The Langford mansion buzzed with anticipation as Mira walked through the grand foyer, her hand tucked into Jerry's. The difference was palpable—Jerry, in her sharp black blazer over a tight white dress shirt, looked every bit the dominant, commanding force she was known to be. Mira, on the other hand, was dressed in a breathtaking, silk backless gown—blood red, hugging every curve, dangerous and stunning. Her cheeks held a soft blush that clashed beautifully with the boldness of her dress.
They stepped into the drawing room where Mira's grandfather sat sipping tea, his gaze instantly flickering to the couple's clasped hands. He raised a brow and chuckled, setting down his cup with exaggerated grace.
"So, Jerry Kingston," he said, eyes twinkling with mischief, "our breakroom is now officially your breakfast lounge?"
Jerry choked on air.
Mira gasped. "Grandpa!"
But the old man was on a roll, stroking his chin like a wise philosopher. "And you, my dear granddaughter… healthy lungs, I must say. Very… expressive."
"Grandpa!" Mira squealed, covering her face.
Jerry looked down at the floor, red creeping up her neck. "I… we… I mean—"
Her flustered ramble only made Mira's grandfather laugh harder. "Relax, girl. I was your age once too.
Just… remember, some rooms have cameras, and others… have ears."
Mira buried her face in Jerry's chest. "Kill me now."
Jerry smirked, her fingers gently tracing Mira's exposed back. "You're the one who moaned my name like I was dessert."
Grandpa coughed loudly.
Mira jabbed Jerry's side.
They were led to a private room where the engagement dress fitting would take place. The room was filled with silky fabrics, mirrors, and the faint scent of roses.
Mira stepped behind a curtain and emerged in a breathtaking lehenga-style gown in ivory and gold, fitted at the waist, the blouse a perfect mix of elegance and seduction with its off-shoulder design. Jerry, who had been sipping water, literally dropped the glass.
"Holy—Mira…" she muttered, eyes scanning every inch. "You're trying to kill me."
Mira twirled, smirking. "You like?"
Jerry stood and walked toward her, fingers brushing Mira's exposed waist. "You look like a queen who's about to ruin me."
Their eyes locked—tension building. The tailor awkwardly cleared her throat and scurried out, giving them space. Mira stepped closer, and Jerry pulled her behind one of the large curtains.
Jerry pressed Mira to the wall gently. "I can't focus when you look like that."
"And whose fault is that?" Mira whispered, placing her hands on Jerry's shoulders. "You're the one who made me feel like silk isn't the only thing that can wrap around power."
Jerry kissed her jaw, biting gently. "Behave."
Mira leaned in and whispered hotly, "Make me."
Their lips crashed—hot, possessive, dizzying. But before it could deepen, the sound of heels echoed in the hallway. They pulled apart, adjusting clothes, Mira's giggle breaking the silence.
"You're blushing," she teased.
"You started it," Jerry replied, brushing her fingers through her hair.
As they stepped out, Mira's childhood best friend and manager walked in, blinking at the sight of Jerry still flushed. "Umm… guys?"
Mira laughed nervously.
But the teasing wasn't over. The manager leaned closer to Mira. "You know, tomboys like her… they don't usually let anyone go down there unless they see them as—well, basically their wife."
Mira blinked.
The manager continued with a grin. "So, if you ate her and she let you... congrats. You're her husband now."
Mira's jaw dropped. "WHAT?!"
Jerry, standing a few feet away, raised a brow. "Something wrong, babe?"
Mira turned pink, grinning like a devil. "Nothing, husband."
Jerry choked. "Excuse me—what?"
The rest of the day passed with jealous glances—Mira catching girls checking Jerry out and instantly claiming her with back-hugs, kisses, and whispered declarations. And every time she said "my husband" under her breath, Jerry's ears turned redder than ever.
That night, as the sun dipped behind the mansion and lights bathed the Langford estate in golden glow, Mira stood behind Jerry, wrapping her arms around her waist.
"I claimed you in silk," she whispered against her ear, "and in scandal."
Jerry turned around slowly, her smirk returning, hands pulling Mira closer by the waist. "Then be ready, babe… because tonight, I'm claiming you in darkness and moonlight."
And with that, the night was only beginning.
The kiss ended with Mira breathless, her lipstick smudged and her heart racing like a drumbeat. Jerry smirked, brushing her thumb across Mira's lips with pride before pulling away to let her fiancée breathe. Just then, Mira's manager stepped in, holding out her phone with a raised brow.
"It's your unlucky friend calling," she said with an exaggerated sigh.
Mira frowned. "Unlucky?"
Her manager smirked. "Every time she calls, something bad happens to you. Just do me a favor and lie to her this time. If you say you're happy, she might actually curse your happiness next."
Mira laughed and shook her head. "She's not that bad." "You say that now."
Rolling her eyes, Mira took the call and stepped out onto the private balcony to talk in peace. Meanwhile, Jerry stayed behind, undoing the top buttons of her shirt, a soft smile still playing on her lips. She looked around, realizing Mira wasn't there. The room suddenly felt colder. Emptier. She missed her already.
Still barefoot, Jerry wandered through the hallway to find Mira, wanting to steal just one more kiss. As she turned a corner, she stopped—frozen by the sound of Mira's voice coming from the garden path just beyond the open window.
"No, actually I'm telling you the truth," Mira said into the phone, sighing. "I haven't told anyone yet… I'm doing all of this forcefully… for my grandpa." Jerry blinked. Her feet rooted to the floor.
"I mean… you think she's a tomboy, how can I even be happy with someone like that?" Mira continued. "She even… forced me in bed once. I had no choice. But yeah… okay. You take care too."
Jerry stepped back like she'd been slapped. The air around her seemed to vanish. She turned quickly, not wanting to hear more. Not daring to.
But standing silently behind her… was Mira's manager. And her expression was thunder.
"It's not what it sounds like," she whispered.
Jerry didn't respond. Her eyes were vacant. Her jaw clenched. And without a word, she turned and walked away, each step heavy, haunted, slow.
The manager's heart dropped. She looked back at Mira still on the call, unaware of the storm she'd just created.
Jerry entered the guest room again, this time without a sound, and changed clothes slowly, mechanically. trying to suppress the boiling ache in her chest. The image of Mira's smile just moments ago… shattered.
When Mira hung up and turned around, she found the manager staring at her with wide, furious eyes.
"What?" Mira asked, confused.
The manager threw her arms up. "What the actual fuck did you just say on the phone!?"
"What? I was just—"
"She heard you, Mira! Jerry heard everything!"
Mira's heart plummeted.
"No," she whispered, racing back toward the room.
But it was too late. Jerry was gone.
Vanished.
Mira called her name, messaged her phone, again and again. No reply.
Her hands shook.
The manager touched her shoulder. "She looked… destroyed, Mira. Not angry. Just… broken."
Mira's eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't mean it," she whispered, staring at her phone. "God, I didn't mean it like that..."
But Jerry was gone. And this time, it wasn't just a misunderstanding.
It felt like the end.