Woke Up Naked Next to a Stranger - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
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                    My heart pounded as I scrambled to my feet. "Ethan, wait—this isn't what it looks like! Just a stupid misunderstanding—"
"A misunderstanding?" His voice cracked like a whip. "If I'd been five minutes later, would you two have been fucking already? Save your bullshit!"
Ethan Roscente was seeing red. After decking Ryan Lowell with one brutal punch, he lunged again, but I threw my whole weight between them.
Security swarmed in seconds, dragging Ethan out kicking and cursing. Soon we were screaming at each other on the sidewalk like some trashy reality show.
"Jesus Christ, Sophia, how low will you go? You get some sick kick out of this?"
The venom kept coming—every cruel word, every degrading assumption about my character. I bit my lip until it bled, but when he accused me of getting off on humiliating him, the dam broke.
Radio silence for three days.
Then, right on schedule, Ethan showed up with his signature remorse routine. This time: two dozen blood-red roses and that limited-edition Tom Ford lipstick I'd been eyeing.
On his knees like some repentant sinner, he poured out apologies—work stress, neglect, promises to do better. Even dangled a weekend in Phuket like some shiny peace offering.
For half a second, I almost bought it.
Fast-forward to Bangkok. Dinner at some Michelin-starred place, some overpriced cabaret show. Then moonlit cocktails on the beach, his arm around me like we were some Instagram-perfect couple.
The drinks kept coming. Too many, way too fast.
I woke to silk sheets clinging to my skin, head pounding like a bass drum. And there—leering at me from an armchair—some shirtless stranger with a grin that made my stomach lurch.
"Get the fuck out!" I screamed, scrambling for the sheets.
My phone buzzed. Ethan's name flashed. His laugh slithered through the receiver: "So? How's my little surprise treating you?"
My blood turned to ice. "What did you do?"
"Exactly what you wanted, sweetheart. You live for drama, right? Well... curtain's up."
Click.
The door burst open before I could breathe. Half a dozen men in plush robes swaggered in, smiles sharp as knives.
                
            
        "A misunderstanding?" His voice cracked like a whip. "If I'd been five minutes later, would you two have been fucking already? Save your bullshit!"
Ethan Roscente was seeing red. After decking Ryan Lowell with one brutal punch, he lunged again, but I threw my whole weight between them.
Security swarmed in seconds, dragging Ethan out kicking and cursing. Soon we were screaming at each other on the sidewalk like some trashy reality show.
"Jesus Christ, Sophia, how low will you go? You get some sick kick out of this?"
The venom kept coming—every cruel word, every degrading assumption about my character. I bit my lip until it bled, but when he accused me of getting off on humiliating him, the dam broke.
Radio silence for three days.
Then, right on schedule, Ethan showed up with his signature remorse routine. This time: two dozen blood-red roses and that limited-edition Tom Ford lipstick I'd been eyeing.
On his knees like some repentant sinner, he poured out apologies—work stress, neglect, promises to do better. Even dangled a weekend in Phuket like some shiny peace offering.
For half a second, I almost bought it.
Fast-forward to Bangkok. Dinner at some Michelin-starred place, some overpriced cabaret show. Then moonlit cocktails on the beach, his arm around me like we were some Instagram-perfect couple.
The drinks kept coming. Too many, way too fast.
I woke to silk sheets clinging to my skin, head pounding like a bass drum. And there—leering at me from an armchair—some shirtless stranger with a grin that made my stomach lurch.
"Get the fuck out!" I screamed, scrambling for the sheets.
My phone buzzed. Ethan's name flashed. His laugh slithered through the receiver: "So? How's my little surprise treating you?"
My blood turned to ice. "What did you do?"
"Exactly what you wanted, sweetheart. You live for drama, right? Well... curtain's up."
Click.
The door burst open before I could breathe. Half a dozen men in plush robes swaggered in, smiles sharp as knives.
End of Woke Up Naked Next to a Stranger Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to Woke Up Naked Next to a Stranger book page.