The Don's Unwanted Bride

CHAPTER 15

Alyssa’s POV

“You’re so sweet,” he groaned as his body moved with mine, slow and intentional, like he was savoring every second of being inside me.

My back arched as I clutched the sheets beneath me, gasping at the overwhelming sensation that threatened to swallow me whole. It was like nothing I had ever felt, intense, emotional, terrifying in its beauty.

We came together, a tangle of limbs, sweat, and soft gasps, and I collapsed into him, heart racing, skin tingling. His breath fanned against my neck as he pressed gentle kisses there.

For a moment, we didn’t speak.

Then, he pulled back slightly and looked me in the eyes. There was something in his gaze I couldn’t quite place, shock, admiration, maybe guilt?

He brushed a strand of hair off my face. “Were you… a virgin?”

I hesitated. But what was the point in lying now? I nodded, my eyes shifting to the side.

“Damn,” he whispered, almost to himself. “Why didn’t you say something?”

I swallowed, trying to find the right words. “Because if I did, would you have stopped?”

He didn’t answer.

I rolled over, suddenly feeling cold, even with the warmth of his body still lingering beside me. My heart pounded erratically as guilt and confusion battled inside me. What had I just done?

I wasn’t sure if it was lust, longing, desperation or something else entirely. All I knew was that for one night, I wanted to forget who I was. I wanted to feel something real, something intense. And he had given me that, without even knowing the truth.

He reached out and brushed his fingers down my back. “You didn’t have to use it like that.”

I turned back to him. “Use what?”

“Your innocence.”

That stung. “I didn’t use anything,” I said defensively. “I wanted this.”

His brows furrowed, but he didn’t argue. He just stared at me, his mouth slightly parted like he wanted to say something more but couldn’t.

His phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

And then again.

Persistent, irritating, loud.

He let out a frustrated groan and sat up. I instinctively wrapped the sheet around myself, watching him move.

God, he was beautiful. Even in the dim light filtering through the blinds, his muscular body glistened slightly with sweat, his back tense as he reached for his phone on the bedside table.

“Who the hell is calling at four in the morning?” he muttered.

I looked at the clock. He was right. It was barely 4 AM.

He picked the call without checking the caller ID. “What?”

His face changed.

I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end, but I could see the shift in his posture. Alert. Confused. Then stunned.

“I’ll be right there,” he said quickly, ending the call.

He didn’t say another word to me. Just stood up, pulled on his jeans, and started buttoning his shirt with urgent fingers.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, heart thudding for a completely different reason now.

He paused halfway through buttoning his shirt. His eyes softened as they met mine. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

That answer didn’t help. It only made the knot in my stomach tighten.

He moved toward the door but paused, glancing back at me with a half-smile. “Get some rest.”

Then he was gone.

I sat there in silence, the air suddenly too heavy to breathe.

I pulled the sheets tighter around me and inhaled deeply. His scent was still on the pillow. It made me ache. Made me want to cry for reasons I didn’t understand.

How had we gone from him being my boss to him… becoming this?

I bit my lip and let my fingers trace the sheets absentmindedly. I should’ve felt regret.

But all I could think about was the way he’d looked at me before he left. Like he didn’t know whether to stay or run.

And then the tears came. Slowly at first, then in hot, silent streams down my cheeks.

I hated how vulnerable I felt. How exposed. Like giving him a piece of myself had unraveled everything I’d tried so hard to hide.

My fists clenched the sheet. “You idiot, Alyssa,” I whispered to myself..

The longer I sat there, the more restless I became. My body ached, not from the sex, but from the emptiness that followed.

So I got up, quickly slipped into a robe, and padded down the hallway, heart thudding louder with each step. The lights were dim, the house quiet, too quiet.

I stopped in front of his door and raised my hand to knock, when I heard voices.

I froze.

I pressed myself against the door, trying to make out what was being said.

“She is the one. Alyssa Martini. The woman you were supposed to be married to six months ago… the one who fled.”

My blood turned to ice.

What?

My body stiffened, the breath sucked out of me.

Inside, there was a pause.

Then his voice, low and filled with disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“Her name is Andrea now. But her real name is Alyssa Martini,” Donovan said, voice steady. “She’s Nicolai Martini’s daughter. Your fiancée.”

A sharp gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it.

I stumbled back from the door, hands trembling, heart racing like a wild animal in a cage.

No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, backing away down the hall, the walls spinning around me.

I turned and ran.