The womanâs name was Anika Cohen.
She was a fresh face in Duefronâs TV scene.
Beautyâs her game, but in this industry, looks alone wouldnât cut it.
One had to have the right connections.
And in Anikaâs mind, Leonel could be her golden ticket.
Late into the night, a married man, half sloshed, dozed off solo in the club-a clear sign of marital woes.
Anika gently introduced herself, âHey, Iâm from Chanel B.
We crossed paths during that interview last time, remember? Had lunch together?â
Even if he wasnât blitzed, Leonel couldnât recall.
Slumping back on the sofa, he slurred, âHey, sort me a ride home, will you?â
Knowing this was her shot, Anika assisted him downstairs and into her car, his eyes shut tight in a drunken daze.
She stole a glance at him.
In her mind, even if she didnât aim to ride his coattails to fame, she wouldnât mind a fling.
He was young, hot, and loaded-a catch for many .
Anika caught his mumbled address, likely some swanky villa area.
She had other plans than driving him home.
Straight to her cozy apartment they went.
Compact but stylish.
As Leonel settled on her couch, something felt off.
His eyes cracked open.
Perched atop him was a svelte figure.
With waist-length black locks and a petite face, Anikaâs white shirt accentuated her curves.
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Whispering in his ear, she purred, âLeonel.
â
In a hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, his eyes glazed over.
How long had it been since Alexis whispered his name like that?
Anikaâs crimson lips, scorching against his ear, ignited a primal urge.
Leonelâs body had been aching for Alexis for ages.
Mistaking Anika for Alexis and with her making the first move, he couldnât resist.
So, he pulled her close, giving in to their mutual craving, Locking lips in a frenzy.
Anika hadnât anticipated Leonelâs passion.
A soft groan escaped her lips.
They fervently explored each otherâs bodies, lost in desire, as if melding into one was just a heartbeat away.
In the heat of the moment, Anika whispered, âMr.
Douglas, Iâve always admired you.
â