Page 6 of Sexted By a Stranger

Sheila

Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains onto the bed as consciousness slowly returned. The first thing I sensed was that reassuring warmth wrapped around me, and the steady, powerful heartbeat.

I blearily opened my eyes to find Luca's broad chest filling my vision. His healthy, tanned skin, solid pecs—everything about him radiated masculine power. His scent dominated every breath I took.

I jolted fully awake as last night's memories came flooding back.

Those scorching kisses, his calloused fingers igniting fires across my skin, and that mind-blowing sex.

My cheeks instantly burned. My body instinctively tried to spring away from his embrace, but the arm wrapped around my waist held firm.

"Up already?" His deep voice rumbled from above.

I looked up. He seemed to have been awake for a while. Sunlight played across his chiseled profile, outlining near-perfect contours.

He held one of my design sketches from the nightstand, studying it with apparent fascination.

"You're looking at that first thing in the morning?" I asked, confused.

He didn't answer, just held the thin paper, index finger landing on the Starlight sketch's cutting line notation. "Asscher cut's a bold move." Then tapped a single graphite stroke. "Here—peel back 0.2mm. Let the angles bite."

"Sheila, you have talent. Very special talent." His voice was low, carrying genuine recognition.

"Really?" My voice shot up as I unconsciously leaned forward. "See, here I originally envisioned using rose gold as the base, but—"

Cold air suddenly wrapped around my naked body. My excited words cut off abruptly. Last night's passion had left scattered red marks that were now exposed in the morning light. I gasped, frantically grabbing for the sheets to cover myself.

Too late.

The appreciation in Luca's eyes darkened into burning heat. A muffled growl rolled from his throat as his arm suddenly tightened—the world spun, and I found myself pinned between the soft mattress and his scorching, rock-hard chest.

His burning kiss fell like a sudden storm. My lips were conquered, tongue dominating, as last night's unfinished desires ignited the quiet morning air.

His one hand easily captured my wrists and pressed them above my head. His knee nudged my legs apart while his other hand slid along the sensitive curve of my waist. His lips traveled down from my shoulder, capturing my nipple in a gentle bite.

Under his control, I quickly melted, moaning. Those suggestive red marks now became his navigation as his kisses reignited flames everywhere. Wetness gathered between my legs as I felt his desire building.

"Luca, stop..." I barely found a moment to breathe, but my voice came out impossibly soft, more like a coy invitation.

"Hmm?" His face was buried in my chest, but he lifted his head at my protest, brown eyes completely filled with lust.

I couldn't help going weak all over. Damn his sex appeal.

I turned my face away, but he caught my chin and turned me back. Our eyes met, the desire in his burning even hotter.

"Have you-have you had breakfast?" I struggled to end this near-combustible situation.

"You hungry?"

"Yeah!"

Luca caressed my collarbone. Just when I thought I'd receive a different kind of "breakfast," he finally released his hold on me, smoothly rolling out of bed to dress.

As his clothes fell into place, covering the obvious scratch marks on his back, he instantly returned to that refined appearance, as if the man who'd just been conquering me in bed was an illusion.

I sat up clutching the sheets, heart still racing. He calmly fastened his cufflinks, his gaze accidentally sweeping over Vivian's somewhat yellowed poster on the opposite wall.

"You like her?" he asked casually, picking up his suit jacket from the chair back.

"Yes. Big fan." I was still calming the heat in my body, but my voice was clearer than before. "I've been a fan since school." As I spoke, I threw off the covers to get out of bed.

"Good taste," He commented lightly, gaze lingering on the poster with a thoughtful expression.

Fighting the soreness between my legs, I bent to gather the clothes scattered on the floor. My fingers had just touched the soft fabric when the light dimmed.

Luca's tall figure loomed over me. He leaned down, handing me some clean clothes.

Touched, I accepted them and pulled on the underwear. I was about to fasten it when I felt Luca's warm palm on my back—he was actually helping me dress.

My whole body burned again, but I allowed his movements. His fingertips were extremely light and slow, as if touching fragile porcelain. He even carefully straightened a slipped strap.

"There," He murmured by my ear, then stepped back to admire his handiwork.

I turned around to find the fire in his eyes hadn't completely died.

"There's nothing left in the fridge, so we'll have to eat out," I tried to change the subject.

Luca chuckled low, straightening up and gesturing toward the door. "Then we'd better hurry."

The morning bustle hit us full force. The corner deli, "Papa Joey's," that had been there for decades, was at its busiest. The mixed aroma of fried eggs, bacon, and coffee filled the air.

Blue-collar workers in coveralls and bleary-eyed students packed the booths, talking loudly, cutlery clanging against plates with sharp sounds.

Luca and I entered one after the other, and the noisy little place seemed to hit mute. All eyes swiveled to focus on us, especially on Luca.

In his perfectly tailored suit with that cold, handsome face, he was completely out of place among the cheap plastic chairs and grease-stained walls.

I suddenly felt embarrassed, as if I'd dragged him into mud that didn't belong to him. But he seemed oblivious, walking directly to a quiet booth in the back, naturally pulling out a chair to sit.

A waitress in a grease-spotted apron clutched a menu and shuffled over nervously, not daring to lift her eyes. "S-sir, Sheila, what can I get you?"

Luca took the menu and immediately handed it to me. "You order." I quickly ordered two specials. The waitress scribbled it down and practically ran away.

Suppressed whispers buzzed through the small diner again. Curious, probing glances still swept over us before quickly retreating.

When the coffee arrived, Luca immediately picked up the sugar dispenser crusted with years of dried sugar and the creamer, adding a spoonful of sugar to my cup and a splash of cream. His movements were fluid, as if he'd practiced a thousand times. He gently pushed the cup in front of me.

"Try it."

I stared at him. In this completely wrong environment, he was doing something so natural. Strange emotions sprouted in my heart.

"What?" Luca looked up at me. "Not to your taste?"

"No!" I hurriedly lowered my head and took a sip of coffee.

The food arrived quickly. Golden fried eggs nestled beside crispy bacon, accompanied by toast with slightly charred edges, all piled on thick white plates with tacky floral patterns.

Luca's movements remained elegant as he methodically cut into his eggs and ate, his manner relaxed as if savoring the finest cuisine.

"Not bad," he commented.

Back at the apartment, Luca's car was still parked outside.

The sunlight was stronger now, illuminating the mottled walls.

"Thank you for bringing me home."

"Sheila." He leaned against the car, his profile hard-edged.

"I'll help with Leon's surgery costs." His voice wasn't loud but crystal clear. "On the condition that you leave Celestial. Forever."

The words pierced me like an ice pick, extinguishing the warmth and intimacy in my heart. Though leaving had been my plan, the coldness wrapped in his words hit like a boulder crashing into my chest. The sinking feeling blocked my breathing; even my ribs ached.

Were all those compliments and intimacy just a transaction?

He'd confirmed the quality of the goods, was satisfied, and now wanted to pay?

Planning to keep me somewhere? In some gorgeous golden cage?

The shame and anger of being toyed with tore through my chest like lava, incinerating what remained of my rationality.

A mocking laugh escaped my lips uncontrollably. I turned away, refusing to look at him, fingers clutching my clothes tightly.

"Mr. Bellomo," my voice trembled with barely suppressed rage, "it seems you were very satisfied with last night's service. Fifty thousand dollars to buy me for one night—how generous of you!"

The moment the words left my mouth, I turned to leave. I had to get away from here immediately. Away from this man who saw me as a plaything.

But just then, a burning, powerful hand suddenly seized my wrist.

"Let go." I struggled desperately, my other hand beating against his arm, tears welling in my eyes.

"Look at me, Sheila." Instead of releasing me, he leaned closer, his other hand forcefully lifting my chin.

In those deep eyes, storms raged like I'd never seen.

"Who told you that was payment for last night?" His voice practically squeezed through clenched teeth.

"Then what do you mean? Keep me like a birdy? Lock me in your cage?" Tears finally spilled over. "Mr. Bellomo, I don't sell myself."

"Would you just calm down?" Luca growled, fingers on my chin tightening slightly. Deep helplessness flashed through his eyes.

"Listen," he took a deep breath, "I own a jewelry company, éclat Lumière. You should know it."

éclat Lumière? I instantly stopped struggling, disbelief written across my face—the company I'd dreamed of joining was his?

Luca released my chin but still gripped my wrist tightly, as if afraid I'd disappear the next second. From his inner suit pocket, he pulled out a thin card.

Pure black, edges inlaid with ultra-fine platinum lines, centered with a dark gold iris surrounded by thorns. In the morning light, it emanated an aura of noble luxury.

"I need a personal assistant." Luca held the black card before my eyes.

"My assistant needs to understand jewelry," he paused, voice low and clear, each word hammering into my chaotic heart.

"You're qualified. This isn't charity, Sheila.

This is your opportunity. This job will keep you away from trash like Connor.

The salary is enough to handle your brother's ongoing treatment.

You can continue studying jewelry design—I'll have the company's designers mentor you. The card contains your advance bonus."

The massive shock left my mind blank. I stared dumbly at that black card so close, symbolizing enormous wealth and a brand new future, then looked up at Luca.

He was waiting for my decision.

Refuse? Leon's pale face, Mom's desperate eyes flashed before me like a slideshow... Reality wouldn't give me the luxury of pride.

Accept? I could not only achieve my dreams but also solve all my life problems. Plus, no more dealing with the club.

"Why-why me?"

"Because," his gaze swept over my reddened eyes, his expression darkening, "your talent shouldn't be left unseen."

One sentence shattered all my defenses. My heart ached with warmth flooding through.

I took a deep breath, meeting Luca's gaze, trying to make my voice sound calm and steady. "Okay. I'll take the job." I took that black card.

"But the money is a loan," I added. "Deduct it from my salary."

Luca looked at me, eyes full of appreciation, and nodded. "Alright."

"I'll walk you up," his voice returned to its usual calm. "And you have five days off to handle your brother's situation."

"Thank you, Luca." I meant it sincerely, grateful to this man who'd saved me in every sense.

After seeing Luca off, I sat by the window, still clutching that card tightly. The edges dug into my palm with clear pain, reminding me this wasn't a dream.

Pushing open the ward door, Mom sat on a small stool beside Leon's bed, holding his skinny hand, eyes red and swollen. Leon's eyes were closed, face even paler than yesterday, breathing so weak it was barely detectable.

Hearing the door, Mom immediately looked up. Seeing me, she forced a bitter smile. "Sheila, you're here."

"Mom." I quickly walked over, supporting her thin, trembling shoulders. "How's Leon?"

Mom shook her head, tears welling up again.

"The doctor said... tomorrow's the last day.

But how are we supposed to come up with that kind of money?

" She couldn't continue, just gripped my hand desperately, nails nearly digging into my flesh, as if clutching the only lifeline.

"Sheila, what-what do we do? It's my fault. .."

Looking at Mom's desperate, ashen face, I squeezed her hand back tightly. Opening my other palm, the black card lay quietly there. "Don't worry about the money. I've got it covered."

But Mom's eyes went wide, staring at the card in disbelief before snapping to look at me, her eyes instantly filled with horror and despair. "Sheila?" Her voice carried tears. "Tell me you didn't—"

"What? No! God, no, Mom."

I gripped her hand, speaking faster. "I got a new job. At that fancy jewelry place downtown. The boss is... he's really understanding about our situation. Gave me an advance on my bonus. They'll deduct it from my paychecks later. It's not charity."

"A jewelry place?" Mom froze, the horror in her eyes slowly fading, replaced by massive disbelief. "They just... hand out advances like that?"

"Yeah." I pressed the black card into her hands. "Boss said Leon's surgery comes first. It's real, Mom. We can save him." My voice trembled with excitement.

Mom looked down at the card in her hands—one she'd never seen before, emanating expensive elegance. Her fingertips carefully traced the iris, the paleness and despair on her face melting away like snow meeting sunshine.

"You're sure about this, sweetheart? Really sure?" Her voice shook, tears flooding out again. "We need to thank them properly. Send flowers, write letters... who was it again?"

"éclat Lumière, you know the one." I answered vaguely, avoiding Mom's tearfully grateful gaze. Instinct told me Mom shouldn't know more.

"éclat Lumière," Mom murmured, as if reciting a savior's name, hands constantly making the sign of the cross. "Thank God. Oh thank God, our Leon's gonna be okay."

Seeing the light rekindled on Mom's face, whatever else, at least this crisis was crossed.

Not until the nurse came to remind us visiting hours were over did I stand to leave. Walking out of the hospital building, I took out my phone and dialed Madeline's number.

"Madeline, it's me, Sheila."