Trapped in a One Night Stand relationship with an ex-lover

The pungent scent of alcohol mingled with a rich masculine fragrance, filling the air inside Room 404. Morgan staggered forward, his hand groping along the icy-cold wall in search of balance. His head throbbed violently, creating hazy illusions that danced behind his heavy eyelids. Beneath the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains, his blurred vision caught the silhouette of a woman lying on the king-size bed.

"You... finally came," Morgan whispered, his voice hoarse and heavy.

In his alcohol-clouded mind, the woman's features dissolved into the image of someone from his past—the first love he had always longed for. Morgan crawled onto the bed, his weight causing the spring mattress to sink beneath him.

On the other side, Camelia felt as though her entire body was on fire. The effects of the aphrodisiac she had unknowingly consumed at the party the previous night had now reached their peak, paralyzing both her reason and physical strength. She gasped for breath, desperately seeking the cool air from the room's air conditioner, which suddenly felt unbearably hot against her skin. When a large, warm body slowly pressed itself over hers, Camelia had no strength left to resist. Every touch from the man felt like icy water poured over her burning skin, awakening a primal instinct she could no longer control.

In the thick darkness of the room, the boundaries of reality crumbled. Their lips met in a demanding kiss, claiming one another without knowing who the other truly was. Morgan surrendered himself to instinct; his kisses trailed down her neck, across her shoulders, exploring every inch of Camelia's trembling body. That night, within the silent room, cries of passion and ragged breaths became the only melody accompanying the fate that had unwillingly bound them together.

The blazing morning sunlight streamed through the glass window, shining directly onto the disheveled bed. Camelia let out a soft groan as a pounding headache assaulted her temples. As she tried to move her aching body, she felt a strong, heavy arm wrapped tightly around her waist.

Camelia froze. Her eyes flew open at the sight of a broad, lightly-haired chest right before her face. Instantly, she yanked the blanket over her naked body and shoved the man away, causing him to wake with a startled gasp.

"Hey, damn it! Who are you? Why are you touching me?!" Camelia screamed hysterically, her shrill voice shattering the morning silence.

Morgan groaned, frowning deeply as his sleep was interrupted. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the glaring sunlight. As he sat up and the blanket slipped from his body, his gaze immediately fell upon his own chest. His tanned skin was covered with reddish-purple marks—the traces of wild kisses left by the woman before him the previous night.

Morgan lifted his head and stared sharply at the woman now curled up in the corner of the bed, her face deathly pale. His senses gradually returned as he recognized the familiar features before him.

"So it's you... Camelia? The woman I touched last night?" Morgan scoffed, his voice still thick with sleep.

Camelia's eyes widened the moment she recognized the man standing before her.

"Oh, it's you, Morgan?! Damn you! How did you get into my room?!" Camelia hurled the nearest pillow at Morgan's chest, her anger exploding without restraint.

Morgan caught the pillow effortlessly with one hand, a mocking smirk curling on his lips. Folding his arms across his chest, he looked Camelia up and down.

"Hey, Camelia. You've been in love with me since high school, haven't you?" Morgan leaned forward, his presence intimidating. "So now it's obvious. You're the one who deliberately sneaked into my bed to get what you wanted!"

Camelia's face flushed crimson, not with embarrassment, but with the humiliation of hearing those words. Her body trembled violently as rage boiled within her chest.

"You're incredibly full of yourself, Mr. Morgan!" Camelia snapped, pointing a finger straight at his nose. "I never wanted—nor would I ever be willing—to sleep with an arrogant man like you!"

"Don't lie!" Morgan seized the wrist that pointed at him, forcing her to meet his cold, piercing eyes. "I know women like you. I know you planned all of this because you wanted to become my wife, didn't you? Using your body as a ticket into my family's household?"

"Let go!" Camelia violently jerked her hand free. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, but she refused to cry in front of this despicable man. "You're completely insane! I have never wanted that position!"

Morgan merely scoffed dismissively. Ignoring Camelia's hateful glare, he climbed out of bed and calmly walked toward the dressing table where his suit and wallet lay. Casually opening the leather wallet, he pulled out a thick stack of cash in one-hundred-thousand-rupiah bills before returning to the bedside.

Smack!

Morgan tossed the bundle of cash onto the bed directly in front of Camelia. The banknotes scattered slightly across the wrinkled white sheets.

"Take this," Morgan said coldly, his voice flat and emotionless. "Use it to buy whatever you want, and pretend last night never happened. Take the money, leave this place, and don't ever think about bothering me again with any 'wife' drama or whatever it is."

Camelia stared at the pile of money before her, then slowly lifted her gaze to Morgan's arrogant face. Her hands clenched into tight fists until her knuckles turned white, struggling to keep herself from scratching the man's face right then and there.

"I'm not a prostitute! I will never accept your money!"