My Boss’s Hidden Heir (Elara and Marcus) novel Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Elara woke up and did what she always did.

Turned over in bed. Hard. The way she’d been doing for five years in her tiny apartment where rolling too far meant hitting the floor.

She braced for impact.

Nothing.

She was still on the bed. Soft. Too soft. Her mattress at home felt like sleeping on cardboard. This felt like clouds.

Her eyes opened slowly.

White ceiling. Too high. Expensive–looking light fixture hanging down.

This wasn’t her apartment.

Elara shot up in bed. Looked around. The room was huge. Minimal furniture but everything looked like it cost more than her rent. Floor–to–ceiling windows showing the city below.

No. No no no.

Where the hell was she?

Her dress. The emerald one from last night. It was hung carefully on a hanger hooked to the closet door.

She looked down at herself.

White t–shirt. Way too big. Barely covering her thighs.

No bra.

No underwear.

Oh God.

Did Marcus change her clothes? Had he seen her naked? Touched her? She tried to remember last night. Dinner. The platform. Coming back down. Walking to the car. Then nothing.

Blank.

Shit shit shit.

Her heart was racing. She needed to get up. Find her phone. Figure out what happened.

She swung her legs out of bed and stood. Her hair was everywhere. A complete mess. She gathered it into her hands and

twisted it into a bun, Messy. Didn’t care.

Bathroom. She needed the bathroom.

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Chapter 19

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She found it attached to the bedroom. All marble and glass. A shower big enough for four people. On the counter sat a new toothbrush still in its packaging.

For her, probably.

Elara ripped it open and brushed her teeth. Splashed water on her face. Looked at herself in the mirror.

You’re in the Devil’s house wearing his t–shirt with no underwear on.

Great. Just great.

She used the toilet and washed her hands. Took a breath.

Okay. Go downstairs. Find out what happened. Act normal.

She opened the bedroom door and walked into a hallway that was bigger than her entire apartment. Followed it to a

staircase that curved down to the main floor.

And that’s when she saw him.

Marcus. Standing in the kitchen. White t–shirt stretched tight across his chest. She could see everything. His muscles. The

shape of his chest. Even his nipples pressing against the fabric.

Grey sweatpants. Sitting low on his hips.

And his dick.

Oh my God, his dick.

The sweatpants weren’t tight but they weren’t loose enough to hide anything. She could see the print. The length. The

thickness. The ridge of the head. Even the veins running along the side.

Heat flooded between her legs.

Her nipples went hard instantly. Pressed against the t–shirt she was wearing. And she felt it. Wetness. Actual wetness starting to drip down her inner thigh.

No. Not now. Stop.

Elara squeezed her legs together. Crossed them. Tried to walk down the stairs like everything was normal.

She made herself move slowly. One step. Two steps. Hips swaying slightly because that’s what happened when you walked down stairs with your thighs clenched together.

Like a runway model. Except she was doing it to keep from leaving a wet spot on his floor.

Marcus looked up.

His eyes went straight to her chest. Lingered there for half a second too long. Then dragged down to her legs. Back up to

her face.

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His dick moved. She watched it happen. Saw it twitch and start to grow against the grey fabric.

He turned away quickly. Faced the counter.

Good. Don’t make him more embarrassed.

Elara forced herself to keep walking. Into the kitchen. Onto one of the stools.

He made coffee. Set it in front of her. Leaned against the opposite counter like he needed the distance.

She wrapped both hands around the mug. Took a sip. The heat helped. Grounded her.

“So,” she said, trying to sound normal. “What happened last night?”

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