Chapter 4 I'm Not a Whore
The next morning, Shopia woke up in Alex’s bed. His arm was draped around her waist, his steady breath brushing softly against the back of her neck.
For a long moment, she just lay there, listening to the quiet rhythm of his breathing.
Even with the traces of age, the faint lines near his eyes, the silver at his temples, his charm hadn’t faded.
Shopia’s chest tightened. This was the first time Sophia slept with a man she didn't know.
She reached out, almost without thinking, letting her fingers hover near his cheek.
"Morning," said Alex in a hoarse voice, typical of someone just waking up.
"Morning," she whispered back.
“Why are you looking at me like that?" asked Alex, pulling Sophia into his arms.
“Alex, it’s my first time having sex with stranger," Shopia whispered.
"So… it’s not a big deal, Right? We both wanted to do it,” he said casually.
She looked away, trying to steady her breath.
“Maybe for you, but I don’t think I can forget it that easily,” she murmured.
Alex sighed softly, his expression shifting, the teasing gone, replaced by something gentler, almost regretful.
He cupped her face with one hand, his thumb brushing against her cheek.
“Hey… I didn’t mean to make it sound careless,” he said quietly.
Shopia’s eyes flickered toward him, uncertain.
“I just… I don’t usually do things like this. And I don’t even know what it means to you.”
Alex sighed before responding to Sophia's words.
“Shopia, how much do you need?”
“What?" Shopia’s eye widened.
"I’m not a whore Alex!”
Alex recoiled as if shocked, his face paling.
"Oh my God, Shopia! That's not what I meant at all! I... I just didn't know how to respond. I'm an idiot, I'm so sorry."
Shopia turned her face away, tears welling in her eyes.
"You think I'm that cheap? You think I did this for money?"
"No! Absolutely not!" Alex reached for her hand, but Shopia flinched away.
"I just... I panicked. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want you to regret it, and I... I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
An awkward silence hung between them. Shopia sobbed softly, her shoulders shaking. Alex felt like the biggest jerk in the world. He had ruined everything.
"I... I should just go," Shopia said weakly, trying to get out of bed.
"Don't!" Alex stopped her, holding her hand tightly.
"Please, don't go. Let me fix this. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Shopia looked at him with red, swollen eyes.
"How can you fix it? You've already ruined everything. This was supposed to be a nice experience, but you made it feel disgusting."
Alex looked down, feeling ashamed and guilty.
"I know. I know I messed up big time. But please, give me a chance to make it up to you. I'll do anything."
Shopia was silent for a moment, weighing his words. She could see the sincerity in Alex's eyes, although she could also see the confusion and uncertainty. She knew that Alex didn't mean to be malicious, but his words had hurt her more than she could have imagined.
"What do you want?" Just tell me, and I'll do it," Alex asked, his voice hoarse.
"I should go, i have a class today," said Shopia.
"A class? Now? Shopia, please don't run away from this. I know I messed up, but can't we at least talk about it?"
Shopia sighed, already reaching for her clothes.
"There's nothing to talk about, Alex. You've made your feelings perfectly clear. I need to go."
"But... but I didn't mean it like that!" Alex protested, scrambling out of bed.
"I panicked, okay? I said the first stupid thing that came into my head. I didn't mean to imply that you were... you know..."
Shopia paused in her dressing, her back to him.
"Then what did you mean, Alex? Because it sure sounded like you thought I was a prostitute."
Alex ran a hand through his hair, his frustration growing.
"I don't know! I wasn't thinking! I just... I wanted to make sure you were okay. That you weren't going to regret this in the morning. That I hadn't taken advantage of you."
Shopia turned around, her expression unreadable.
"And your solution was to offer me money?"
"No! God, no! It came out wrong. I was trying to be... I don't know, chivalrous? Protective? I'm terrible at this, okay? I'm terrible at feelings and relationships and all that stuff."
Shopia studied him for a long moment.
"You're right, you are terrible at it." She finished dressing, avoiding his gaze.
"Look, Alex, I appreciate the apology, sort of. But honestly, I just want to forget this whole thing ever happened.”
"Seriously?"
Shopia nodded, picking up her bag.
"Yes, seriously. It's important to me. And right now, it's a lot more appealing than staying here and dissecting your awkward attempts at being a decent human being."
Alex felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him.
"I... I can give you a ride," he offered lamely.
Shopia hesitated, then shook her head.
"No, thanks. I'll take a taxi. I need some time to myself." She walked to the door, then paused, turning back to face him.
"Just... think about what you said, Alex. And maybe, next time, try thinking before you speak."
And with that, she was gone, leaving Alex alone in the messy hotel room, feeling like the world's biggest idiot. He knew he had a lot to learn, and a lot to make up for. But as he sat there, staring at the empty doorway, he couldn't help but wonder if he had already blown his chances with Shopia for good.
Shopia stood at the curb, her coat pulled tightly around her shoulders as she raised a hand to hail a taxi.
When a yellow cab finally stopped, she climbed in, closing the door a little too fast, as if she could shut away everything that had just happened.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“West Kensington,” she replied softly.
As the taxi pulled into traffic, Shopia pressed her forehead against the cool glass. She exhaled, long and shaky.
She told herself she’d forget him.
That Alex Maxwell would be nothing more than a strange, fleeting mistake from one long night.
But the memory of his voice, the way he’d said her name, rough and uncertain, echoed through her like a song she couldn’t turn off.
She hated that part the most.
Back in the hotel room, Alex sat on the edge of the bed, still shirtless, still lost. The sheets were a mess and so were his thoughts.
He’d built his whole life around control, business deals, public image, measured words. But last night had torn through all of it.
He didn’t understand why this particular woman, young, stubborn, too honest for her own good had shaken something loose inside him.
Something he hadn’t felt in years.
The faint scent of her perfume still clung to the pillow.
He reached out, almost unconsciously, letting his fingers brush against it before pulling back.
“Idiot,” he muttered to himself.