Chapter 16: Dirty Games and Broken Heels
The office was abuzz with activity, as usual, but Kirah moved through it like a ghost. The stares, the murmurs behind hands, and the not-so-subtle chuckles from jealous colleagues—it was all too much. And yet, she wore her strength like armor. She had to. Because the alternative was to break, and Kirah wasn't in the business of falling apart in front of vultures.
But no matter how focused she tried to be, every click of her heels on the marble floor echoed the bitterness blooming in her chest.
"Let them talk," she muttered under her breath. "They don't know a damn thing."
Still, she couldn't deny it hurt. The rumors. The way Dominic had shifted. From being gentle, warm, and craving her every inch to a man cloaked in cold indifference. He hadn't spared her a single look since the day after their night together. Not a smirk. Not a raised brow. Nothing.
Like she was just another ticked box in his list of dirty games.
She cursed him silently. Again and again.
"How dare he," she whispered to herself, eyes glued to her laptop screen. "How dare he make me feel unseen after taking something so precious from me?"
She could still feel him, taste him. That night had meant something to her—something raw and real. But now, it felt like she was just another conquest. A pawn in a billionaire's bedroom power play. And she hated herself for being affected.
Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by the news that Dominic's mother was leaving the building. Protocol dictated that key executives and a few staff members were to escort her to her car.
Kirah was summoned too.
Of course.
She joined the group reluctantly, still trying to recover from the earlier embarrassment. The woman had walked into her office like she owned every brick of Vierra Holdings—and maybe she did. But Kirah had no idea who she was. And of all things, offended her "godamn" .
And now here Kirah was, tailing the group as they surrounded the perfectly preserved woman in luxury heels and a fur coat, like she was royalty. Of course,she is.
Dominic walked beside his mother, his back straight, his face unreadable.
Kirah kept her distance, but fate had other plans.
As the group approached the elevator, a small, careless shift in direction brought Dominic directly in her path. The crowd around them shifted too quickly, and he accidentally brushed against her, his broad shoulder knocking her slightly off balance.
Her heel snapped with a sharp crack.
Kirah stumbled.
Dominic turned sharply.
Their eyes met—hers filled with suppressed fury and humiliation, his colder than they'd ever been.
"Sorry," he said simply. No tone. No warmth. Just a cold, detached word that felt more like a slap than an apology.
Kirah stared at him, unblinking, as if daring him to say more.
But he turned away. Just like that. Back to his mother.
She clenched her jaw, suppressing the scream rising inside her.
By the end of the day, Kirah was spent.
Her body was still, but her mind screamed. She didn't want to go home. Didn't want to answer her mother's questions. Didn't want her little brother teasing her. She needed peace. Silence. Space to breathe and let her emotions spill if they must.
There was only one place for that—Naya's.
Naya, her ride-or-die. The only one who knew everything.
She didn't bother to call. She just needed a place to crash—maybe cry a little, maybe pretend she wasn't breaking inside.
She unlocked the front door with the spare key Naya had given her months ago.
The second she stepped in, her eyes widened.
Moans.
"Ou ..yea...yes babes...fuck..ohh..goshhh
Ahhh"
Loud, passionate, raunchy moans.
She froze at the entrance, her jaw dropping.
Naya was riding her man like she was chasing a championship. Cowgirl style, her toned body arching and grinding in rhythm. Her head thrown back in pleasure, and the man beneath her gripping her thighs like his life depended on it.
"Oh my God," Kirah whispered, half in shock, half amused.
Naya's eyes flung open when she heard the door. For a brief moment, their eyes locked in pure horror. Naya gasped mid-moan and scrambled for the sheet, tumbling off her man in the most chaotic, ungraceful way.
"Kirah!" she yelled, voice breaking. "Jesus! What are you doing here?!"
Kirah turned around immediately, eyes covered with both hands, trying not to burst out laughing or crying. She wasn't even sure which emotion was winning at this point.
"Sorry! I—I didn't know. I should have called," she stammered, still facing the door.
Behind her, a mess of tangled sheets and whispered curses unfolded.
Naya finally ran to the doorway, wrapped in the sheet like a poorly constructed toga. Her face was beet red, but she couldn't help laughing either.
"You really have the worst timing, babe," she muttered, smirking.
Kirah let out a shaky chuckle and finally turned to face her. "You looked like you were... working hard."
"Don't tease me!" Naya groaned. "Why didn't you call?!"
"I just needed somewhere to cry in peace."
That shut Naya up.
She stepped forward and grabbed her hand. "You okay?"
Kirah shook her head.
Naya didn't need more explanation. She guided her through from her man's naked sweat body to the guest room, pulled out her clothes from the drawer, and left her with a kiss on the cheek. "Let me just finish up my business," she joked, "then I'm all yours."
Kirah lay down and stared at the ceiling.
Dominic. His coldness. Her broken heart. The humiliation.
But somewhere between exhaustion and Naya's soft humming in the kitchen later that night, she let herself feel. And cry. And maybe—just maybe—start to build a new kind of strength. And definitely get a new apartment for her family.