/ˈkwɒndəri/

"to be not certain what decision to take about something."

_______________________

Prelude

"No contact in L.A.," I moaned as he peppered kisses against my neck, skimming through my thighs, caressing it. His other hand went behind my back, fumbling with the hook of my bra.

"Deal." He mumbled against the crook of my neck, sucking and then biting.

"We don't talk about this to anyone." He stopped his movements for a brief second, before resuming and muttering an "Alright."

"I-" I continued, racking my brain for more ideas. "Don't want you to remember this...if you ever see me again."

His hands paused their movements and he leaned on them, staring directly into my eyes. I couldn't read the emotion in his eyes, but a fiery blaze ignited within them.

"Absolutely not,"

I frowned and pouted, he groaned.

"I am not going to forget the way my name leaves your lips when I feel you tightening around my d*ck, Kia. Nor will I ever forget the shape of your body, the way your lips part when you are experiencing earth-shattering orgasms or the taste of your sweet lips."

I groaned at his words, despite their crudeness, they had an adverse effect on my body. Kael seemed to notice it, because one-second he was staring at me intensely trying to get his point across and the very next his shirt was off and his hands pushed the dress off me in one swift motion.

Fuck this, if I was going to sin, might as well do it properly.

_______________________

The scorching L.A. heat burned my skin as soon as I stepped out of LAX. I spotted the yellow Mini Cooper from a distance and trudged towards it with my suitcases in tow. My vacation had been great, with all the things that I was craving for a while now; spas, seclusion & sex. It was a miracle that all of it came for free too, bless my Cosmopolitan issue of April 2019 and their paid trip contest. Stuffing my bags inside the bonnet, I walked around to seat myself in the passenger seat.

"Enjoy your vacation, Dr. Phil?"

I rolled my eyes at the nickname my abominable best friend of five years gave me and tried hard not to smile at her suggestiveness.

"You know it," I said with a shrug while putting on my seatbelt.

"So," Lana began while keeping her eyes straight on the road. "How was it? Did you unwind yourself from Hollywood or crashed right into it?"

I narrowed my eyes at her cryptic question, normally she would have grilled me about the hotel, boys and the places but this was different. She was actually asking about my feelings first and that had me concerned. Either she knew about my sex-capade or she was just genuinely concerned about my opinion. My bet was on the former.

"Why do you ask that?" I asked her, my gaze still lingering on her face.

"Just," she shrugged and tried to act cool but I could look right past it. "You seemed stress when you left and now your tan speaks a lot but, I just wanna know if you had a fun time."

"I did."

"Good. I'm glad you got to...you know, unwind and..." she trailed off, still not facing me even once.

"Spill it," I said, the vagueness being unbearable. "What is it?"

"What?" Lana looked genuinely taken aback by my question and I couldn't have been more piqued at that moment.

"You know something, spill it now, Price."

"Geez, what got your panties in a twist? And here I thought you'd relax after getting some!"

At that I looked at her with a raised eyebrow and she winced at her slip up.

"You know, don't you?"I questioned her, unaware of how on earth did she manage to find out about my sex life from thousands of miles away.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

I rolled my eyes at her. "Fine, don't tell. I won't tell you about Liam Locke's fetishes then."

At the mention of Hollywood's second-coming of Leonardo DiCaprio, her attention sparked up. "Fine, I know. I'm also mad at you not telling me."

"How did you know? And wait a minute...how do you even know who?" I was curious, but I was also absolutely petrified and all the worse-case possibilities started brewing in my mind.

Lana sighed, her expression given nothing away. She handed me a piece of PEOPLE's latest issue, pre-opened to page 11 with a picture of Zachery Henderson holding onto a woman's waist. You couldn't see the face of the woman from the angle of the photo taken, bless my lovely humongous hat for that. To an outsider, the girl is a mystery in her red sundress and long brown tresses, but one look at Lana and she figured out the mystery woman.

Well, that is her dress. Never underestimate the power of a girl identifying her clothes.

"You wanna tell me about the sex-capade now?"

I look at her and grumble. "I really thought I'd forget about it, you know."

"Honey, you can't just forget about a walking sex god like Zachery Henderson. Besides...being featured in People doesn't exactly scream low-key."

"My face isn't visible." I deadpan.

"No, but any sane person who knows you, can see that it's you."

"On a scale of one to Kim Kardashian's porn video blow out, how bad does this look right now?"

"I'd say about as bad as Brad Pitt admitting to being an escort."

I groaned, at least it died down easier than the other scandals in Hollywood.

"Well, at least the sex was great, right?" Lana started as she parked the car off-street near my apartment.

I groaned into my hands. "Lana."

"What? If you're going down, might as well get a few mind-blowing orgasms on the way."

I sighed, getting out of the car and retrieving my bags from the backside of the car. Lana joined to help me and together, we walked towards my building.

Just as I was retrieving my apartment key from my purse, my cell phone decided to blast and I quickly swiped it right to not shock the living daylights out of my neighbours. Lana stood patiently as I handed her my purse, signalling her to open the door.

"Hello," I answered while placing the phone between my shoulder and my ear, so that I could carry my bag inside the apartment.

"Hi, is this Ms. Thomas?"

I scrunched my face at the high-pithed overly sweet voice. "Speaking."

"Ms. Thomas I'm calling on behalf of Mr. Zachery Henderson, he'd like to schedule an appointment with you. Does 4 p.m. Monday, sound good?

"No. And while you're at it, please ask Mr. Henderson that he's a lawyer and keeping his end of the bargain shouldn't be that hard. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a life to get back to."

Lana quirked her eyebrow and shot me a questioning look.

"So now Mr. Hotshot wants to meet you, too?" she chips as she places herself my couch while I go in to check in my supplies in the kitchen.

Thank god for Ramen noodles.

"You know he isn't going to stop contacting you, right?" Lana called out from the couch.

I walked in to the living room with my coconut water in hand and plopped myself next to her.

"I know, but that's the last thing that I'm concerned about ."

"And what's the first?" Lana questions while grabbing the remote and switching on the box.

"My mother and a very nosy People's magazine journalist."

Anyone like reading People's?