The CEO’s Bed Toy

It was already dark by the time we got to the club.

Not just nightfall.. dark.

The kind of dark that swallows up your thoughts and gives you permission to be someone else.

The kind of dark that makes mistakes look like choices.

The place Eliza dragged me to was called Noir. Some upscale spot I’d heard of but never had the nerve.. or need.. to visit. Too loud. Too full. Too dark.

Just enough to make terrible decisions in.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” I muttered as we stepped inside.

“You will be,” Eliza replied, linking her arm through mine like she was afraid I’d try to bolt. “You need this, Sasha.”

I didn't argue. Not because I believed her.. but because I didn't know what else to do.

The bass pounded through the walls, vibrating in my chest.

Strobe lights painted the crowd in blue and violet.

Everyone looked glossy and high on something. I felt like I was moving underwater, each step slower than the last.

Still, I followed her.

We pushed through bodies and perfume and cologne until we reached the bar. Eliza signaled the bartender like she came here every Friday night.

“Two tequila shots. Top shelf,” she shouted.

“Make it four,” I added, surprising even myself.

She turned to me with a smirk. “ Atta girl.”

I downed the first one too fast. The burn felt like punishment.. and I welcomed it. My eyes watered, and for a second, I almost laughed. Or cried. Or both.

“What a birthday,” I said, voice raw.

“You’ re damn right,” Eliza said, tossing her shot back. “To endings.”

I stared at my second shot. Then raised it.

“To being dumped in front of fifty people while wearing false lashes.”

She winced. “Too soon.”

We laughed, but mine broke in the middle. My hand flew to my mouth as my face crumpled. And there it was.. the first sob.

“ Liz… ” I whispered.

“I know.” She pulled me into a tight hug. “I know. Let it out.”

I did.

Not cute, quiet crying either.. the ugly kind. Shoulders shaking, makeup streaking, snot and all.

I let my body fold into hers while the music pulsed behind us like it had no idea someone’s heart had just cracked open on the floor.

After a few minutes, Eliza pulled back and cupped my face. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.”

“No, like raccoon eyes but make it couture.”

I gave a weak smile. She grabbed a napkin and dabbed at my cheeks gently.

“No more tears. You don’t waste mascara on bastards. Especially not ones who say ‘I feel stuck’ as an excuse.”

“God, what does that even mean?” I sniffled.

“It means he’s basic. And possibly constipated.”

I choked on a laugh.

“There she is.” She motioned to the bartender. “We need two more.”

Somewhere between the third and fourth round, things got hazy. Not blacked out.. just loose around the edges.

I knew I was drunk.

I felt it in the way my body swayed to the beat, in how my hands gestured too big when I talked, in how the world didn't feel like it was pressing down on me anymore.

“I want you to make out with someone,” Eliza said suddenly.

I turned to her. “What?”

“Just make out. Minimum. If he’s hot enough and respectful and into it… you could even go for the full birthday package.”

“You’ re insane.”

“Not denying it.”

“You want me to sleep with a stranger?”

She shrugged. “It’s New York. That’s practically therapy.”

I shook my head and sipped something pink and sweet I didn't remember ordering. “I can’t do that. I’m not that kind of girl.”

“You were his kind of girl,” she said. “And look where that got you.”

Oof.

I looked away. That one hit too close.

Then she nudged me. “Okay, but what about him?”

I followed her gaze.

And froze.

Across the room, near the second bar under the balcony.. he stood.

Even from a distance, something about him made my chest pull tight.

It wasn't just how he looked.. though that didn't hurt. He was tall, dark suit, no tie, clean lines, and easy posture like the room moved around him, not the other way. But it was his energy.. calm, magnetic. Unbothered. While everyone else buzzed, he just watched.

“Holy crap,” Eliza whispered. “Do you see that aura ? That is not an average man. That man owns yachts.”

“Stop.”

“I’m serious. That is billionaire energy. Or at least rich-enough-not-to-care energy. Look at the watch.”

I tried not to, but she was right. He looked… expensive.

“I’m going over there,” she said.

“ Eliza… ”

“I’ ll leave you room to breathe, in case your destiny wants to flirt.”

Before I could respond, she melted into the crowd.

Of course she did.

I turned back toward the bar, heart pounding. Took a sip of whatever was left in my glass and tried to focus on breathing.

And then he was beside me.

Just like that.

I didn't even see him approach. He was just there… a quiet presence, heat rolling off his skin like electricity. My pulse jumped.

I shifted, and my elbow knocked over my drink.. straight onto him.

“Oh my God.”

I grabbed napkins, trying to blot the whiskey off his sleeve.

“I am so, so sorry… ”

“It’s fine,” he said. His voice was low, smooth, unhurried.

I looked up.

And forgot how to breathe.

Up close, he was even more ridiculously handsome. Sharp jaw. Full lips. Eyes so dark they felt like secrets. His expression was unreadable… not cold, not warm. Just… watching me.

“You okay?” he asked.

I blinked. “No. Yes. I mean, it’s my birthday. I think. Is it still my birthday?”

He smiled.

It wasn't big. Just enough to shift the air between us.

“You’ ve had a night,” he said.

“You have no idea.”

I was aware of how close we were. How my knee almost brushed his. How his cologne smelled like something I’d get addicted to.

He didn't say much. He didn't need to.

He just let me talk… nonsense, mostly. Something about heartbreak, tequila, overpriced heels. I wasn't even sure if I was making sense. But he listened.

And the longer we stood there, the more the weight in my chest loosened.

Eventually, he leaned closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough to offer.

“You wanna get out of here?” he asked.

I should have said no.

Instead, I nodded.

***

His hotel was five blocks away.

Sleek. Quiet.

The lobby was marble and gold and velvet. The elevator smelled like cedarwood.

We didn't speak much.

I barely remembered the walk. Just the way he looked at me like he saw through everything. Like he knew this wasn't about sex, not really. That it was about wanting to feel something other than rejection.

The room was huge. Clean lines, soft light, too many pillows.

And then he kissed me.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't patient. It was fast and hungry and perfect.

We didn't undress slowly. There were no whispered sweet nothings. Just tangled sheets and skin and breath.

I knew it was reckless.

I knew it was wild.

I didn't care.

Because for once, I wasn't thinking about Troy. Or work. Or being the responsible girl who always did what she was supposed to.

For once, I just was.

And it felt good.

So when we collapsed into bed, skin still warm, my heart pounding in my throat, I didn't ask for his name.

And he didn't ask for mine.

No strings. No consequences.

Or so I thought.