Mechelle POV
In the luxurious presidential suite, sparkling crystal chandeliers cast a soft light, creating a romantic atmosphere. The sounds of breathing and the friction of bodies intertwined filled the room.
I hid in the closet with louvred doors, covering my mouth and curling up. Embarrassing noises came from outside, and I felt a wave of shame, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, my heart filled with anxiety and panic.
Through the window, I could clearly see his strong back and powerful movements. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil within me.
Suddenly, the phone rang. My heart raced as I frantically searched for the phone, but the more urgent I became, the harder it was to find.
Finally, I found the phone and quickly silenced it, but at the same time, the closet door was forcefully pulled open.
"Come out!" His hoarse and angry voice pierced my ears, his anger almost turning me into ashes.
"Ah..." I saw something I shouldn't have seen.
Terrified and at a loss, I forgot to look away or close my eyes, staring at him unabashedly, my face burning hot...
"Mechelle Diaz, what are you doing?" His angry voice was accompanied by the woman's complaints behind him.
"Do you know her?" The man didn't turn around, just coldly asked the woman behind him, his gaze still fixed on me cowering in the closet, a fleeting strangeness flashing in the depths of his profound eyes.
"She's my friend, Mr. Duncan!" The woman answered nervously.
"A friend like you?" The man's tone implied sacrificing oneself for money.
"Yes!" The woman glared at me with resentment.
Feeling the woman's resentful gaze, I lowered my head uneasily. I muttered softly, "Didn't you ask me to bring clothes? Do you think I'm willing to see this ridiculous performance of yours?"
"I told you to come out, didn't you hear?" The man said again in a low voice. His voice was like coming from hell, cold, angry, emanating an invisible sense of oppression, alpha's aura hitting me head-on.
"I..." My legs felt weak, trying to stand up but accidentally leaning forward. Subconsciously, I hugged the man's sturdy waist, my lips pressed tightly against a sensitive spot on him.
Silence, deathly silence.
"Ah—Mechelle Diaz, what are you doing!" The woman beside me screamed, her voice breaking the suddenness of the scene.
In the next moment, another scream followed. I suddenly realized, my cheeks burning red with embarrassment, "Ah—" I quickly released my hands and sat on the ground.
The man's face turned as dark as the sky before a storm, a hint of gloom flashing in his eyes. He leaned in, his fingers gripping my chin tightly, and sneered, "How despicable! You're so eager to climb into my bed! Unfortunately, I detest women who throw themselves at me."
"I, I'm not—" I bit my lip tightly, trying to endure the pain. I had never felt so wronged before, tears swirling in my eyes, ready to fall at any moment.
"Not what? You practically threw yourself at me. Did I misunderstand you?" He leaned closer, his handsome, aloof face looming large before me, his eyes deep as the night, seemingly flowing with emerald hues.
The pressure emanating from him made me instinctively shrink back, my eyes filled with fear, seeking help from the woman beside me.
But she didn't even glance at me, turning her face away, afraid of getting involved.
"Is this how you please other men normally?" He frowned, a large hand still invading my fully developed chest.
I pushed with all my strength while he was distracted. He was unprepared, stumbling backward a few steps.
Seizing the opportunity, I fled, twisting the doorknob frantically, but the door wouldn't open. By the time he realized it and caught up a few steps behind me, I was already there.
"Trying to run?" A powerful hand gripped my wrist, almost crushing my bones.
"Pain!" I groaned softly, internally cursing my luck. The more I struggled, the more intense the pain became.
This man had absolutely no compassion. I couldn't understand what Ivanka Diaz saw in him. Was it just for the money? I had heard a few days ago that Ivanka Diaz had borrowed money at a high interest rate and couldn't repay it...
"Speak! What did you see?" The man's voice was cold and sinister, like a calm thunderstorm.
"I..." I muttered softly, "Do you think I wanted to see? You were the one putting on a show in front of me..."
"What did you say? Say it again!" The man's patience had reached its limit, his face turning ashen.
"I saw everything!" I pushed with my knee against his abdomen while reaching for the doorknob. The door suddenly swung open. I dashed out of the room, hearing the man's angry voice behind me—
"You damned woman! Don't let me see you again, or you'll regret it!"
His voice sounded like it came from hell. I froze for a moment, drenched in cold sweat. Without hesitation, I sprinted away.
I ran into the elevator and collapsed against its cold wall, my legs already trembling with fear. I gasped for breath, continuously clutching my chest. I had come dangerously close to... almost dying...
Finally stumbling out of the elevator, I knew the man wouldn't chase after me immediately, especially since he wasn't wearing anything. By the time he came out after putting on clothes, I would have vanished without a trace.
When I got back home, it was already late. Afraid of waking up my already resting father, Morris, I took off my shoes and tiptoed towards the stairs. Suddenly, a voice filled with love sounded—
"Mechelle, why are you back so late? It's not safe outside, especially if you encounter rouges..."
The crystal chandelier in the living room instantly dispelled the darkness before me, momentarily blinding me. I pouted helplessly and turned to Morris, wrapping my arms around his neck, and smiled coyly, "Dad, I'm not a child anymore. Why do you still treat me like one?"
"Since you know you've grown up, you should make sure not to worry your father."
The Black Valley Pack was now in jeopardy. Morris couldn't understand where he had gone wrong. It was a cohesive pack, so why was it becoming more fragmented? What was the problem?
"Morris, please don't be angry. I promise I won't make you worry anymore, okay? Please forgive me this time." I gently stroked my father's chest, showing remorse.
Morris looked at me for a while, a hint of complicated helplessness flickering in his eyes. After a long sigh, he said, "Mechelle, come with me to the study. I need to talk to you."
"Okay!" I agreed, suddenly feeling an ominous premonition. I had never seen Morris look so serious. Could it be... something had happened?