Twisted Vows-v1 Facebook ad: “Read next chapter”

About this ad

Meta Ad Library ID

1421086206875797

Platforms

Facebook, Instagram, Audience Network, WhatsApp and Threads

Relaunches

0

EU reach

14

How we count

Ad text

"Whose brilliant idea was it to drag me off a warm couch so I could lose all feeling in my ass?" Ella Morgan aimed the question, along with a murderous glare, at the three friends standing in line beside her. They had been waiting for more than an hour, yet the queue curling around the block had advanced by almost nothing. Of every possible nightspot in Raven Citadel, they had chosen Crave. Getting through its doors was difficult at the best of times, and tonight the city's hottest DJ was making an appearance. "We're here to help you forget the man we have agreed not to name," Sophie whispered. She had been Ella's best friend since primary school. When Sophie turned to return Ella's glare, the transparent beads threaded onto the ends of her long ombre braids clicked together. Even on what she called an ugly day, Sophie looked adorable. Tonight was decidedly not one of those days. She looked scorching, and the men loitering nearby while hoping to enter the club clearly agreed; most of them seemed incapable of directing their eyes anywhere else. "You've had plenty of time to wallow," Lila said. She took a rapid selfie and uploaded it to her I*******m. Almost immediately, her phone began firing off notification after notification from her millions of devoted followers. Lila is an enormously successful YouTuber, and her makeup tutorials have elevated her to near-divine status online. Caroline flipped her long blond hair behind one shoulder. "The sooner you climb onto another bike, the sooner you'll stop thinking about the one that threw you off." As she spoke, she raised the collar of the leather jacket she wore so often it had become part of her identity. During the five or six years Ella has known her, Caroline has never worn a dress. Not once. Despite proudly describing herself as a tomboy, she possessed an effortless sense of style. With her willowy height and finely shaped features, practically anything would have suited her. Beside the other three, Ella considered herself the ordinary one. She had made peace with it. Her complexion remained stubbornly pale regardless of how many hours she spent beneath the sun. Several attempts to dye her long, mouse-brown hair had ended when she grew sick of touching up the roots. Her most memorable feature was probably the slant of her brown eyes, though her thick black-framed glasses concealed them. Without those heavy lenses, she could barely see. "Besides, he has already moved on," Lila added without mercy. "You need to do it too." Tact had never ranked among Lila's talents. Rolling her eyes, Ella released a tired breath. She understood that her friends were trying to help, but she was perfectly content to spend every hour planted in front of the television, consuming carbohydrates and awful reality programs. Going days without changing clothes or running a brush through her hair suited her just fine. So did crying herself unconscious, then waking with swollen eyes and a face puffed beyond recognition. What she could not tolerate was being hurried through heartbreak. How was six weeks supposed to erase four years of memories? A whole collection of happy moments and carefully built dreams had been destroyed in seconds. "This line gets two more minutes," she announced, drawing her trench coat more tightly around herself. "If it still hasn't moved, I'm going home." At least she had possessed enough foresight to wear the coat. Her friends had begged her to leave it behind because, according to them, it destroyed her entire aesthetic. Tires shrieked near the entrance. First a Lamborghini stopped at the curb, then a Ferrari and a Porsche pulled in behind it. Six men emerged from the expensive cars. They were absurdly tall, nearly rivaling the office buildings around them, and polished enough to have stepped out of a fashion spread. Keys sailed toward the waiting valets before the group strode directly to the club's door. Maybe Ella's temper had been frayed by the useless queue. Maybe the past few weeks had scraped away what little patience she had left. Whatever the cause, the sight of those six human towers bypassing everyone snapped her final thread of restraint. She abandoned her spot and marched toward the entrance without stopping to think. Her friends hurried after her. A particularly tall red-haired man was attempting to charm the bouncer when Ella tapped his shoulder. He glanced around, thick brows drawing together as if he could not imagine who might dare interrupt him. For a moment, her body forgot how breathing worked. Hair that vivid should have come with green eyes, she thought. Instead, his were a worn, arresting shade of denim blue, and resisting their pull required more effort than she wanted to admit. "Ella, please don't make this into a spectacle," Sophie said through clenched teeth, catching her by the arm. Politeness held no appeal for Ella. She was so cold that her backside had almost ceased to exist. She straightened as much as possible, determined not to be diminished by his size. Even with Jimmy Choo stilettos adding inches to her height, she had to tip her face upward. "Is there something you need?" he asked. His voice sounded engineered to dissolve the underwear of every woman within a kilometre. As though his face needed another weapon, a cleft appeared in his chin whenever he spoke or smiled. It was subtle enough to vanish when his expression settled, which somehow made it more destructive. Unfortunately, he had spent most of the previous fifty seconds either talking or grinning. "Nothing from you," Ella replied, each word frosted with dislike. No man had any business being that attractive. She resented him for it. "Good to know." He lifted one shoulder and smiled again, revealing two perfectly aligned rows of dazzling teeth. Veneers, she decided. They had to be. Natural teeth did not look like that unless their owner had access to a spectacular dentist. "Now, if you've finished staring at me-" Ella raised a hand, cutting him off. She was annoyed at herself for cataloguing his features and even more irritated by his arrogant assumption that she had been admiring him. "Have you noticed the crowd behind us?" She indicated the line stretching along the building. "Those people have stood out here for more than an hour. You don't get to arrive late and walk past all of them." His rust-colored brows climbed. "And you're planning to stop me, Princess?" Amusement brightened his blue eyes. Behind him, his friends - each apparently recruited from a Calvin Klein underwear campaign - snickered among themselves. Ella's hands felt embarrassingly small, but she still imagined using them to knock the smirk from his face. Education prevailed. A person could make a point without resorting to violence, and words carried their own force. Blinking rapidly behind her glasses, she said, "A decent human being would join the queue and wait like everyone else." The cluster of people near the entrance went quiet. Sophie and the others continued pulling at Ella, urging her away, but she had run out of concern for the evening, the club, and everyone in it. Red bent until their faces were level, turning the difference in their heights into an insult. Cold breath scented with mint brushed her skin. "Then I suppose decency isn't one of my qualities." After another careless shrug, he faced the bouncer. A few banknotes appeared in his hand. Once the burly man accepted them, Red gathered his companions and gestured toward Ella's group. "These four are coming in with us." Before Ella managed to digest what he had done, she and her friends were already inside. Sweat-slick bodies crowded around them, rising and dipping as they moved with the pounding music. Her vision needed several seconds to accommodate the darkness. When it did, she caught sight of the stranger she had confronted heading toward a VIP booth with his entourage. Did he expect gratitude now? Absolutely not. Warmth was returning to her toes and backside, and she was pleased about that, but she would have waited her turn without complaint. Well, without much more complaint. Caroline pressed her palms together and bowed. "Saint Ella, our debt to you can never be repaid. We're buying your drinks all night." Lila laughed. "You sacrificed yourself for the greater good. I never would've had the nerve to challenge Landon." "Landon? That's what he's called?" Ella asked, only half listening. Red suited him far better. She searched the room for somewhere to sit. Every table and booth appeared occupied, leaving only a scattering of vacant stools at the bar. Her black midi dress looked excellent with her shoes, but the stilettos were exacting a brutal price from her feet. Sophie kept talking beside her. "Around here, Landon might as well be royalty. Surely you've heard of him. He races in motorsport, hosts completely insane parties, and follows a strict three-month rule. No woman lasts longer than three months." "He sounds delightful," Ella answered, though she had never heard his name before tonight. That was hardly surprising. Raven Union's social world had never interested her. Then she spotted the open bar stools and brightened. The bar was far from ideal, especially when every person who had already consumed too much alcohol seemed magnetically drawn to it, but sitting mattered more than location. "Over there." Ella caught Sophie's hand. They squeezed through the dense crowd, with Lila and Caroline following close behind. Lila waved toward the bartender. "I'm paying for round one!" Shooters and gossip launched the evening. Cocktails and increasingly scandalous stories followed. Lila revealed that she was sleeping with one of the lighting technicians on her production crew. She then supplied a detailed report about every swollen, throbbing portion of his anatomy, apparently unconcerned about who might overhear her. By the midpoint of Ella's first cocktail, a little of the weight had lifted from her mood. Perhaps leaving the house tonight had not been a complete mistake after all. The DJ dropped a faster track. Lila and Caroline shrieked that it was their favorite song, then sprinted toward the dance floor with their hands in the air. From her stool, Ella watched them bounce and twist among the other dancers, a mildly drunken smile curving her lips. Beside her, Sophie went rigid. "Oh my God." Horror widened her eyes. "No. This cannot be happening." Ella followed her stare. Across the room, Samuel met her gaze, and the barely repaired pieces of her heart broke apart again. Olivia clung to his arm, squeezed into a metallic dress tight enough to look painted onto her body. Once, Olivia had been their friend. Now she hung from Samuel like an expensive man purse. "I swear I had no idea they'd come here," Sophie said quickly. "It's fine," Ella replied with a small nod. "I'm okay." She was not okay. Six weeks had done almost nothing to dull the raw wound left by her ruined engagement. Even the breakup itself was not the worst part. What continued to torment her was Samuel's cowardice: after four years together and a year engaged, he had ended everything by text. He had left her more than devastated. He had also abandoned her to cancel the wedding alone and argue with vendors for whatever refunds she could recover. Now Samuel and Olivia moved through the club as though nothing ugly had happened. They looked carefree, intimate, and in love, showing no sign that they had left Ella bruised and shattered behind them. During the first two weeks after the breakup, disbelief had numbed her. Explaining Samuel's betrayal to her parents and everyone else had kept her occupied, as had admitting that her instincts about him had failed so completely. Calling all one hundred invited guests had been the most humiliating task. She had needed to tell every one of them that the wedding was canceled and that their invitations could safely be repurposed as toilet paper. Over the following four weeks, she had drifted between denial, suffocating grief, and fury. Every supposed stage of mourning had taken a turn with her. Watching the two people she had trusted most laugh together clarified one thing: she had not yet reached acceptance. She remained trapped somewhere on the road between it and anger. Sophie leaned closer. "Do you want us to find another place?" Ella shook her head. Her only mistake had been entrusting them with her heart. Samuel was the liar. Samuel had cheated. If anyone deserved to leave, it was him. "Then we'll make sure he sees you don't need him," Sophie said. She pushed the row of shots closer, and they emptied them against the polished marble bar. "You've already wasted enough time grieving for that man." She was right, Ella decided. Six weeks was far too long to cry over someone who had no intention of returning. With that thought lodged firmly in place, she swallowed one kamikaze shot, then another, then another, barely pausing between them. Her heart welcomed the spreading numbness. Her liver, less enthusiastic, begged her to stop when the vodka struck with punishing force. Sophie urged her to slow down, but reason had already lost its influence. Ella did not want moderation. She wanted to get thoroughly, catastrophically drunk. "I'm going to dance," she announced through a hiccup. Leaving the bar, she stumbled toward the packed floor with a new objective: choose an unfamiliar man and dance with him. Standards were irrelevant tonight. Any stranger would do. Chapter 2: 2|One Night to Erase It All Of all the strangers in the club, Landon was the one Ella chose. The woman already circling him did not matter. She resembled a store-window Barbie squeezed into the shortest, tightest scrap of black latex Ella had ever encountered, and she clearly believed she had claimed him first. Ella stepped directly into the space between them and leaned against Landon for balance. "Sorry. He's here with me." Her slurred declaration earned a stare cold enough to frost glass. Barbie examined Ella from head toe, disgust twisting her artificially plumped mouth. Landon's laugh came out warm and startled. Color spread across his cheeks and ears, nearly matching his fiery hair. "That's right. I'm hers." "Then you can keep him." Barbie tossed her curtain of blond extensions behind her and strutted away. Within seconds, the mass of blank-faced dancers had swallowed her. Relief softened Landon's expression. "Thank you. I think you just prevented my murder." "That settles our debt, then," Ella murmured. "And thanks for getting us past the door." She had not intended to show him any gratitude. Still, he had rescued her from standing outside in the cold, and that counted for something. "So shameless behavior has practical benefits after all?" His grin coaxed a reluctant flicker of affection from her. The music shifted into something slow and intimate. At the edge of her vision, Samuel and Olivia slipped onto the dance floor together. Panic struck before thought could intervene, and Ella launched herself into Landon's waiting arms. "Act like you're my boyfriend," she said, tilting a bright, fragile smile toward him. Tears threatened beneath it. "Better yet, act like you can't live without me." "Your wish is my command, Princess." His arms closed firmly around her waist, drawing her against him with convincing possession. As they found the rhythm, Ella became painfully conscious of every adjustment of his hands and every shift of his body. She attempted to disregard the current racing under her skin, but attempting was all she managed. She had once read that dancing exposed a person's nature. Now she understood why. What she had mistaken for conceit earlier revealed itself as effortless confidence when Landon moved. "How's my performance?" he asked. He bent until their foreheads barely met. The roughness of his evening stubble brushed her cheek, and although the club was already hot, a shiver ran through her. Her mind ordered her not to enjoy any of it. Her body ignored the command. Ella looped both arms behind his neck and studied him. "If your regular career collapses, Rent-A-Boyfriend might hire you." Thick waves of red hair framed a face that reminded her of Will Halstead from Chicago Med, one of her favorite shows. Landon was unfairly attractive. If she remained wrapped around him much longer, she would not merely invite trouble; she would sprint toward it. His eyebrows climbed as genuine interest brightened his face. "Someone actually runs a business like that?" "How would I know?" Laughing, she tipped her head back. "I've never had a reason to hire one." Not before this moment, anyway. Not until today. For a while they said nothing. One minute stretched into two, perhaps three, while they rocked together beneath the lights. When the slow song gave way to another track, Ella continued moving. Landon showed no desire to release her. Curiosity eventually pushed through her misery. "When you aren't rescuing and dancing with strange women, what brings you here?" Crave suited ordinary people like Ella well enough. Men with Landon's kind of money, however, probably frequented hidden lounges where admission required a black card and at least eight figures in the bank. Everything about him suggested that level of wealth. Expensive bourbon lingered beneath the forest notes of his cologne. Dark, narrow-cut jeans complemented a denim button-down, while the sneakers on his feet appeared custom-made. They had to be; she had never seen another pair like them. His answer came close to her ear. "I'm marking my final night of freedom." Understanding landed at once. The group of Calvin Klein look-alikes surrounding him earlier had been his bachelor-party entourage. Guilt followed swiftly. She had treated him badly outside, yet if this were her last night as an unmarried woman, she would not have wanted to lose half of it in a queue either. Resting her cheek against his chest, she asked, "Is this something you want? Am I supposed to congratulate you?" His laughter stirred her hair. "Probably not. It isn't exactly making me happy, but there's no changing it. What about you? Why did you come?" "Because I need not to remember." Ella raised her face and found his gaze fixed intensely on hers. Her pulse jumped into her throat. If he kept looking at her as though every other woman had disappeared, perhaps the grief and betrayal really could vanish for a few hours. Landon searched her features. "What are you trying to forget?" A tearful curve touched her lips. "All of it. Please, Landon. Help me forget." Only when his fingers lifted her chin did she begin to understand what she had requested. His mouth covered hers, and the kiss burned away the chance to reconsider. For several breathless minutes, nothing existed beyond the pressure of his arms and the heat of his lips. He held her tightly against him while his tongue drove coherent thought from her mind. She pressed closer, hungry for whatever else he would give her and for every trace of warmth in his body. Beneath his clothes, he had the lean, hard build of a swimmer, taut exactly where she wanted him to be. She liked it far too much. Worse, she could imagine belonging beside him. As rebounds went, he would be dangerously convincing. When they finally separated for air, desire had darkened the blue of his eyes. His voice sounded scraped raw. "Is it gone yet?" "Not quite." Ella's answer emerged between uneven breaths. He frightened and thrilled her in equal measure. She understood that whatever came next would probably become the greatest mistake she had ever made. Yet she had spent twenty-four years obeying every rule, staying neatly inside every boundary, and all that discipline had earned her was a shattered engagement. For one night, she wanted recklessness. Landon closed his hand around hers and guided her out of Crave. While they waited for the valet to return with his Lamborghini, Ella hurriedly sent a message to her friends. He opened the passenger door, then leaned across to help secure her seat belt. Fear fluttered low in her stomach, tangled with exhilaration and mounting anticipation. The city smeared past the windows. She recognized streets only in fragments as they sped across Raven Citadel toward a secluded estate. Boom barriers, a guarded security station, and enough uniformed men for a small army separated residents like Landon from common people like her. Beyond the checkpoint, the road curled for what seemed like forever. They stopped before an enormous gate of blackened steel. Landon pressed a button on the small remote attached to his keys, and the metal panels swung apart. Ella stared through the windshield. A vast contemporary house occupied the hill above them, lit from below by rows of lights embedded along the drive. Its white exterior, restrained detailing, and clean classical lines looked too perfect to be inhabited, as though an architecture magazine had printed itself against the night. When they reached the entrance, a butler emerged with several servants arranged behind him. Every black-and-white uniform looked freshly pressed. "Mr Avery, would you like us to arrange dinner, sir?" Landon dismissed the suggestion with one hand. "No, Declan. Everyone can finish for the night. Thank you." The front door had scarcely closed behind them before he turned and pulled Ella to him. This kiss contained none of the restraint of the first. Urgency sharpened every touch. Landon lifted her, and she locked her legs around his waist while he carried her up a transparent staircase, along an extended corridor, and into his bedroom. He lowered her onto a huge platform bed. The sheets beneath her were silk-smooth and brilliantly white. As he slowly removed her clothes, his mouth traced weightless kisses down her neck. "Do you still want me to make you forget?" "Yes." The word broke into a feverish whimper while she fumbled with his clothing. She wanted the previous six weeks erased. More than that, she needed him to melt the cold shell that had formed around her heart. For hours, he gave her what she had asked for. His hands emptied her thoughts, his mouth drew cries from her, and his body left her trembling within the circle of his arms. Under different circumstances, it might have been a perfect first time. But Landon was still a man she had met in a nightclub. She was using him to escape a ruined relationship, and he was spending his last free night before marriage with her. Much later, they lay tangled together, breathing hard, their skin damp with sweat. Landon brushed his fingers over her and asked once more, "Have you forgotten now?" "Yes," she whispered. Her tears slipped silently onto his chest. If Rent-A-Boyfriend truly existed, she would request Landon every time and never consider anyone else. He shifted above her and kissed her with unexpected tenderness. This time, when he took her, his pace was slow and unhuried. The deliberate power of his movements and the scorching sweep of his hands shattered what remained of her world. "God, Princess, you're beautiful." The growled words broke as his body shuddered against hers. Ella clutched him as another immense surge of pleasure tore through her. It struck with the violence of a storm and left every defense inside her in ruins. Afterward, he kissed her forehead and gathered her back into his arms. "Are you all right?" The shaking did not stop immediately. Landon kept her close without demanding an explanation, allowing her to cry until she believed there could be no tears remaining. Only then did she finally look at him. "I am now." It was a lie. After tonight, being all right would be impossible. Landon was getting married soon, yet he had already gained terrifying control over her body. Now her damaged heart was surrendering to him too. Chapter 3: 3|Escape at Daybreak Ella jolted awake into a fog of confusion. The instant she pushed herself upright, pain hammered behind both temples, making her regret the movement. Then she looked sideways and found Landon stretched naked across the bed. Desire ignited before good sense could intervene. Even softened by sleep, he was astonishing, and despite every reason to keep her distance, she still wanted him. The need remained under her skin, sharp and hungry. Memories from the night before rushed in: everything they had tried, every boundary they had crossed. The recollection alone stole her breath. Careful not to make a sound, she extended her cramped limbs and smothered a yawn. Every small motion revealed a new ache. Even places she had never expected to notice felt strangely awakened. Being thoroughly ravished might have felt wonderful, but lingering was impossible. She needed to disappear before Landon opened his eyes. Nothing sounded worse than discussing her brief collapse in judgment with a man who had somehow learned her body more intimately than she understood it herself. A man who would soon be married. Relief loosened her chest when she spotted her phone and glasses on the bedside table. She slid the glasses into place, snatched up the phone, and launched herself from the mattress. The dark wooden floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet. Ella squeezed her eyes shut and counted from ten down to one. By the time she dared to look again, the room had steadied and the dizziness had begun to recede. Now for her clothes. Her frantic search of the enormous bedroom produced nothing useful. Somehow, her dress had disappeared entirely. Her underwear presented a second mystery, one she lacked both the time and dignity to investigate. Landon's denim shirt lay discarded nearby. She dragged it over herself, deciding he could survive without it, then hurried into the hallway with her phone clutched in one hand and her stilettos dangling from the other. At the bottom of the staircase, her trench coat waited in a crumpled, miserable pile. She had no memory of Landon removing it. He must have done so, though, just as he had stripped away everything else. The thought brought back flashes of his mouth, his hands, and the force of every thrust. A shiver ran through her before she could stop it. "Get it together." Ella jerked her head as if she could physically shake the memories loose. Last night had been intoxicating, reckless, and far too exciting. It had also ended. Landon belonged behind her now. She pulled on the coat, balanced long enough to step into her heels, and rushed toward the entrance. The front door nearly became a collision point when the butler arrived with a cluster of housekeepers reporting for work. For one awful moment, Ella faced the prospect of polite conversation with several strangers. Social pleasantries challenged her even under ordinary circumstances; in Landon's shirt, with a hangover and no underwear, they felt impossible. This humiliating administrative aftermath was precisely why she had guarded her panties for twenty-four years and avoided casual hookups. "Scott can take you home, Miss...?" Declan offered, leaving a courteous pause for her name. Ella refused to fill it. With a quick movement of her head, she said, "No, that's all right. I'll get a taxi." One of the housekeepers answered in a patient tone. "A taxi won't be allowed through the gates." "Right. Of course." Ella had forgotten where she was. This was a private estate, and drivers could not wander inside unless a resident had arranged access with security. Life in the Hills operated by its own rules. Declan remained professionally reassuring. "There's no need to be concerned. We regularly drive Avery's guests home." Whatever comfort he intended vanished on arrival. Guests. Regularly. The full weight of what she had done settled over Ella, and anger at herself replaced embarrassment. She should never have let the alcohol overrule her judgment. At least some fragment of common sense had survived the night: they had used protection. She remembered the gleam of foil wrappers scattered across the floor as she fled Landon's extravagant bedroom, with its absurdly comfortable memory-foam mattress and thousand-thread-count sheets. Pregnancy was not her only concern; the last complication she needed was some unpleasant disease. "Miss...?" Pulled from her spiral of shame, Ella looked toward the butler and winced. Half his words had passed without registering. "Sorry. Would you mind saying that again?" Her voice sounded remarkably composed, even polite. She had no idea how she was managing either after what had surely been the worst decision of her life. Declan repeated himself. "Would you care for breakfast before leaving?" Ella stared at him, too stunned to answer immediately. Was breakfast another feature of the full Landon experience? Perhaps every one-night stand received a meal before beginning her humiliating departure, a small courtesy designed to soften the dismissal. How many women had stood in this entrance wearing borrowed clothes? The evidence increasingly suggested that Landon made a habit of bringing strangers home, enjoying them until his interest faded, and leaving Declan to handle the morning consequences. "No, thank you." Her jaw tightened around the words. All Ella wanted was the refuge of her tiny apartment, where she could lock the door and cry until she felt ill. "Very well." Declan opened the front door and escorted her across the seemingly endless drive. A stately Lucent stood waiting outside. Ella climbed into the rear seat and immediately sank low against the plush leather. If the upholstery had swallowed her whole and erased her from existence, she would have welcomed it. Scott glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "Where would you like to go, Miss?" Anywhere that was not here. The answer rose inside her as a scream, but she kept it behind her teeth. None of this was the driver's fault. In fairness, it was not Landon's fault either. She had entered his bed willingly. Her friends had warned her, Landon had told her he was getting married soon, and she had known regret would be waiting when morning arrived. Still, she had gone with him. "Miss?" Scott's heavy eyebrows drew together as concern sharpened his expression. Ella lowered her gaze. "The closest bus stop will be fine." Once there, she could order an Uber and finish the journey alone. Every remaining connection to Landon had to be cut as quickly as possible. She certainly could not let his driver learn where she lived. If Landon ever decided their single night deserved a second round, Ella did not want him knowing where to find her. Chapter 4: 4|The Morning-After Option Somehow, Ella had slept through most of the half-hour trip from Whitney Hills. She only surfaced when the Uber struck a pothole near her apartment in Frost Creek, sending the car sideways with a sharp skid. She blinked at the artsy streets of eastern Raven Citadel, stretched, and smothered a yawn. Passing out behind her driver felt absurdly intimate. Her final clear memory was of him checking whether the air conditioning suited her. Maybe falling asleep in a stranger's car made her fearless. More likely, it made her an idiot, especially when her entire outfit consisted of a man's shirt beneath her coat. Ella adjusted her position and folded one leg carefully over the other. Please, she thought, let her have kept them closed while she slept. Going commando had sounded freeing in theory; in practice, she felt exposed. Naked, almost. With several miles now separating her from the previous night's catastrophic choices, the question of her vanished underwear demanded attention. She had expected to find it tucked inside her trench coat, but it wasn't there. Nor had it been anywhere in Landon's bedroom when she left. Had he deliberately hidden it? Was he one of those creeps who collected women's underwear as souvenirs, preserving trophies from every conquest? Her imagination supplied answer before reason could intervene. That enormous walk-in closet beside Landon's room - the one to the left, near the frosted door she had assumed opened into his ensuite - surely contained thousands of pairs. Lace, cotton, silk; every possible colour, shape, and size. How long had he been building the collection? Worse, with an entire club full of degenerates at Crave, why had she picked him? "Oh, God." Ella buried her face in both hands, spilling waves of brown hair over her fingers. From the front seat, Jeremy studied her through the rearview mirror. "Everything all right?" She answered with a small shake of her head. Nothing was all right. After last night, perhaps it never would be again. "Nearly there," he said. After glancing at the ETA on his phone, Jeremy offered her an encouraging smile, having completely misread the source of her despair. Home held no appeal. The interrogation waiting there promised all the warmth of the Spanish Inquisition, if the exploding group chat was any indication. She couldn't avoid her friends forever, but she could postpone facing them. A crowded intersection appeared ahead. Ella pointed toward it. "Could you let me out on that corner, please?" Concern tightened Jeremy's expression as he looked back at her. "You're certain?" She was. What she needed first was an unreasonable quantity of carbohydrates. She might also need Plan B, and Plan B was rarely the wrong choice under circumstances like these. "Remember the five-star rating!" Jeremy shouted after her while she climbed out of the Toyota Quest. Five stars seemed debatable. Ella weighed the question as she crossed the street toward the bakery at Main Avenue and5th Street. Though it was barely past8:00 AM, Saturday had already set the neighbourhood in motion. Residents hurried through their morning errands while market traders pushed laden carts toward the flea market held on the Central Theatre rooftop. That constant bustle suited Raven Citadel's Arts District. Galleries shared blocks with fashionable coffee shops and rooftop gardens, while exhibitions, poetry readings, and private dining events catered to every variation of the indie imagination. Inside the bakery, Ella edged along with the queue and pictured warm chocolate croissants dissolving on her tongue. She no longer remembered which of them had first proposed Frost Creek. At the time, the choice had seemed inevitable: all four of them loved the arts, and each possessed an Honours Degree to prove it. They had arrived carrying grand expectations for their separate careers. Three years later, every anticipated breakthrough remained stubbornly out of reach. Ella had yet to make her fortune illustrating children's books. Lila's acting career still hadn't taken flight. Her vlogs, at least, had pushed her into the spotlight, which counted for something. Sophie's only published columns appeared in the Frost Creek Times. Calling it a newspaper was generous; it was a community newsletter wearing a more respectable disguise. Caroline, meanwhile, continued working as pastry chef while searching for the dessert recipe that would overturn the culinary world. Their ambitions might have been running late, but life in Frost Creek made them happy. Moving in with her friends and escaping her parents' outrageously expensive penthouse in central Raven Citadel remained the smartest decision Ella had ever made. Had she still been living beneath their roof, the Spanish Inquisition would have seemed merciful by comparison. Her mother and father had not yet recovered from the bitter humiliation of Ella's broken engagement. News of a one-night stand might have carried them both straight to early graves. When her turn at the bakery counter finally arrived, disappointment replaced anticipation. Every shelf had been stripped bare except for a batch of bran muffins. She had no interest bran muffins. Depression, however, came with rules, and one of them required eating until consciousness became optional. Ella purchased twelve. She had finished two by the time she had walked three blocks away from her flat, deliberately heading in the wrong direction. Her destination was the discreet little pharmacy tucked along Diagonal alley. The young woman at the counter treated her kindly. No invasive questions followed, and no judgment entered her expression when she slid anonymous-looking box across the counter with practiced discretion. According to the badge pinned to her coat, her name was Dana. Although the shop was empty, she lowered her voice before explaining how Ella should use the pill, as though the pharmacy's old, flaking walls might be listening. "Take it as one dose," Dana murmured. Her moss-green eyes had widened with enough alarm for both of them. "For the best result, it needs to be within twenty-four hours." "Thank you," Ella said under her breath. She handed over her cheque card, and Dana rang up the purchase. Chapter 5: 5|The Morning After Ella doubled back to the apartment she shared with her friends and let herself into the fourth-floor unit. Shoes in hand, she eased the door shut behind her, hoping to reach her bedroom without disturbing anyone. That hope died when she turned and discovered three expectant faces watching her. "Morning," she muttered through a wince. Heat flooded her cheeks until they nearly matched the furious red birds on Sophie's T-shirt, which hung over loose grey pyjama bottoms. Lila inhaled with theatrical concentration. "Anyone else smell a walk of shame?" The other two erupted. Sophie clicked her tongue and shook her head. "And here we thought you were waiting for marriage." "Your halo has officially been confiscated," Caroline added. She took the muffin box from Ella, lifted the lid, and frowned. Anything bought from a shop offended Caroline's baking sensibilities because she was certain she could produce something better. This time, however, the muffins themselves weren't the source of her outrage. "The man has bazillions sitting in his accounts, and all he gave you was ten muffins? Aren't diamonds supposed to be a girl's best friend? Who even is he?" With an exasperated flourish, she passed the box to Sophie and disappeared through the entryway. Lila seized Ella by the hand. "Come on, Missy. You owe us a full explanation." She hauled her into the living room. Caroline had already settled onto the grey L-shaped sofa, knees drawn beneath her chin, studying a newly released cookbook written by a washed-up reality television personality. Sophie stayed behind to prepare coffee and arrange the muffins. She mothered the entire household, forever feeding or indulging someone. Caroline filled the paternal role, enforcing order whenever things threatened to unravel, while Lila played the unruly child whose latest scheme kept everyone alert. Until that morning, Ella's supposed sainthood had cast her as the group's resident sage. Everyone brought their troubles to her, despite her being both the most sheltered and the least experienced of them all. One reckless night had apparently cost her the position. "Nobody starts until I get there!" Sophie shouted over the shriek of the kettle on the gas cooker. Lila bounced on the paint-splattered rug. "Tell us now. I can't wait another second." "There isn't anything worth telling." Ella dropped into the teal wingback chair known throughout the apartment as the throne. They had found it for almost nothing at a flea market when they first moved in, and they had been fighting over it ever since. Comfort had little to do with its popularity. The lace-covered windows behind it admitted the only dependable strip of sunlight into their relentlessly cold flat, making the chair's warmth a prized commodity. Considering the night she'd had, Ella intended to claim it for the rest of the day. Sophie hurried in carrying a tray of steaming yellow mugs and a matching plate piled high with muffins and hot cross buns that were already two days old. "I'm ready," she announced. "Let the story of the innocent saint and the wicked prince who ravished her commence." Ella accepted a mug with a scowl. "Nobody ravished anybody." Lila nodded solemnly. "Of course not. We should ignore the scent of sex hanging off you, then." Before she could stop herself, Ella lowered her face and sniffed her clothes. Her friends dissolved into fresh laughter. "You're all horrible." Pouting, she swallowed some coffee. Even after Sophie had drowned it in milk, it tasted painfully bitter. Sophie had never been able to make decent coffee, and all four of them knew it, yet they continued entrusting her with that sacred responsibility. Caroline fought to catch her breath between laughs. "I only need one detail. Is his hair red everywhere?" "You actually asked that!" Sophie collapsed sideways across the couch, laughing until tears streaked her face. Ella folded her arms and stared rigidly ahead. "I refuse to answer." Her friends could probably guess, but she would never confirm it aloud. Yes, the hair below Landon's waist had been fiery too, though several shades darker. More humiliating was how much she had enjoyed running her fingers through it. The memory of him buried deep inside her brought a sudden pulse of longing between her thighs. She caught her lower lip between her teeth to suppress the sound rising in her throat. "Ella, come back to us!" Lila cried. "You're practically salivating. What were you just imagining?" "Nothing." The lie came too fast. Her face burned almost as fiercely as the damp heat gathering at her center. She couldn't understand how a mere thought of Landon could leave her so aroused. Sophie's laughter faded. "Seriously, though, how was your first time? Was he really as talented as all those former conquests claim?" Ella considered the question. She possessed no earlier experience against which to measure him. Apart from the soreness and tenderness that announced themselves whenever she shifted, however, she couldn't find a single complaint. She would gladly have accepted a second time, a third, perhaps a tenth or even a hundredth. Landon had known exactly where to touch her, how to satisfy her, and how to pull screams from her. Naturally, with her luck, he belonged to someone else. Caroline leaned toward her. "Well? Give us a verdict." Ella blinked at the three faces waiting for her answer. She nudged her glasses higher and shyly bit her lip. "It was beyond anything natural." The room exploded. All three women shrieked together, wriggling and bouncing in delight. Hope brightened Sophie's expression. "Will you see him again?" Ella shook her head. Without warning, tears spilled down her cheeks. Her friends crowded around the chair and wrapped their arms around her. "Oh, sweetheart," Caroline said. "Was it so incredible that you're crying?" "He's going to marry someone!" Ella wailed. Tears and mucus ran freely over her face. "He's getting married, but I still want him. I want him to make me feel that good again." Shock widened Lila's eyes. "How can he be getting married? He has that three-month rule." "Apparently, he met a woman worth abandoning it for." Ella sobbed harder, accepted the tissue box from Sophie, and blew her nose. Despite her tiny frame, she always produced startlingly loud, unnatural noises whenever she did that. Her friends never stopped being amazed by it. Caroline shook her head. "That makes no sense. Raven Citadel's number-one billionaire playboy is not the marrying kind." "He is this time." Ella explained what she had learned about his approaching wedding and how the truth had come out. "So that was why they were all there?" Lila asked. "They were celebrating his bachelor party?" Ella nodded. Sophie's expression hardened. "And he took you home anyway? What an absolute dick." "I asked him to," Ella confessed. Blaming Landon alone would have been easy, but she couldn't do it. Whatever his faults, she had made her own choice, and she needed to admit that. Caroline slipped effortlessly into her stern, patient Dad voice. "Why would you ask when you already knew he was about to get married?" "Because I wanted to do one reckless thing!" Ella shouted. The sudden fury silenced everyone. "For twenty-four years, I did everything right. I obeyed every rule and saved myself for the man I thought deserved me. What did any of that get me? My engagement ended a month before the day that was supposed to be the happiest of my life." "Ella, I'm so sorry," Caroline murmured. "If people were fair, if everyone actually followed the rules, I'd still be in Grenada right now on my honeymoon with my husband." Ella wiped at her face. "I know sleeping with Landon was wrong. I shouldn't have done it. Now I'm no better than Olivia, because I slept with another woman's man." Her voice cracked, but she kept going. "I was tired of being fair while everyone else hurt me. And for at least seven hours, I was happy in his arms. I was so unbelievably happy. Now that same empty feeling I've been carrying for six weeks is back." Sophie studied her with open concern. "Oh, Ella. It sounds as if you've fallen hard for him." The suggestion stunned Ella. She couldn't imagine how Sophie had reached such an absurd conclusion. "No. Landon was a rebound. I still love Samuel." Lila's gaze dropped to the princess-cut diamond flashing on Ella's finger. "Then is that why you're still wearing his ring?" "You need to remove it," Caroline said, repeating the advice she'd been giving for weeks. As she had every other time, Ella ignored them. Keeping the ring was tacky as fuck, and she knew she should have returned it. Yet it remained the only solid evidence that the previous four years had existed, that their love had once been genuine, and that she had mattered to Samuel at some point. Had he allowed her to keep Sugar, the Maltese poodle they had adopted together through the animal shelter where they volunteered, she would have handed the diamond back without hesitation. "I'm going to sleep." Ella drained her coffee and set the mug on the bamboo table, a hand-me-down from Sophie's parents. As she walked away, Lila called after her. "Are you visiting your parents today? Do you want us to wake you later?" Ella answered with a dismissive shrug. Without stating it outright, her parents had made their position obvious: the failed engagement was entirely her fault. She had no appetite for another session of accusations and shredded self-esteem masquerading as a well-intentioned family lunch. Inside her bedroom, she closed the curtains and crawled beneath the heavy, vividly colored duvet. She surrounded herself with the countless scatter cushions covering her queen-sized four-poster bed, then cried until sleep took her. Before dreams of Landon crowded into her restless mind, one final coherent thought drifted through it: would she ever lie against thousand-thread-count sheets again? Chapter 6: 6|Used and Unaccountably Betrayed ============================================================ Landon woke sometime after noon, dragging himself out of the heavy fog that followed a night of sex and too much alcohol. He had expected Ella to be asleep beside him. Women rarely left his bed before he gave them a reason to go. The empty space next to him unsettled him more than it should have. He pushed himself upright with a groan. Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stabbing at his skull, and then became even worse when Declan crossed the room and switched on the blind controls. "For God's sake, Declan. Do you mind?" "My apologies, sir. You have been called back to the house. Your father insists on seeing you at once." "Tell him I'll deal with him tomorrow." Landon accepted the hangover remedy and the two Aspirin Declan held out. If his father got his way, even that would not be enough. "He expects you home within the hour," Declan said before turning toward the door. "Wait. Take care of Ella for me." Declan paused. "She has already gone, sir." Landon stared at him. "Gone where?" "Away. She left the house." "Did she make a scene?" Women usually did once they realized he intended to end the evening. He would not have been surprised if Ella had done the same. "Not at all, sir. She seemed determined to leave. In fact, she nearly ran out. Had she been able to arrange it, she would have taken an Uber-" "That doesn't make sense." Landon rubbed his temple and shook his head. He hardly ever brought women home. Life on the racing circuit consumed most of his time, and the few women who did make it back with him tended to change their minds once they discovered who he was. He was accustomed to asking them to leave. On occasion, security had to help. "Are you certain it was Ella?" he asked. "Brown hair. Petite. Cute. About this tall?" He marked the height with one hand. Declan gave a firm nod. Somewhere, there had to be a misunderstanding. Landon held out his hand, accepted the robe Declan offered, and pulled it over his shoulders. Then he climbed out of bed and went looking for himself. He checked the sitting room first, then the dining space. The patio came next. He had convinced himself that Ella must be stretched out beside the heated pool, enjoying the morning as though she owned the place. She was nowhere. The timid-looking librarian had slipped away while he slept, and the discovery left him absurdly irritated. He ought to have been grateful. Her departure spared him the strained conversation that usually followed a hookup. Instead, he felt blindsided. Ella had not seemed like the sort to disappear quietly. Not with that temper. Not after the fearless way she had approached him. He had already anticipated trouble. She would decide that their single night together meant something permanent, and he would have to disappoint her without making an enemy. His solution had been simple: take her shopping, let her select the most dazzling diamond necklace she could find, and have someone drive her back to the duplex he imagined she lived in. She radiated one-bedroom-duplex energy. By the time he returned t...

Where the ad sends people

read.tapread.com

Read next chapter👉🏻

Read next chapter👉🏻