I turned off the water and stepped out, my skin still humming from the warmth. Grabbing a towel from the rack, I dried myself quickly, my breath unsteady as I walked to the mirror.
The towel slipped from my grasp, pooling at my feet. I stared at my reflection, running my hands over my bare skin. My breasts were full, swollen with a need that had long gone unanswered. My hips curved in perfect symmetry, a silent invitation—one that had never been accepted. I had the body of a vixen and the mind of a nerd. Two sides of a coin that never should have fit together. But it was those two sides that had made Adonis swoon. A wistful smile tugged at my lips. Adonis. He had never tried to suppress my fire. He had wanted me exactly as I was—brains, beauty, and all the chaos in between. I sighed, shaking the thought away as I reached for my phone on the dresser. My heart did a stupid little jump, hoping for a missed call or a message from Layden. Nothing. I groaned in frustration, tossing my phone back onto the dresser before slipping into a silk nightgown. The cool fabric kissed my skin as I padded toward the bed, where Andra lay sprawled out, breathing softly. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the city bleeding through the sheer curtains. The scent of vanilla and fresh linen filled the air, wrapping me in familiarity. A bookshelf stood against the far wall, cluttered with novels, old notebooks, and framed photographs from our college days. The bedside table held a lamp, a stack of magazines, and Andra’s ever-growing collection of half-used lip glosses. I paused, debating whether to wake her. But she was already fast asleep, one leg hanging off the bed, her arm thrown dramatically over her face. Shaking my head, I climbed onto the other side of the bed, tucking myself beneath the cool sheets. The moment my head hit the pillow, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, pulling me back to the very first day I met Sandra Latisha John. Westrum University, New York 2015 – Freshman Year. The campus had been a maze of towering brick buildings, sprawling lawns, and students buzzing with the energy of new beginnings. I had been hopelessly lost, clutching a crumpled map in one hand and a backpack stuffed with textbooks in the other. My hair was a mess, my face flushed from the late summer heat, and my nerves were frayed. I had been wandering in circles for what felt like hours, trying to find the humanities building, when she appeared. Sandra Latisha John. She was a whirlwind of confidence, her dark curls bouncing as she strode toward me, a smirk playing on her lips. She was wearing a cropped leather jacket over a band tee, ripped jeans, and combat boots that clashed with the preppy aesthetic of Westrum. Her brown eyes sparkled with mischief as she took in my frazzled state. "Need a tour guide, Snow White?" she had teased, her voice dripping with amusement. I had stammered something incoherent, and she laughed—a loud, unapologetic sound that made a few passing students turn their heads. Without waiting for a proper response, she grabbed my arm and pulled me along, launching into a rapid-fire commentary about the campus. "Over there’s the library—great for naps, terrible for studying. That building? Avoid it unless you want to get stuck in a conversation with Professor Hargrove about the 'philosophical implications of postmodernism.' And that," she said, pointing to a nondescript building, "is where they keep the good coffee. You’re welcome." And just like that, we clicked. When we found out we shared the same writing major, we became inseparable. She was the brawn, and I was the brains. She pulled me into trouble, and I pulled her out. We were opposites in every way, but it worked. Sandra was the kind of friend who made life feel like an adventure, even when it wasn’t. She dragged me to parties I never would’ve gone to, convinced me to skip class for spontaneous road trips, and once talked me into streaking across the quad at midnight. (We got caught, of course, but she charmed our way out of trouble with a story so outrageous the campus security guard let us go with a warning.) Layden had been different. We met in a debate seminar during my sophomore year. He was Westrum’s golden boy—tall, lean, with glasses that always seemed to slide down his nose and a perpetually serious expression. He was the kind of person who carried a leather-bound notebook everywhere he went, jotting down quotes from philosophers and poets like they were sacred texts. We were the academic power duo—winning debates, dominating essay competitions, ruling the intellectual battlefield. He was the nerdy genius at the top of the school board until I came along, and suddenly, Westrum had two prodigies. At first, it was more of a competition. We were constantly trying to one-up each other, our rivalry fueling late-night study sessions and heated debates. But over time, it became something else. We bonded over our shared ambition, our love for literature, and the quiet understanding that we were each other’s equals. Everything with Layden had felt right—safe, steady, predictable. He was my safe space, my anchor in a world that often felt chaotic. He was the kind of person who remembered my favorite tea, who noticed when I was stressed before I even said a word, and who always knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. But Adonis? He was chaos. The hot, rich, bad boy with a reputation, the temptation every girl was warned to avoid. I should have avoided him. I *tried* to avoid him. But fate had other plans. He was in his finals, and seniors in their finals were usually assigned to mentor a freshman on a research project. And by some cruel twist of fate—he was paired with me. I had known from the first moment I saw him that he was trouble. He was too attractive. Too charming. Too much. Everything he said made me blush. Every touch, every teasing smirk, every casual gift sent my pulse into a frenzy. And when he looked at me, it wasn’t with admiration or quiet respect—it was with raw, unfiltered want. I had never been wanted like that before. He was my first kiss and, in a way, my last. Layden had always called it the "bad boy effect"—a reckless infatuation, an illusion of passion. He believed Adonis was just trying to get into my pants. And maybe, in some ways, he was right. But Layden never knew who I had been paired with for the project. Not once did he ask. And even if he had known, I doubted he would have cared. Or maybe... he just never saw Adonis as a threat. But Layden didn’t understand. Adonis didn’t just flirt, he invaded. No matter how many walls I built, he always found a way in. And yet… I had chosen Layden. Because why settle for a heart-wrenching bad boy when you had someone who was a safe space? Choosing Layden had been the best decision. A nerd with a nerd—a classic love story. What could possibly go wrong? And in this love story, the good guy marries the good girl. The night before Adonis graduated, he had given me a bracelet—delicate emeralds set in gold—and an offer: one hot, wild, untamed night. "Because it matches your eyes," he had said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "And because you’re the best thing I'm yet to have." Yet to have? His words had sent a dangerous tremor through me. But I had known better. I had known his type. Still, I had kept the bracelet. Had he ever made it to my bed? No. Did I regret it?... That was a question I wasn’t sure I could answer. But Layden? He was love at first sight. He was my choice. And tomorrow, I would walk down the aisle and make that choice forever. I curled deeper into the blankets, my fingers absentmindedly brushing the bracelet still resting on my wrist. Sleep didn’t come easily that night. Not with the ghost of a masked stranger still lingering beneath my skin, stirring something I hadn’t felt in years. And definitely not with the unsettling thought that, for the first time in six years… I wasn’t so sure I had made the right choice. But I knew better. It was just pre-wedding jitters. I thought of my parents—of the empty seats they’d leave behind at my wedding tomorrow—and a tear slipped down my cheek, then another, until I was crying shamelessly into my pillow. I would walk down the aisle alone. No father’s arm to hold, no mother’s tearful smile. Just me. They were still mad—at me, at Layden. I had turned down a billion-dollar publishing contract when Layden proposed, and they never forgave me for it. Andra and my parents had been so proud. Their only child, finally achieving her dream. I was supposed to be the beginning of generational wealth, of legacy. All my days spent lost in Shakespearean tragedies and great American novels had finally paid off. And Layden? He had been my competition, my anchor, my inspiration. But they didn’t see him the way I did. They told me to focus, to build myself before thinking of marriage. But deep down, I knew—no one could love me like Layden. And if I couldn’t have the best of both worlds, I would choose my world. I chose him. To prove it—to him, to my parents, to the world—I walked away from my dream job. And since then, I hadn't picked up a pen, hadn't written a single word. But in the morning, when I stood before Layden, when I vowed to love him forever—it would all be worth it. Wouldn’t it? A fresh wave of tears spilled over. I had sent my parents an invitation last month, hoping, praying, that maybe—just maybe—they’d show up. That I’d see them sitting in the crowd, watching me with something other than disappointment. But the silence stretched. No calls. No texts. Nothing. Would they really miss their only daughter’s wedding? I squeezed my pillow tighter, muffling the sound of my quiet sobs. Whether they liked it or not, I was going to prove to them that Layden was worth it. That we were worth it. That his love for me was infinite and infinite was all I needed."Girl, wake up!" Andra yelled, shaking me half-haphazardly.I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow. "Nooo, Andra. What time is it?""It's 7 a.m.! You're going to be late for your own wedding!" she shrieked. "Wake up, Janice Felicia O'Brian!""Shit!" I cursed, jolting upright as panic surged through me. I was going to be late for my own wedding.Without sparing a second glance, I dashed into the bathroom, taking the fastest shower of my life. By the time I stepped out, Andra was already waiting, towel in hand. She helped dry my hair before sitting me in front of the mirror, her fingers already working their magic.I exhaled deeply, still catching my breath. "Thank you, Andra," I murmured sincerely.Finally taking a good look at her, I realized she was already showered, her makeup flawless, her hair done to perfection—though, true to Sandra fashion, she was still draped in her robe, no doubt savoring every moment before slipping into her dress."My mom and sister should be he
Layden's grip tightened on my hand, the warmth of his touch grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling in my chest. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only him and me, standing at the altar, surrounded by the whispers and stares of onlookers. But none of that mattered. Not now. I looked up at him, my heart racing. His eyes, those deep brown pools, were filled with so many things—love, hope, and something deeper. Maybe it was the promise of forever. Maybe it was a quiet reassurance, an unspoken vow that no matter what had happened, we were here. Together. "Do you, Janice Felicia O'Brian, take Layden Macarus James to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the officiant’s voice broke through the quiet, his words echoing in the church. I took a steadying breath, my heart pounding in my chest. This was the moment. The decision I had made. It was all leading to this. "I do," I whispered, my voice barely audible, but firm. The officiant nodded, then turned to Layden. "And do y
His hands were everywhere—rough, demanding, sliding over my skin as if they owned it. They gripped my breasts, fingers digging into the soft flesh, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. My nipples were already stiff, aching under his touch, and when he pinched them between his fingers, rolling and tugging, a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through me. Heat pooled low in my stomach, my body responding to him as if it were wired to his every move. I didn’t waste time. My hands fumbled with his suit, yanking at the jacket until it slid off his shoulders and hit the floor with a muffled thud. His tie came next, loosened and tossed aside, followed by his shirt, buttons popping open as I dragged it down his arms. His chest was bare now, muscles taut and inviting, and I couldn’t resist running my hands over him, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my palms. I pushed him back onto the bed, and he went willingly, his eyes dark and hungry as they raked over me. The way he looked at me—like he
I woke to the cold, empty expanse of the bed beside me, the sheets tangled and lifeless. The space where Layden should have been was hollow, the pillow untouched. My heart sank, a familiar ache settling in my chest. For a fleeting, desperate moment, I let myself wonder if last night had been a nightmare—if Layden had simply fallen asleep beside me, exhausted from the whirlwind of our wedding. But the silence in the house was deafening, that told me otherwise.I sat up slowly, the weight of the morning pressing down on me. My temples throbbed, and I rubbed them with trembling fingers, trying to push away the dull ache that had taken root in my chest. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if the walls of the room were closing in. I swallowed hard, the metallic taste of regret lingering on my tongue. I wasn’t going to let this ruin us. We just needed to talk. To understand each other. And if words weren’t enough, I’d show him.I climbed out of bed, my feet sinking into the plush carpet as
After breakfast, I hurried upstairs to shower quickly before rejoining Andra. I slipped into a yellow sundress that ended mid-thigh and grabbed a pair of sunglasses—hardly the attire of a married woman, but then again, I was still a virgin, so it didn’t count. When I came back downstairs, Andra and I stepped outside and into her car. The drive to Chelsea felt like a slow descent into memory. The streets, wide and alive, pulsed with the energy of a neighborhood caught between its artistic roots and creeping affluence. Rows of red-brick townhouses stood tall and proud, their facades softened by ivy crawling up the sides, whispering of a past that refused to be erased. Gallery windows shimmered with abstract paintings, and boutique cafés spilled warm laughter onto the sidewalks, their tiny round tables crowded with people who had nowhere to be but everywhere to talk. But for me, Chelsea wasn’t the art or the boutiques—it was home. Andra drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, steal
The door opened, and I heard the smooth lilt of a woman’s voice before I saw her."Layden," she purred, her tone carrying the easy confidence of someone who knew she was welcome.Layden chuckled, his voice lighter than it had been with me all day. "Cassidy, come in."Then she stepped inside and everything about her set me on edge.She was tall—statuesque, even—with cascading blonde waves that framed a face too perfect to be real. Her scarlet dress clung to her curves like it had been painted on, dipping scandalously low in the front and ending dangerously high on her toned thighs. She smelled of something expensive, a floral perfume that carried through the air, seeping into my space as she glided toward me.Her eyes—striking blue, like shards of ice—swept over me, assessing, measuring. Then, she smiled, slow and knowing and extended a perfectly manicured hand."You must be Janice."I wiped my palms against my dress before taking it. Her grip was firm, lingering a beat too long."And
He noticed my silence and smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, it’s just work, babe. You know how it is." I wasn’t sure how to respond. My stomach churned as I forced myself to stay calm. The fact that Cassidy was staying the night, and he’d failed to mention it until now, stung. It’s just work, he said. But it didn’t feel like just work. Cassidy, oblivious to the growing tension, smiled brightly at me. "Don’t worry, Janice. It’ll be fun. We’ll keep it quiet, won’t we, Layden?" I clenched my fists at my sides, struggling to keep my composure. I didn’t want to make a scene—didn’t want to show just how hurt and betrayed I felt. But the thought of her here all night, so close to Layden, made my skin crawl. Layden caught my eye again, but this time his expression softened. "Jan, it’s really nothing to worry about," he said, his voice almost coaxing. Nothing to worry about? I could feel my frustration bubbling up, but I pushed it down, swallowing the bitte
The door opened immediately after they left, and I paused. Could that be Lay? Was he coming back for me? My heart leapt at the thought. He was way too in love with me to leave me like this, wasn’t he? I jumped to my feet, hastily wiping my tears, only to be met with Andra’s voice. “Girl, your husband is fineeeeee!” she called out, her tone teasing as she stepped inside. She tossed her purse onto the couch and made her way to the kitchen, her heels clicking against the floor. “And is it just me, or did Lay look different this morning? I bet marriage sex hits different,” she added with a chuckle, her laughter filling the room. But her laughter faded as she took in the sight of me—the broken glasses on the floor, the spilled juice staining the carpet, and me, standing there with red, puffy eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. “OMG, are you okay?” she asked, her expression softening as she carefully stepped around the broken glass to get to me. I shook my head, unable to respond, fresh tea
I pushed into one of the stalls, closing the door behind me as I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps in the restroom. My breath hitched, my body stiffening instinctively.I couldn't let anyone see me like this.Not Layla. Not some stranger.Not even Icarus.Especially not Icarus.I pressed a hand over my mouth, swallowing down the emotions threatening to spill over. The tightness in my chest was unbearable, but I forced myself to stay silent, to breathe through it.Just a few minutes.Just long enough to pull myself together. Then I'd walk out of here like nothing had happened.The restroom door banged open, laughter spilling in like a cruel, creeping poison. I barely had time to stifle my breath before the voices followed."God, I still can't believe it," one of them sneered, her voice sharp, slicing through the quiet like a blade. "I mean, we knew she was shameless, but this? She's an actual slut."“Not even a high-class one,” another voice chimed in, dripping with mockery. “I mean,
"Padrino, ho trovato qualcosa su—(God father I found something about—)"Alessio."Oi, serpente, stai buono. Sto sistemando la tua regina, (Oi, snake, stay put. I'm handling your queen.)" Icarus said, his voice steady yet unfazed.Alessio froze mid-step. His breath hitched, his entire body going rigid as if something unseen had just wrapped around his throat. Then, as if on instinct, he took a step back."Pardonimi (Forgive me)" His voice wavered slightly.What just happened? What had Icarus say? And how had he known Alessio was coming—had he heard his footsteps, felt his presence before the door even opened?The weight of my situation crashed over me. I was naked. Two men in the house.Heat flooded my face as Icarus moved, his broad frame still a barrier between me and Alessio's gaze. Without looking away, he reached down, fingers finding the towel on the floor. His chest brushed mine as he pulled me with him, the contact sending a dizzying pulse through me—whether from the wine or th
The hum of the engine filled the silence between us. City lights flickered through the tinted windows, casting brief flashes across Alessio's face, but he remained unreadable. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift, as if he hadn't just dropped a man to the pavement without so much as a second thought. My hands curled into fists in my lap. I was still breathing too fast, still feeling the phantom weight of Layden's grip on my wrist. Still hearing his voice, sharp and venomous, curling around my mind like smoke. Alessio didn't look at me, but I knew he was aware. He had been watching me all night. Hell, he was probably watching me now, even without turning his head. I forced my voice to steady. "You didn't have to do that." His fingers flexed against the wheel, but he didn't respond right away. Then, with quiet finality, he said, "Yes, I did." I let out a breath, leaning back against the seat. The scent of leather and something subtly spic
I took a deep breath, finally allowing myself to settle in. I wasn’t going to keep waiting for Icarus to arrive. Waiting would mean I had a thing for him—which I absolutely did not.Or you’re just lying to yourself, my subconscious taunted.I ignored it.Lying back on the bed, I stared at the ceiling. The room was silent, pressing in around me. It was unfamiliar yet oddly soothing. Maybe I should start getting used to it—after all, this was home now.My gaze drifted to the suitcase on the floor. Lupe had brought the rest of my bags earlier, stacking them neatly in the corner. I knew I should start unpacking, but the idea of a hot shower was far more appealing. A quiet thrill stirred in me, a flicker of curiosity I couldn’t ignore.I stood, gently undressed, and made my way into the bathroom.It was stunning—simple yet elegant. Soft white tiles stretched from floor to ceiling, reflecting the warm glow of recessed lighting. A deep soaking tub sat against one wall, next to a sleek glass
I left work early—per Icarus’ instructions, of course. A few minutes after I walked out of his office, he sent Layla to deliver the message.And I quote: "Tell Ms. Janice she’s excused for the rest of the day so she can get her things in order."The audacity.It was just a move-in, not a life-altering event. It wasn’t like we’d be sharing the same bed.Still, the whole situation felt entirely too personal for my liking. I wasn’t thrilled about it, but there was no point in dragging my feet. I’d pack my things, get this over with, and remind myself—this was strictly professional. Nothing more.It couldn't be that bad, I tried to convince myself—but I knew better. My mind drifted back—to the time we were assigned as project partners in college. We spent almost every moment together, and somehow, those moments always ended in stolen kisses and tangled limbs. I jammed the key into the door, twisting it in frustration before pushing it open. Icarus had said the driver would arrive by 5pm
The blaring alarm jolted me awake. A quick glance at the clock—just past six. Andra was probably already getting ready for work.I wasted no time, jumping into the shower and brushing my teeth. For a brief moment, I considered leaving my hair in its natural state, but one look in the mirror confirmed that was a terrible idea. With a sigh, I stretched, then gathered my hair into a messy bun, letting a few strands frame my face. A touch of makeup later, and I looked somewhat presentable.My gaze flickered to the shopping bags still sprawled on the floor as I contemplated what to wear. Rummaging through them, I finally settled on coffee-brown pants and a dark brown bodysuit, pairing them with simple blue-lens glasses. Satisfied with my reflection, I grabbed my laptop, phone, an extra copy of the divorce papers, and my new office bag from yesterday’s chaotic shopping spree.Black flats. Silver accessories. An eternity necklace, matching earrings, and a bracelet.Just as I was about to hea
After the call with Icarus, I sat there for a moment, staring at my phone like it had personally offended me. Andra, still buzzing from whatever that conversation was, flopped onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh."Alright, Miss Special-Assistant, what are we eating?"I rolled my eyes, setting my phone down. "I don't know, you pick.""Say less." She grabbed her phone, scrolling through the takeout options. "Burgers or Chinese?""Chinese," I said absentmindedly, my thoughts still spinning."Good choice," she nodded, placing the order before tossing her phone onto the couch. "So, you gonna tell your parents about your new fancy job?"I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah, I guess I should."I dialed my mom’s number. She answered on the second ring, her voice warm and familiar. "Janice, baby! How are you?"I smiled, leaning back against the headboard. "I'm good, Mom."There was a pause, then her tone softened with concern. "Are you still having those dreams?"I hesitated, my
The door clicked shut behind me, but I still felt him on my skin.I exhaled slowly, adjusting my grip on my bag. The air outside his office was cooler, quieter, but no less heavy. Like stepping out of a storm only to realize I was still soaking wet.A sharp sound pulled me from my thoughts.Layla.She stood a few feet away, polished and composed, a folder in her outstretched hand. Her smile was professional—warm, but with an edge of unreadability that reminded me she worked for Icarus. That she had likely seen dozens of people walk out of that office before me, though perhaps not in my position."Welcome aboard," she said, handing me a folder."Thanks," I murmured, gripping it tighter than necessary.She didn’t waste time. "Come with me. I’ll show you around."Without waiting for a response, she turned briskly toward the elevators. I hesitated only for a second before following, matching her pace.We stepped inside, and she pressed a button."This building has ten floors and three ele
I hadn't even realized when the evening bled into night. One minute, we were unpacking, talking about Icarus; the next, we were laughing about that time we tried baking in college and nearly set my apartment on fire.Outside, the sky had darkened, swallowing the city whole"I think it's time we call it a day," Andra said, stretching at the doorway. "You'll probably feel better in the morning."I nodded, offering a small smile before pulling her into a life-threatening hug. "Good night."She snorted but squeezed me back before disappearing down the hall.Once she was gone, I turned to the mirror, catching sight of my reflection.I was still in the #breakuppackage pajamas from last night, looking an absolute mess. I can't believe I let Cassidy see me like this. My hair was still in a lopsided bun, stray curls escaping in every direction. I groan, running a hand down my face. A shower. I need a shower.I took my time under the warm water, letting it wash away the exhaustion clinging to m