Dirty

"Didn't you say you wanted nothing more to do with this? That you were focusing on your marriage with Zayden?" Bram whispered into Marisha's ear, his lips grazing the soft skin of her shoulder.

Marisha closed her eyes, suppressing the wave of disgust before murmuring weakly, "I need your help. Investigate Zayden. I suspect he's cheating."

Bram lifted his head, staring at Marisha with a small, triumphant smirk. This young woman, who had once sworn to break free, was crawling back into his arms. Out of necessity. Out of fear.

Back when she was about to marry Zayden, Marisha knew her secrets could destroy her at any moment. Her past as the mistress of married men.

Bram was the one who erased her tracks, wiped the data, covered up the scandals that would've gotten her cast out before she even stepped foot into the Malik family.

In return, Bram demanded one thing: warmth. Satisfaction. To own her behind the curtains of their lavish home.

Marisha bowed her head, letting Bram's touch roam unchallenged. Every kiss tightened the web she had once willingly stepped into. But without Bram, she was sure her filth would've been exposed long ago.

Marisha hated herself. But she was more afraid of losing everything.

"I also need you to find me the best doctor. I want to get pregnant," Marisha whispered, her gaze icy as she met Bram's eyes.

Bram chuckled lowly, his rough hands already exploring her body. "That's easy, darling. But why bother? We could start right now. If my aim is true, you won't even need a doctor. What's the difference between carrying my child or Zayden's?"

Marisha shut her eyes, letting her body be used as he pleased. She hated herself, but she hated the thought of losing her status even more.

Bram took her without mercy. He was a womanizer through and through. To him, loyalty to one woman was a joke. As long as he fulfilled his duties as a husband and father, the rest was freedom.

"Marisha," Bram groaned between ragged breaths, "you never disappoint. No wonder married men would burn in hell just for a taste of you."

Marisha stifled a choked moan. This wasn't love. This wasn't lust. This was a filthy transaction, and she was willing to go through with it to survive.

After their heated encounter, Marisha lay in Bram's arms, her body barely covered by a thin sheet. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his steady, heavy heartbeat.

"Darling..." Marisha traced Bram's chest lightly, her voice barely audible. "I want to see the investigation results. You've been tailing Zayden, haven't you?"

Bram exhaled deeply before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Why the rush, hm? Haven't I always protected you?" he murmured, almost chiding.

Marisha lifted her face, her gaze soft yet demanding. "I need certainty, Bram. I have to know... who that woman is."

Bram smirked, his thumb stroking her cheek possessively. "Trust me, my little one. I've buried every scandal from your past. Covered every stain that could ruin you. And now you doubt me?"

Marisha fell silent. Part of her wanted to believe him, but her fear of losing everything was stronger.

"Tomorrow," Bram whispered, tightening his embrace. "Tomorrow, I'll give you everything. Full evidence. Tonight..." His smile turned teasing. "Let's enjoy each other like we used to."

Marisha closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the moment. Pretending to enjoy everything he did.

"Now, your turn on top," Bram urged, helping Marisha move—his daughter-in-law, his secret lover.

Marisha obeyed, doing whatever he wanted. Because to keep her status, she knew she had to keep pretending. She had to sacrifice.

*****

Irish lounged on her sofa, scrolling through the videos and files her men had just sent her. Her slender fingers toyed with her phone, her expression dripping with satisfaction.

"So... Bram and Marisha?" she mused, grinning. "Father-in-law and daughter-in-law, huh? How revolting."

She gripped her phone tighter, eyes glinting sharply.

"No wonder Zayden knows nothing about your dirty past, Marisha," she hissed. "Because your filthy secrets are guarded by his own father."

Irish swept her hair back arrogantly, opening her camera app and flashing a challenging smirk.

In a sweet yet venomous voice, she recorded her message:

"Hello, Uncle Bram," she cooed, batting her lashes. "How was your little hotel rendezvous with your daughter-in-law? Fun?"

She let out a soft laugh before continuing, "I've attached a little video for you. Imagine if your wife and son saw it?"

Leaning closer to the camera, her voice turned icy.

"Don't worry, Uncle. I'm a good girl. I'll keep quiet..." Irish smiled thinly. "As long as you stay out of Marisha and Zayden's business. Stop your plans to tail Zayden and dig into my relationship with him! Or else... yours will be exposed too."

She winked before ending the recording.

"Warm regards from your future daughter-in-law," she whispered sharply. With a single tap, she sent the video to Bram's number, one she'd obtained through her men's investigation.

"You're truly filthy, Marisha," Irish muttered, clutching her phone. "Let's see if that old pervert can protect you now. He'll choose to save himself first!"

"I'm even more excited to steal Zayden now. To destroy you until nothing's left." Her lips curled into a sly smile.

Irish locked away her burner phone in a drawer. Now, it was time to play the sweet role in front of Zayden.

She picked up her personal phone, scrolling through their last intense exchange. If his wife is busy with his own father, Zayden must be lonely.

Irish let the thin strap of her nightgown slip, exposing her smooth shoulder. She took a photo. Just provocative enough to spark imagination, and sent it to Zayden.

"Uncle Zayden, when are you coming over?" she typed coyly, attaching the photo.

Minutes later, a reply came.

"Working late tonight, really swamped. Maybe tomorrow." Zayden included a photo of the piled-up documents on his desk.

Irish bit her lower lip, feigning disappointment. But she wasn't giving up.

"Should I come to you? Give you a massage? Bring coffee? I promised I'd be your second home, Uncle."

Zayden, buried under work, read her message with a faint smile. Irish was a little temptress, hard to ignore.

Soon, his phone buzzed again.

"I sent coffee and homemade dinner via delivery. You have to eat it! Made with love!" Irish wrote playfully.

Zayden stared at his screen, a small smile forming. Irish wasn't just seductive. She was attentive. Sweet. And without realizing it, she was filling the hollow gaps in his life that had felt empty for so long.