Chapter 4

• It was past eleven pm. Club inferno was buzzing with the dance floor choked with sweaty party goers. It was a pulsating cavern of sound and sweaty delight, the bass thudding through the floorboards and vibrating in Renee's chest.
• Colourful lights strobed across the packed dance floor, illuminating a sea of gyrating bodies. The air was filled with the scent of sweat, expensive perfume, and spilled alcohol. It was overwhelmingly disorienting.
• "Come on, Renee! Let's dance!" Chloe shrieked over the music, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the centre of the chaos.
• Renee found herself swept into the rhythm, moving awkwardly at first, then with a little more abandon as the music's infectious beat took hold. She tried to lose herself in the moment, to forget Kelvin, to forget the wedding even if it was just for a moment.
• After a while, a waiter, impeccably dressed in a black waistcoat, approached their group with a tray of gleaming shot glasses. "Compliments of the house, ladies!" he announced, his voice barely audible above the din. "A special bridal shower toast!"
• "Ooh, shots!" Leah exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. She grabbed a glass for herself, Brenda, and Chloe, then handed one to Renee. "Go on, Renee! One won't hurt! To your big day!"
• Renee hesitated, remembering her promise. "Just one," she muttered, raising the glass. The liquid was clear and potent, burning a path down her throat. It tasted vaguely sweet, then sharp.
• Almost immediately, a strange warmth spread through her, a dizzying lightness that was more intense than a single shot should have caused.
• The music seemed to get louder, the lights brighter, the crowd more vibrant. She felt a sudden, exhilarating surge of energy, a reckless abandon she hadn't felt in years.
• Leah, watching Renee, gave the waiter a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. The waiter, his face impassive, nodded back, a flicker of understanding passing between them. He then discreetly pulled out his phone, his movements hidden by the throng of dancers.
• Renee was laughing now, a genuine, uninhibited laugh that surprised even herself. She was dancing vigorously, her body swaying, her hips moving with a freedom she hadn't known she possessed.
• It was all fun until a man, a stranger with salacious eyes and a friendly smile, started dancing near her, and Renee, in her suddenly uninhibited state, found herself mirroring his movements, laughing as he spun her around. She was utterly disconnected from the world around her.
• The waiter, meanwhile, was busy. His phone was held low, almost at hip level, but its camera was focused squarely on Renee. He snapped a series of photos tapping a tiny remote in his hand: most of the photos would appear sexually suggestive, her body pressed close to the stranger, her head thrown back in wild abandon.
• After a few more minutes, the waiter, having completed his task, moved closer to Renee. He gently touched her arm, his voice calm amidst the chaos. "Excuse me, madam. Are you alright? You seem a little… disoriented. Perhaps you should take a break from the dance floor."
• Renee blinked, her eyes hazy. "Disoriented? Me? Nonsense!" she slurred. She laughed, a little too loudly. "I'm having the time of my life! Leave me alone, I know the way to my room. I'm a big girl!" She blurted mindlessly before she waved him away, her arm nearly knocking over his tray.
• The waiter, unperturbed, stepped back. He gave Renee one last, assessing look, then his gaze flickered to a man standing in a darker corner of the club, near a secluded VIP section. The man was tall, well-built, with a leather jacket slung over his arm, his face obscured by the shadows. The waiter gave another subtle nod, a quick, almost imperceptible gesture. The strange man in the corner, who had been watching Renee for a while, gave an equally subtle acknowledgement. The job was not yet finished.
• Renee, feeling a sudden urge for fresh air, stumbled away from the dance floor, pushing through the dense crowd. Her head was swimming. She just needed to get back to her room, to lie down. She swayed slightly, bumping into people, murmuring apologies that were lost in the noise.
• The man from the corner, moved swiftly, melting into the crowd, following Renee's erratic path. He needed to make sure she got to her room, the right room. This was the final part of the plan. He kept a steady distance, navigating the throng with his eyes fixed on her yellow dress.
• But then, a sudden surge of people erupted from a side corridor, a gaggle of women, laughing and shrieking, hurrying to join the party downstairs. They were loud, boisterous, and completely oblivious to anything but their own excitement. They swarmed between him and Renee, a human wall that momentarily swallowed Renee from his sight.
• "Bloody hell!" he muttered under his breath, frustration tightening his jaw.
• He pushed through the new arrivals, trying to catch another glimpse of Renee, but she had vanished.
• The crowd was too thick, the lighting too dim. He scanned the faces, the dresses, but she was gone. He cursed again. He didn't know which room she had entered. The plan was compromised. He couldn't risk being seen wandering the hotel corridors, especially not now. "Damn it," he muttered, his voice laced with annoyance. He turned, melting back into the shadows.
• Renee, meanwhile, had somehow navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the hotel. Her head was spinning, the world tilting precariously. She fumbled with a key card, somehow managing to swipe it against a door. But found it open. She stumbled inside, pushing the door shut behind her.
• The room was dimly lit, but even in her drunken haze, Renee noticed something odd. It was too neat. Too perfectly arranged. Her clothes, her handbag, her scattered belongings from earlier were nowhere in sight. This wasn't her room. But her head was too hazy and overwhelmed to care. The bed, a vast, inviting expanse of white linen, beckoned. With a grunt of effort, she slipped out of her dress, letting it fall to the floor in a shimmering heap. Her shoes followed, then her underwear. Naked, she threw herself onto the bed, the soft mattress swallowing her. Darkness claimed her almost instantly, a heavy, dreamless oblivion.
• ***
• The thumping bass of music still reverberated in Taylor's ears as he stumbled out of the club, the cool night air wrapped him sending shock-trills against his flushed face as he made his way to his room.
• “Woooohooo!!! I am so fucking back!!” He yelled out to whoever cared to listen.
• He was, as he’d promised Maxwell, thoroughly wasted. The world was in gliding motion around him, the bright lights of the hotel lobby blurring into streaks of colour.
• Laughter bubbled up from deep within him, a carefree, uninhibited feeling he rarely allowed himself enveloped him. This was the escape he craved, the sweet sensation that dulled the edges of his demanding life.
• He fumbled for his room key, the small plastic card feeling strangely heavy in his numb fingers.
• He giggled, a boyish sound, as he finally managed to swipe it.
• Everything was looking blurry.
• When the doors to his suite finally slid open on his floor, he swayed slightly, leaning against the cold wall for a moment, trying to regain his bearings.
• He kicked off his shoes, letting them fall with soft thuds across the carpet. His tie followed, then his shirt, discarded carelessly onto the floor.
• He made his way towards the bedroom, a vague sense of anticipation stirring within him.
• Maxwell's "surprise" awaited.
• He pushed open the bedroom door, and the sight that greeted him caused him to pause, a slow, drunken smile spreading across his face.
• Lying sprawled across the vast king-sized bed, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, was a pretty woman.
• She was naked, her body alluring silhouette against the white sheets.
• Her dark hair fanned out around her head. She was utterly beautiful, even in her unconscious state, her curves soft and inviting.
• Her chest rose and fell gently with each breath, a picture of serene vulnerability.
• where did Maxwell find this beauty, he thought as he approached.
• "Well, hello there, surprise treat," Taylor slurred, his voice croaked with whisky and amusement. He certainly hadn't expected her to be quite so… unwrapped.
• Maxwell had truly outdone himself, he thought.
• This was exactly what he needed.
• No awkward introductions, no polite small talk.
• Just straight to be point.
• He stumbled towards the bed, his movements clumsy but determined.
• He shed the rest of his clothes as he went, letting them fall to the floor in a messy trail.
• The cool sheets felt heavenly against his heated skin as he climbed onto the bed, sliding in beside her. The scent of her, subtle and clean, filled his nostrils, mixing with the lingering scent of alcohol and his own sexual desire.
• Renee stirred, a soft moan escaping her lips. Her body, still lagged with the lingering effects of the spiked drink, instinctively sought warmth and comfort. She shifted, her hand reaching out, brushing against Taylor's bare broad chest. Her fingers, soft and tentative, explored the taut muscles of his torso, a subconscious response to his proximity.
• Taylor chuckled softly, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her hip, then sliding up her smooth side. "Oh, you're a responsive one, aren't you, love?" he murmured, leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear. He loved a woman who wasn't shy, who met his advances with an equal fire.
• It drove him mad as she responded to his every touch.
• Renee's eyes fluttered open, still hazy.
• The room was still spinning in her eyes, the light from the lamp made her squint each time she looked at it. But then her eyes captured the dark shape towering her, a familiar scent – Kelvin's cologne, or something similar, strong and masculine.
• Her mind, still swimming in a fog, registered the warmth, the touch, the presence of a man doing something to her her. She felt it was Kelvin. He had come back. And he was finally going to get what he wanted.
• A wave of resignation, tinged with a strange, drunken curiosity, washed over her. Her body, disconnected from her conscious will.
• "Kelvin?" Renee mumbled, she moaned inaudibly with sleep and the lingering effects of the drug. Her hand, still on his chest, curled into a fist, then relaxed. "Why… why can't you wait? Until our wedding night?" The words were barely coherent, a desperate plea from the depths of her subconscious, a last, futile attempt to cling to the boundaries she had set. A faint tremor ran through her.
• Taylor paused, his lips hovering just above hers. He chuckled, a low, husky sound that vibrated through her. He misinterpreted her words, his alcohol-addled brain twisting them into a playful challenge. "Oh, I like a good role play, love," he whispered, his voice laced with drunken amusement and burgeoning desire. He thought she was playing a game, a seductive tease designed to heighten the anticipation. "But tonight, my darling, is our wedding night. And I intend to make the most of it. Every single moment."
• He didn't wait for a response.
• His lips descended, ferociously claiming hers in a deep, hungry kiss.
• It was a kiss that was both passionately forceful and sweetly tender, demanding and exploratory.
• Renee, her mind too muddled to resist, too lazy to fully comprehend, responded instinctively.
• “Kelvin what are you doing to me” she tried to say, her voice in between moans and a weak protest.
• “Shhhhhh, just let daddy work his magic on you baby” Taylor responded in a gentle grumble.