Chapter 3 Chapter 003
Vamica’s POV
For a breathless beat I didn’t move. His cock was still heavy on my tongue, his hand coiled in my hair, the low rumble in his chest echoing through me like a second heartbeat. Then he pushed, urging me lower, until I gagged around him, the stretch too much, my chest seizing for air. The haze shattered—shame, fear, the reminder of how fragile I really was flooding in like ice water.
Reality crashed in
I gagged and pulled back, breath scraping out in ragged strips. My lips were wet and swollen; shame flared hot as I wiped my mouth with the back of my shaking hand.
“No… I can’t.” It rasped out raw, more a plea to myself than to him. My chest thudded too fast, every beat a threat.
I scrambled off the bed, clutching for the thin dress on the chair. Silk stuck to my skin, a clumsy halo of scent and sin. I dragged it over my body, fingers fumbling at the straps, cheeks burning like I’d been branded.
He didn’t move.
He didn’t chase, didn’t curse, didn’t even stand. He just lounged there, bare skin gleaming, eyes hooded and hungry, mouth curved like he was tasting me all over again. He watched me pull my dress on with a heat that said he could wait—because he already knew I’d come back
I bolted.
The hallway blurred, my heartbeat a loud, angry fist in my ears. I prayed the strange steadiness he’d wrapped around it would last long enough to get me home, long enough to choke down a pill before my heart tore itself out in protest.
The apartment was dark and smelled old, the kind of familiar that made my chest ache. I stumbled into the kitchen, tore open the cabinet, and grabbed the pill bottle with shaky hands. Two pills, bitter as chalk, scraped down my throat dry. I leaned hard on the counter, elbows pressing into the wood, and waited for my heartbeat to calm.
It did. Slowly. Like it hated me for needing it.
My reflection in the microwave door looked back at me: smeared lipstick I didn’t remember putting on, pupils blown wide, a stranger wearing my face.
The shower hissed. Steam climbed the mirror in ghosty coils, and I stood under the water too long, letting it beat shame and heat off my skin in hot needles. Every time I closed my eyes, his mouth was there, his voice, the sound he made when I nodded for him. I hated the way my body answered the memory—how my thighs pressed together just thinking about the way he said the word “open”.
By the time I stepped out, my phone buzzed. Lila’s name lit the screen like a lifeline.
“Dad… he hurt Mom again,” Lila’s voice cracked, thin with exhaustion. “I’ve been at the hospital all night. She’s bruised, Vami. My brother’s terrified.”
My throat closed. “Oh, Lila… I’m so sorry. I wish I could be there with you. I hate that you’re going through this.”
Silence hummed for a beat before I added, “I paid for Grandma’s surgery. They’ll go ahead with it.”
A shaky sigh left her. “Thank God. At least something’s going right tonight.” Then, softer, hesitant: “And… the massage? Was he okay with you?”
The lie burned all the way up. “Yeah,” I forced out, trying to sound casual. “It was fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Good,” she whispered, her voice softer now. “I needed that win for you. Text me if you need me, okay?”
“You too,” I said, meaning it more than I could explain.
When the call ended, I just sat there with the phone in my lap, guilt chewing through me.
I threw on clothes without thinking and hurried back to the hospital. The ICU hit me like a cold tide the moment I stepped in—machines blinking, steady hums filling the air, nurses gliding past with that quiet, practiced care that made everything feel heavier.
And then I saw her.
Grandma looked so small under those sheets, her skin nearly the same color as the fabric, her chest rising and falling only because of the tubes and wires that surrounded her. My throat ached as I stepped closer, fingers clutching the rail of her bed like it could hold me up.
The doctor’s voice cut through the static in my head. Calm. Professional. “Your timely payment saved her life.”
I blinked hard, tears blurring the steady green glow of the monitor. Relief hit me so hard my knees almost buckled. I wanted to laugh, to sob, to fall on my knees all at once. She was still here. The perfect consolation for my naughty behaviour was justified by his words.
“Stay with me,” I whispered. “Please, please stay.”
She didn’t answer, but her lashes fluttered like a promise.
I watched the rise and fall of her chest and let the chair carve into my back. Somewhere in the blur between minutes, the room softened and I slipped under, haunted by cedar-scented sheets and a mouth that branded more than skin. I hated how much I’d wanted it. I hated how much I still did.
Morning dragged me out of sleep with the buzz of my phone rattling against the metal table. The sound felt too loud in the quiet room. I grabbed it fast, thumb hitting silence before it could wake Grandma. She needed rest more than I needed another scare.
It rang again. Persistent.
I sighed and answered. “Hello?”
“Miss Vamica Daniels?” The voice was crisp, professional, and completely out of place in ICU air. “Congratulations. You’ve been selected for employment at Leads Corp. Your interview is scheduled for this morning.”
I blinked so hard the world stuttered. “I…what?”
“Leads Corp,” the voice repeated, patient. “, 10am this morning. Please be prompt.”
The line clicked dead, and I sat there with the phone pressed to my ear like it might admit it was a prank if I listened hard enough.
Leads Corp. The same company that had already rejected me with polished words and polite pity. The one my professors spoke about like it was untouchable, a fortress only the best could enter. I’d kept their rejection email like a scar I couldn’t stop poking. And now—this?
