Soon as whole month had passed ,since the bathing incident . Ramona had tried her best to persuade Sly into marriage, but he insisted they study each other for at least three months before anything related to marriage could be considered.
Ramona got angry ,an argument occurred. Sly tried not to make the situation worst and decided to hung up the call. Ramona felt defeated and a bit broken. "Does Sly even love me, or has he found out about the secret ? No, am not sure he has. Oh Sly" she said as she headed into her room, tears destroying her make-up.
That night Sly couldn't sleep. Alot was going on in his mind. "Oh no Sly ,you shouldn't have hunged up on her", he said as he punched his pillow. He picked up his phone and dailed her number. He got no answer. He stopped ,thinking of what she could be doing at the moment.He pictured her in tears because of him . He tried very hard to sleep.He shut his eyes,tried hard to sleep off ,but all he saw was a naked Ramona laid on his side.His body instantly felt so hot.That pain that came with pleasure was there again.His erection made him groan in pain. He went into the shower for a cold bath, one that always calmed him down.
Ramona, was in a dilemma she was thinking of going out with another guy. She had never been defeated in an argument, not even with a doctor and now Sly had broken her record.
She headed to the club. The club was alive with sound, lights slicing through the haze like knives. Ramona leaned against the bar, swirling the amber liquid in her glass, letting the music thrum through her in time with her pulse. Every neon flicker mirrored the sparks of rebellion that had been building inside her since the fight with Sly.
She didn't want to think. Not about him. Not about promises peices or words that could never be taken back. The club offered an escape, a place where consequences could wait until morning.
And then she saw him. Tall, with a crooked smile and eyes that seemed to read right through the wall she'd built around herself. Ramona felt a shiver she couldn't name, a mixture of danger and excitement curling through her stomach.
The music drew her closer, their bodies moving in rhythm as if the world outside had ceased to exist. His hand brushed hers, teasing, daring, and she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in, letting the heat of the dance erase the weight of her day.
Somewhere between the beat and the flicker of lights, the club became a cocoon, a place where nothing mattered except the thrill of the moment. Ramona laughed softly, tasting the forbidden sweetness of desire, knowing she was crossing a line—but unwilling to stop.
By the time the song ended, she was dizzy, flushed, and alive in a way she hadn't felt in months. The night was hers for the taking, and for now, the world outside—including Sly—was someone else's problem.
The stranger's hand found hers again, fingers curling like they belonged. "My place?" he murmured, and without hesitation, Ramona nodded.
The drive to her mansion was silent, the hum of the engine and her own racing heartbeat filling the space between them. Once inside, she didn't bother with small talk. She led him through the grand foyer, past the chandeliers and marble floors, until they reached her private suite.
The room was suffused with soft lamplight, casting warm shadows that danced across the walls. Ramona let the thrill of power and temptation take over. One touch led to another; one kiss became a hunger neither could resist. Clothes slipped away, laughter and whispers echoing off the polished floors. Every line she had drawn in her life dissolved in the heat of the moment.
Meanwhile, miles away, Sly sat alone in his apartment, the quiet pressing down on him. He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his chest. He replayed their argument over and over, trying to make sense of it, trying to find the words that could repair what had been broken. His phone sat untouched beside him, messages unsent, apologies rehearsed too late.
Back at the mansion, Ramona's indulgence deepened. The thrill of being desired, of being in control, of breaking free from the tension of her own life, coursed through her. She laughed softly, a little recklessly, as the man pressed closer. They lost themselves completely in the moment, the world outside—Sly, loyalty, consequence—obliterated by desire.
And yet, somewhere far away, Sly's gut twisted. He couldn't know yet. He wouldn't. But the uneasy foreboding settled like a storm cloud over him, whispering that everything was about to change—and that nothing would ever be the same.
The mansion was quiet now, save for the low hum of music and the soft rustle of sheets. Ramona lay tangled in the arms of the stranger, flushed and breathless, savoring the reckless freedom of the night. Every worry, every argument with Sly, seemed impossibly distant.
But far away, Sly's unease had grown into something he could no longer ignore. His thoughts churned, a storm of anger, confusion, and desperation. He needed answers, closure—he had to see her, hear her, confront her.
The drive to her mansion was tense, every red light, every turn magnifying the pit in his stomach. When he reached the grand gates, something inside him tightened. This wasn't just a visit; it was a reckoning.
Sly stepped into the foyer, calling out her name softly at first, then louder, "Ramona?" His voice echoed off the marble floors, carrying a weight of hurt he couldn't disguise.
Then he saw them.
Through the slightly ajar bedroom door, Sly's eyes fell on the scene he had feared: Ramona, in bed with another man, laughing softly, tangled in the sheets, utterly oblivious to the storm outside.
"Ramona!" His voice shattered the room, raw with disbelief and betrayal. The stranger froze, wide-eyed. Ramona's eyes snapped open, confusion flashing for a brief second—then recognition.
But Sly didn't wait for explanations, didn't linger for answers he didn't want to hear. The hurt was too sharp, too immediate. He turned, his fists clenching, his heart breaking, and left the mansion the way he came, each step heavier than the last.
Behind him, Ramona lay in stunned silence, the room suddenly too quiet, the thrill of the night evaporating like smoke. The consequences she had ignored now pressed down, impossible to escape.