Mercer stood by the bed, gazing at the captivating woman lying there.

With a nonchalant grin, he picked up a bank card from the nearby table.

He dangled it before her and said, “Make tonight worthwhile, and this card’s yours.

With a bewitching smile, she sat up and reached for the knot of his bathrobe.

“I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of,” she assured him.

An hour had passed when Mercer sat on the bed’s edge, clad in a bathrobe, with his robe belt tossed carelessly at his feet.

His fingers clutched a cigarette while the floor around him was covered in spent stubs.

The bathroom door opened with a soft click, and a woman emerged, her approach hesitant and her expression frozen.

“Mr.

Aston, I…” she began timidly.

Without a word, Mercer grabbed a bank card from beside the bed and tossed it to her.

Blowing out a ring of smoke, he commanded, “Take the money and leave, and don’t breathe a word about today, got it?”

“Sure, sure.

My lips are sealed,” she assured quickly, scooping up the card before slipping into her bag and hurrying out.

Once alone, Mercer’s frustration bubbled over, and he crushed his cigarette underfoot.

Despite the woman’s attempts to entice him, nothing had stirred within him.

Ever since that incident in the alley years ago, he had been unable to perform.

He knew he was straight, but his impotence infuriated and humiliated him.

Maybe it was his way of compensating, chasing after women, trying to prove his masculinity.

But every intimate encounter ended in shame when he couldn’t perform.

It was his darkest secret, so he played at love instead, masking his deep-seated insecurities.

But today had been different.

At the karaoke bar, when he pulled Nancy close and ki*sed her, something ignited within him.

He thought he was cured, driven by a newfound desire.

He had hoped to carry that passion into his rendezvous, but once again, he faced disappointment.

Why did this happen?

He cradled his head in agony, dreading the thought of facing Nancy, yet inexplicably, she was the only one who had sparked a reaction in him.

“Oh God, are you f@cking kidding me?” Mercer grumbled as he sprawled out on the large bed.

Nancy’s image haunted him.

Her flustered expression and timid eyes in the alley had been surprisingly touching, almost pitiable.

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