Behind Closed Doors of Desire

Chapter 1

If there were an award for the "Best Sugar Daddy," William Ashford would undoubtedly take first place.
After being betrayed by a mistress he supported for a year, William became the laughingstock of his social circle.
Seizing the opportunity, Thomas Langley casually suggested, "How about a marriage of convenience? One that doesn’t require an extension and includes a severance package."
As rain poured down, William Ashford descended the narrow, dark stairwell with heavy footsteps. The night concealed the storm brewing on his face.
His breaths were slightly labored, chest rising and falling unevenly, hinting at the anger he struggled to contain.
If not for his aversion to dirtying his hands, he would have relished smashing the heads of those two backstabbers.
He had lost track of his expensive dress shirt somewhere on the way down; now a long tear marred the shoulder. He loosened his tie and dove into the Bentley parked outside with its hazard lights flashing.
Inside the luxury car sat a young man, shrouded in the dim light, emanating the confidence of a proud lion, his gaze fixed on the newly entered William Ashford, undeterred by the latter's dark mood.
"William."
A figure rushed down the hall.
Emily Hawthorne’s beautiful face wore an expression of panic and helplessness, her innocence shattered. Yet the unbuttoned collar and glaring kiss marks on her neck gave her an air of frivolity.
"Let me explain."
Emily's first look at William set her in a tailspin; despite her frantic sprint, she couldn’t catch up to his raging steps.
The car window rolled down.
When Emily caught sight of the strikingly handsome man beside William, her complexion drained to white, her voice steely, "Get out."
“Is that how you’re going to speak to me?”
William coldly raised his gaze, his aristocratic features veiling a torrent of dark emotions, leaking from the ripped edge of his shirt.
He only believed what he could see, and seeing Emily’s fair, delicate face ignited a volcano of rage within him.
His glare was like a blade, wishing to slice the oblivious Emily, her shirt buttoned haphazardly.
"Before I change my mind," William leaned out the window, gripping Emily's neck and pulling her towards him, his tone authoritative as he ordered, “Get lost.”
Emily trembled. William always had a fierce hand; while she was headstrong, she never dared to truly defy him.
She bit her lip, gripping his arm tightly, voice pleading, "Can you please calm down and hear me out?"
“Cut the crap.”
William’s patience finally ran out.
Being so close, he could smell the scent of another man’s cologne on Emily, fueling his anger further. He unceremoniously tossed her onto the rugged, rain-soaked pavement.
Emily let out a soft gasp, her eyes reddening as she fell into the puddles, her pitiful gaze lifted toward him.
William remained unmoved, instructing the driver to proceed.
As the car started and the window rose, Emily's heart skipped a beat, panic surged within her.
"William, please let me explain. William..."
The car drove off mercilessly, and Emily chased after it for a few hurried steps, desperately calling William’s name, but the vehicle vanished into the stormy night without a backward glance.
William sat in silent fury, eyes shut tight in the backseat.
Thomas Langley casually shot him a glance. “You don’t actually feel sorry for her, do you?”
“Am I that pathetic?”
William kept his eyes closed, refusing to engage Thomas. He didn't want him thinking that, yet he could hardly help letting a cold retort slip.
Thomas raised an eyebrow, leaving the matter be.
In Kingston's circles, who didn’t know about William Ashford’s infatuation with Emily Hawthorne? He had rescued her from the night scene's chaos, pampered her, and turned the frail girl into a charming young singer, showering her with money to the point of delight.
Everything Emily had was given to her by William.
Yet now, she had betrayed him.
The next day, William wasn’t sure if it was the rain or his anger that left him feeling unwell. Regardless, he didn’t rest or even take medicine, driving straight to work.
He worked through the afternoon, finally starting to come back to himself, though a heavy sensation in his head persisted. Just as he intended to ask Secretary Lyle for some cold medicine, a knock came at his office door. William answered with a curt, “Come in.”
His brow furrowed deeply the moment he saw who stood in front of him.
Secretary Lyle was about to speak when William cut her off, irritation coating his words, “Who allowed you to bring her in? Get her out.”
Secretary Lyle was startled, as was Emily, standing nervously behind her.
Emily looked exhausted, her complexion wan.
“...William.”
She gazed at him with big, pleading eyes.
She had a knack for charming him, often diffusing his anger with a little coaxing, but this time she had clearly crossed a line. William’s anger was impenetrable.
"How dare you call my name? Get out. I don’t want to see you right now."
Emily bit her lip, stubbornly standing her ground.
Secretary Lyle, seeing the tension, inwardly cursed herself for allowing this to happen, and discreetly pulled at Emily, urging her to leave. But Emily stood rooted as though she hadn’t felt a thing.
With a forced smile, Secretary Lyle said, “Emily, maybe you should go back for now. The boss isn’t in the mood to see you.”
In the end, Secretary Lyle managed to usher Emily out.
As she left, Secretary Lyle returned with a cup of cold medicine, her thoughtful gesture aimed to mend the earlier rudeness.
William's expression remained stormy, as he instructed, “Never let her come up here again.”

Chapter 2

William Ashford frowned at the reddish-brown liquid in front of him, tossing back the bitter cough syrup in one swift gulp. The temperature was just right, but the taste left much to be desired. His assistant, Lyle, quickly produced two pieces of candied fruit to help wash it down.
With a barely perceptible nod, William accepted the treats but waved her away, signaling that he wanted to be alone.
Lyle exhaled a relieved breath as she exited the room.
Meanwhile, down at the office parking lot, Emily Hawthorne sat in her car, her expression cold as ice. Her phone kept ringing with calls, each one she met with increasing impatience. Just as she decided to block yet another number, another familiar name flashed across the screen.
With a reluctant sigh, she answered.
“Have you lost your mind? How long are you going to be stubborn? Get back here and apologize to Lord Quinton.”
Emily clenched her teeth, recalling the contempt in William's eyes earlier that day. “He ruined my relationship with William! There’s no way I’m apologizing to him.”
She heard silence on the other end, then the agent hesitantly replied, “Isn’t this what you chose for yourself?”
“Now you’re stuck. William’s got the clout. He’ll make you wait forever. Let’s face facts, you're just a pawn in this. Did you really think you could become Mrs. Ashford?”
“William doesn’t want you anymore. If you offend Lord Quinton, it’s game over,” the agent continued, sounding fed up. “This is your last chance. Will you come back or not? It’s up to you.”
Emily wasn’t sure when she left, but by the time William wrapped up his workday, she was nowhere to be found—which he took as a good sign.
On his way home, William received a call from his mother, Margaret Jenkins, insisting he come over for dinner.
With no other option, he instructed the driver to swing back to Ashford Manor.
As they approached the grand estate, William spotted a sleek black Bentley parked at the entrance.
Maybe it was just coincidence, but as William stepped out of the car, he caught sight of Thomas Langley lounging on the stone steps.
Thomas, who was William's age, seemed to tower over him, his strikingly handsome and aristocratic features drawing attention wherever he went.
“Back already?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow as William emerged in his suit, clearly just back from work.
“Yeah,” William replied nonchalantly.
As he attempted to walk past, Thomas unexpectedly reached out, checking William’s forehead like an overly cautious friend.
“You’ve got a fever,” Thomas frowned, his concern palpable.
William, too worn out for the usual banter, swatted Thomas’s hand away. “Maybe.”
“You should go to the hospital.”
William shrugged, unconcerned. However, Thomas’s grip on his arm was surprisingly firm as he pulled William toward the car.
“Come on, what’s the fuss? My mom’s waiting for me. I don’t have time for the hospital right now. My head is throbbing.”
Irritated, William shrugged off Thomas’s hand and strode toward the house.
After a brief pause, Thomas followed him inside.
Sounds of chit-chat floated from the living room, and as William entered, he casually glanced over at Thomas. “Uncle Langley and Aunt Beatrice are here too?”
“Yeah.”
The response was short, and Thomas stepped ahead to join the gathering.
William pouted, mentally cataloging the subtle rivalry brewing between them.
Inside the living room, William found Thomas's family, along with his parents. After exchanging greetings, he took the only available spot next to Thomas after removing his jacket, leaving him just in a shirt. Sitting so close, their limbs inevitably brushed together.
William was still feeling the effects of a mild fever, and Thomas's warm shoulder against him ignited an unexpected heat. As Thomas paused to sip his tea, their eyes connected, and William leaned back, propping his hand on his forehead in fatigue.’
At that moment, Thomas’s throat moved, and before following it with words, he coughed, nearly choking on his drink.
“Sorry,” he quickly uttered, before standing. “I’ll go check on something.”
Not keen on staying in the bustling living room, William seized the chance to trail after him.
In the bathroom, Thomas took a moment to regain his composure. Once he faced William, their eyes locked again.
“Do I look that frightening?” William asked, a frown touching his lips.
Thomas composed himself, rinsing out his mouth. “Didn’t see you there.”
“What are you doing here?” William ignored the question and turned to head upstairs.
Thomas followed him, climbing to the second floor and stopping at William’s room.
William seldom stayed at Ashford Manor, so many of his childhood belongings remained—like the school uniform he had worn in earlier years.
Stepping into the room, Thomas could feel William's lingering presence, the space filled with echoes of his past.
William yanked open a drawer and found several types of medication. He casually fished out a fever reducer, swallowing it dry while Thomas frowned, watching him as if he were a wolf tackling its prey. He quickly poured a glass of water for him.
“Thanks."
The taste of the fever reducer was unpleasant, and William’s grimace didn’t escape Thomas’s attention.
“After dinner, I’ll take my car back to my place,” Thomas said. They lived in the same building—one unit above the other.
William nodded, accepting the idea.
At dinner, William had little appetite but was surprisingly talkative, his upbringing and wit enabling him to engage effortlessly with anyone at the table. The confident version of William was on full display.
Thomas studied him closely, his curiosity concealed behind narrowed eyes. He was so engrossed that he barely registered his younger brother calling out to him.
“What did you say?” Thomas responded, startled.

Chapter 3

Thomas Langley felt a gentle nudge on his arm and turned to glance at his brother, Arthur Langley.
"Big bro, I want that," Arthur said, pointing to the cup of corn juice next to Thomas.
Thomas's younger brother was twelve years his junior and in the sixth grade this year.
William Ashford hadn’t touched alcohol that night; he was sipping on soft drinks. After pouring a glass for his brother, Thomas poured one for William too.
The corn juice was served hot, which was beneficial for someone like William, who was battling a cold.
Having just finished dinner, William had already loosened his tie and left a few shirt buttons undone, giving him a slightly debonair look.
He was chatting with Lord Quinton when he caught sight of Thomas's movement out of the corner of his eye and gave a slight nod.
By the time they returned from Ashford Manor, it was already past nine.
Thomas was driving, while William rested his head against the window, half-asleep. When they reached the underground garage, William rubbed his face awake and grabbed his outfit before stepping out of the car.
"You good for tonight?"
In the elevator, Thomas frowned slightly at William’s unusual pallor and asked, concern etched on his face.
"Of course I am. Do I look like a three-year-old?" William replied with a hint of irritation.
The elevator quickly reached William's floor.
As William exited, Thomas heard the sound of the fingerprint lock disengaging.
After a quick shower, William flopped onto his bed. In the middle of the night, he was abruptly awakened by the sound of the front door unlocking.
His groggy mind snapped to attention, and with a lithe movement, he jumped out of bed, grabbing the bedside lamp and stealthily approaching the door, his other hand gripping the handle.
He inwardly cursed the audacity of thieves these days, daring to break into his home. He was ready to smash the intruder's head in.
After waiting for what felt like forever with no further sound, he decided to confront whoever it was himself. Slowly, he opened the door, and in the dim light, the figure approached.
William squinted into the near darkness, ready to unleash a torrent of curses, when he recognized Thomas Langley.
"Seriously? It's just you," he sighed, rolling his eyes. He had half a mind to punch someone for disturbing his sleep.
"Who were you expecting?" Thomas smirked, his gaze shifting from William's face to the lamp he held. "Emily Hawthorne? You brought him here before."
"Not a chance. This is my place."
William placed the lamp on a nearby table, his irritation unintentionally igniting a flicker of amusement in Thomas.
William was willing to give Emily Hawthorne anything and would happily take him to work or introduce him to friends, but he drew the line at bringing anybody to his home. He didn’t want anyone else invading his personal space.
Thomas's response seemed to please him. His eyes twinkled with mischief. "I just came to check if you were still burning up."
William glanced at the clock; he had barely slept an hour.
"Not sure," he replied casually, heading for a glass of water.
"How do you know the code to my house?"
"Have you even changed it in all these years?"
"…"
"Let's check your temperature."
Only then did William notice the medicine kit Thomas had brought, sitting on the table.
William stood still, too fatigued to protest.
Thomas stepped forward, retrieving a thermometer. "You’re at 37.9 degrees. Not too bad."
"Okay, can you go now?"
William felt his legs weakening, no longer in the mood to chat.
Thomas nodded, realizing William needed rest. “I’ll leave the medical kit here. If your fever spikes again, take some more medication.”
“Got it.”
William’s sickness hit fast but faded just as quickly. By morning, he was already feeling much better.
Throughout the next day, Thomas’s medicine kit remained on the coffee table, eventually getting tucked away into the cabinet by Aunt Beatrice during her tidying.
After that encounter with Emily, he hadn’t dared come to the office again, but William often caught flashes of him lurking in the corners nearby.
William had been with Emily Hawthorne for over a year, which was the longest anyone had occupied that space in his life. Emily's good looks obviously stemmed from his mother’s genetics.
Unfortunately, his father had passed away long ago, and his mother remarried just to have another son, effectively neglecting him. Faced with severe financial struggles, Emily turned to working part-time at a bar, where William had spotted him and afterward gotten involved.
William was generous with Emily, spoiling him in the best ways. He had overheard countless people complimenting Emily for his good fortune in landing someone as attractive and wealthy as William Ashford.
But how had it come to this?
William couldn't understand what he had done wrong. In every possible way, he treated Emily better than anyone else could have claimed to.
The guy Emily cheated with was a well-known music producer within their circle. William was well aware of Emily’s ambitions — to become a famous singer, to hold concerts — and he had always provided him with resources for that dream.
Yet he never expected Emily would betray him, getting close to someone else. Each time he saw Emily, the memories of that night flooded back, replaying the grotesque scene of the less attractive, shorter guy cozying up to him. It sickened him to his stomach.
Then again, the absurdity of it all made him want to laugh. He felt like a character in a cheap drama — fooled by a mere fling.
Bad news travels fast — and on that day when William stepped out to enjoy himself, he unexpectedly overheard a group of women in an adjoining booth laughing at his expense.
Without a second thought, he stormed in and started a fight. Known for his ruthless reputation, it didn’t take long for the girls to find themselves battered and humiliated.
The noise attracted the attention of others in the adjoining room, who rushed out, realizing it was William Ashford in the thick of a brawl, and hurried to break it up.
Thomas pulled on William’s arm from behind, half coaxing and half dragging him away from the scuffle with gentle insistence.

Chapter 4

William Ashford’s chest was heaving, and he shot a dark glance at Thomas Langley. Thomas had taken a few hits himself, his clothes scuffed with shoe prints, and a painful bruise marked his cheek with a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.
Thomas felt just as grim as he considered that William had fought someone over Emily Hawthorne.
“Come on, you're too old for this. I just came to check on you.”
William flinched away when Thomas reached for his injury. He had no patience for Thomas’s nagging tone, and the thought that someone had messily marred his handsome face ignited a fire in him. “Mind your own business!”
Thomas narrowed his eyes, his voice frostier than ever. “You really don’t appreciate good advice, do you?”
William scoffed, turning to leave, but Thomas grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?”
He presumed William was itching for another fight.
“I'm going to get my clothes,” William snapped irritably. He had left his jacket in the private room.
“I’ll grab it; you go wait in the car.”
Despite his polished demeanor, William had a temper that could scorch anyone who crossed him; Thomas genuinely worried that he might go after the guys who had attacked him. Sure, they deserved it, given their nasty remarks, but no one needed to see William get his hands dirty.
Henry Blackwood was at the club as well, and Thomas had informed him that he would take William home while Henry dealt with the aftermath.
Once inside the car, William exhaled a torrent of frustration. He wasn’t one to lose control, but those guys had pushed every button—what they said was disgusting and low. Good friends could tease each other face-to-face, but these guys, who only ever saw him from behind, had bent their words into insults, and that was something William absolutely couldn’t tolerate.
At the heart of it all was Emily, a woman William now saw as a stain on his life. How well he had treated her! Yet, in return, he had ended up with nothing but trouble.
William realized he needed to find someone new, someone to show people that he, William Ashford, was wealthy and desirable, with a line of young men waiting for his attention.
As he mused over these thoughts, a strange anxiety spread through him.
“Maybe I should settle down.”
The thought startled him.
When had he started to entertain such a terrifying idea? Did he really want to live a life dictated by marriage? It felt stifling, draining the excitement from his life.
But was his current life one he enjoyed?
For the first time in over two decades of partying, William found himself reflecting deeply.
If he got married, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t face feelings of betrayal anymore.
He chuckled at his own naivety—had Emily really gotten to him this badly? Such bizarre notions had never crossed his mind before.
Lost in thought, he was jolted back to reality when the car door suddenly swung open. Thomas tossed William’s jacket onto the back seat, then pulled out antiseptic and cotton swabs from the trunk, ready to treat William’s injuries.
“Are you sharing your first aid kit with everyone? How do you have so much stuff?”
Thomas remained silent, focusing intently on disinfecting William’s wounds.
The cooling ointment he applied emitted a faint medicinal scent but wasn’t unpleasant.
An awkward silence settled in the car.
With Thomas sitting so close, it was impossible for William not to notice how handsome he had grown. They had met after graduating from Castlebridge University, where mutual friends introduced them. Their relationship was casual until all three—William, Thomas, and Henry—ended up living in the same building, which brought them closer.
Henry was both William's buddy and Thomas's college classmate, serving as their common link.
“All done.”
After tossing the used cotton swabs into the car’s tiny trash can, Thomas turned the ignition. William adjusted the mirror on the passenger side, glancing at his reflection to ensure he still looked presentable.
In a sudden fit of resolve, William deleted every one of Emily’s contact details, severing ties to all the resources he had poured into her career, including the album she had barely started.
“Now that I’ve moved on to a top producer, let her see how far she gets without me,” he thought, anger pulsing through him. If he decided to be ruthless, it would be without hesitation.
The next day at work, William stepped out of the elevator and was taken aback when someone suddenly darted toward him. Before he could react, he was engulfed in a familiar embrace, the scent of Emily’s perfume hitting him like a freight train. He groaned, twisting to bring her around and confront her.
“What the hell are you doing?”
William scowled, his voice icy and irritable.
Who would want to deal with their lover’s drama after a long day at work?
Emily had lost a considerable amount of weight, and it was impossible not to notice how troubled she looked. His turmoil had evidently affected her; this thought brought him a strange sense of satisfaction.
“William, why did you block me? Have you really given up on me? You’re being so cold!”
Her beautiful eyes locked onto his, shimmering with hurt and anger, and her pitiful expression made it seem like she was the victim here.
William had no desire to engage in this argument; he locked his brows tightly together. “Are you going to leave? If not, I’ll call security.”
But Emily lunged at him again, her grip around him fierce as if to say she’d lose him if he let go, pleading, “Please, don’t give up on me… I’m begging you.”
“Let go.”
“No,” she insisted. “If I let go, you’ll really walk away. Why won’t you listen to my side? I was drunk that night; can’t you forgive me? If you can, I’ll make it up to you in any way you want.”
William, physically fit and always driven by desire, felt constrained by her hesitations. Emily, a talented singer, had to guard her voice and felt hesitant about many things, leaving William occasionally frustrated.

Chapter 5

In the blink of an eye, William Ashford’s icy, cutting gaze met his.
“Let go of me,” William said, prying away the hands clutching him. A faint smirk graced his lips as he delivered every word with precision. “You choose to be a whore, but I’d never stoop to being a patron.”
“Emily Hawthorne, I wouldn’t touch something that’s been used—no matter how good it might look.”
“...”
Emily’s face flushed hot, as if she’d just been slapped in front of an audience. The chill in William’s unyielding eyes dropped her heart into an icy abyss.
Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, she didn’t dare attempt to reach out for him again.
William studied her for a moment, his brow knitted in contemplation, before turning his back and walking away. He knew Emily wouldn’t have the guts to chase after him.
--
Two weeks later.
The elegant cocktail party buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses as William Ashford strode in, clad in a sharp gray suit. Attendees quickly noted that his companion had changed—now by his side stood a striking young man, his face every bit as alluring as Emily’s.
William remained the center of attention, with Thomas Langley’s piercing gaze zeroed in on him. As William made introductions, Thomas didn’t bother to glance at anyone else, his focus thoroughly fixated on William.
It seemed Thomas’s unwavering attention didn’t go unnoticed. William shot him a sidelong glance and arched an eyebrow. “Thomas, no date tonight?”
Thomas had never cared much for the social scene, but he finally turned to evaluate William’s new companion, noting he appeared even younger than Emily, timidly lurking by William's side like a rabbit caught in headlights.
“Feeling better now?” Thomas asked, his expression as blank as stone.
“Much better,” William replied with the slightest hint of a smirk.
“Good to know,” Thomas said, raising his glass to William’s in a mock toast. “Seems like you’ve been keeping busy.”
William shrugged off the insinuation, opting to engage others in conversation instead.
The air grew stifling, and as Thomas emerged from the restroom, he spotted someone standing outside in the shadow of the trees, murmuring quietly on a phone call.
“Professor, I’ll do my best to return soon... Please don’t take away my credits...”
Edward Stokes hung up and turned to face Thomas Langley, whose icy glare made him shiver with unease. “Thomas, I-I wasn’t—”
“Are you leaving?” Thomas cut in.
Edward hesitated but nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m just... sneaking out. The school has such strict rules.”
“Then you should go.”
“What...?”
“You’re free to go. I’ll let William know.”
“Is that really okay?”
Edward wasn’t sure what brought about Thomas’s unexpected kindness, but with his intimidating demeanor, fear crept in.
“No trouble at all, really. I’ll handle it for you.”
With that, Edward, looking like a cornered mouse, shuffled past Thomas and quickly darted away, leaving a considerable distance before breaking into a sprint to escape Thomas’s steely gaze.
Thomas rolled his eyes and remained outside for a moment longer, his irritation mounting as he lit a cigarette.
William was known for never bringing guests home, and Thomas knew that Edward wouldn’t be an exception.
Little did they know, however, that William had already found another prospect to pass the time with. All that nonsense about him still pining for Emily was pure gossip.
Coming back reeking of smoke, Thomas found himself alone; Edward had vanished without a trace.
“Heading home?” Thomas asked, feeling the need for an escape as well.
“I’m not getting anything from this,” William said, having said his goodbyes to a few friends. They left together.
“You didn’t drive?” Observing how Thomas followed him into the car, it dawned on William—he genuinely intended to tag along.
“I sent the driver off,” Thomas replied casually. “What’s wrong? Is it inconvenient?”
“It’s definitely inconvenient,” William replied, gesturing with his chin.
Following where William's gaze rested, Thomas noticed Edward’s awkward grin, prompting him to vaguely nod.
“What’s your plan?” Thomas asked, his brow creasing as shadows beset his eyes.
“Why do you need to know?” William shot back playfully, pushing Thomas to exit the vehicle. “Get out. The driver can come back for you.”
“...”
Moments later, Thomas found himself unceremoniously shoved out of the car.
Watching the sleek black Mercedes speed away, his expression darkened, annoyance clear on his face.
Damn it.
With a frustrated kick, he sent a trash can tumbling, its clang echoing across the empty parking lot.
William Ashford never brought anyone home; Edward Stokes certainly wouldn’t be the exception.
As the Mercedes glided into the hotel’s underground parking, the moment William stepped out, he seized Edward in a fervent kiss, leaving him breathless as they exited the elevator.
“That’s not going to work out for you,” William teased, his words stirring something electric within Edward. A deep blush crept across Edward's cheeks.
Entering the darkened room, William flicked on the lights, illuminating the space. Edward followed, still buzzing from their kiss.
Instead of repeating his earlier enthusiasm, William hung up his coat and casually instructed Edward, “Hop in the shower—there are toiletries inside. Clean yourself up like I taught you.”
Edward nodded. “Marcus mentioned it.”
A grunt of acknowledgment escaped William as he listened to the bathroom door click shut.
Expectations of a swift return were dashed as the minutes stretched into a long wait. After more than forty minutes, a frown creased William’s forehead as he called out, “Edward, are you finished?”

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