The Lost Bet

Can She Fight Fate?

Author's POV

Elena removed the shirt as soon as she got inside the bathroom. It had his scent which was intoxicating. But she was not ready to look at herself. Her body had marks. Her shoulder had swelled and a red mark was clear with his teeth's indentation. Same goes for her breast where he had bitten her. Her lips were swollen, she had a hickey, and even her waist had a mark where he had grabbed her. She looked battered which she was.

She sat down on the toilet and thought about the night. She had a normal day. If only John had not gone out, she could be sleeping in her home, in her room, beside her snoring husband now. Her husband, who betted her on a poker table. Elena's tears fell as she thought about John. He didn't even look up as he lost her, his wife. He only drank his drink and passed out. God knows what he must be doing now. Would he realize his mistake once he wakes up? But what would change? This man was not going to leave her. And what would happen even if John realizes that he has done irreparable damage to their lives? She was screwed by another man within a few hours of her divorce. Yes, she was a divorcee now. Nothing but a woman who was passed on by one man to another. She was nothing, but a lost bet.

Her gaze went to her legs. His seed was drying on her. She took a towel, wetted it and cleaned herself. But she knew, his marks will never fade away from her soul.

Aslan waited as she did whatever she wanted to. He was already feeling lonely in bed. Hs stomach grumbled and he sat up. She must be hungry too. And for what he had in mind, she would need energy. He smiled and stood up, looking for the menu. He knew what he wanted but he didn't know if she would like it. He was looking over the menu, when she opened the bathroom door. She had adorned a new bathrobe.

"Get rid of it and wear my shirt." He found the menu on the table.

"Why?"

Elena regretted asking the question as he turned towards her with a frown on his devilishly handsome face. "Never ask me questions. Just do what I say. Go wear my shirt. I like it better."

Why women couldn't understand a simple command? Why do they have to ask questions? He shook his head and sat down with the menu. It was a 10-page long menu and he was not in a mood to read it.

She emerged and he smiled. The swell of her breasts, the outline of her shoulders were clear in the shirt and her mounded peaks were poking through it.

"What about grilled cheese?"

Elena didn't understand what he was talking about. "Sorry?" She shrunk as his jaw ticked.

"I said, would you like grilled cheese for dinner?"

"I am not hungry." But her stomach grumbled at the thought of melted cheese and bread and he smiled.

"Grilled cheese for you, then."

Elena stood in the corner coz she didn't know what to do. Sitting on the bed will look like an invitation. He was moving around the place naked like he was a Greek God, cursed to not wear clothes, but he was proud as his body which was that of a God's, sculpted and what women would call perfect, but if a man can't respect her, his body is nothing to her. his voice was nice, if she would be honest. He wasn't reading from the menu but was ordering whatever there was in his mind, which was a lot.

He looked at his phone, tossed it back on the bed, poured himself another whiskey and sprawled on the sofa, his legs wide open and his member springing in attention as if he had not just emptied himself inside her. She tried looking at everything but him.

He saw how she was not looking at him. She was hugging herself tight like it was gonna do her any good. And why was she now? They had done it. It's no big deal. He called her and she looked at him shyly. Jesus, her cheeks were pink like tomato.