, distant backseat.

Vaughn caught up to her. He pulled the front door open, pointing a long, commanding finger at the leather passenger seat.

"Sit in the front."

"Forget it. I prefer sitting in the back," she stated, her tone vigilant as she gripped the rear door.

Vaughn shot her a cold, predatory glare through the rearview mirror.

"You like sitting in the back? Well, I enjoy doing it in the back. I mean, there is so much more space to get creative. So it is up to you where you wanna sit."