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“Your father has gone nuts,” Meera breathes once we’re out into the evening sun. The air has a chill, but it's nothing compared to the cold my heart has become. There’s so much anger in me right now that I’m afraid I might knock a few teeth out because of how hard I’m grinding my jaw. Ric isn’t here. He left. And that just makes it so much worse…Right? Or maybe not. I don’t think I’d want him to witness this madness that has taken over my father. “Can you pinch me, Meera?” I whisper, my voice barely audible, and she misses it. What just happened can’t be real. When I look down at my hands, I find them shaking visibly. Meera wraps an arm around me, making me roll my eyes. I don’t need comfort right now. I need to shoot a hole into my father’s chest as big as a basketball. Suddenly, I find myself thinking of my mother. Snippets of their arguments begin to flash in my mind, until a thought forms: she wasted her life on him. Maybe that’s what took her so early. The prick of tears in t
Back in my penthouse, I start throwing clothes from my wardrobe into two suitcases. I’ve made half a mind to invite Aunt Lizzie to come along when a sound buzzes in the room. For a moment, I’m confused, wondering which appliance it came from and why it’s loud, until I remember it’s from my phone which is stuffed inside my handbag. A notification sound.There’s only one person I can think of — Meera — but when the screen lights up it’s Ric’s name that flashes on it. My heart picks up pace as I slump to the edge of my bed, tuck my hair behind my ear and open up the text.Ric: I should’ve stayed. I stare down at Ric’s message, unsure how to respond. "I should’ve stayed." It’s short, straight to the point, but it leaves me with this weird ache I can’t shake. I don’t even know if I really wanted him to stay, but now that he’s said it, I’m realising I half-expected to find him outside, waiting. And yet he left.Why? I want to ask, but I have no idea how. And why am I even so affected by thi
I hand Chris a glass of wine, and we settle on the couch, the silence between us both awkward and comfortable. “So,” he says after a beat, swirling his glass, “you’re really back for good?”“Looks like it,” I reply. “Had to get a new phone just to make sure people could reach me again. And I’m getting back with my publicist. You remember Anya?”“Anya? Uh, hard to forget her,” he says with a grin, lifting his glass. “Welcome back to our world, Natalie.”We toast, and I take a sip, letting the wine ease the tension a little. There’s a pause, and then he says, “It’s… it’s good to see you. Hollywood’s not quite the same without Natalie Jones around to stir things up.”I smile, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks, Chris. But I think I’m going to prefer just Natalie from now on.”He blinks, weighing in the thought before he nods without asking more about it, and the quiet stretches out again, comfortable in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. I can tell he wants to s
For a second, I just stare at the screen, my heart doing a funny little skip at the sight of Ric standing there with a bouquet. Then I remember my phone that’s lying on my bed — his last text being: How about tonight? Do you think you could welcome me into your house standing all naked behind that door? I glance over my shoulder at Chris, who’s comfortably sipping his wine, a warm smile lingering on his face as he watches me with easy curiosity. “Who is it this late?” he asks, making me look over to the clock on the wall. It’s 8pm. Chris has been here for almost 2 hours. How time passes when you’re having a good conversation. “Uh… just a second,” I tell Chris, quickly heading to the door. I take a breath before I open it, the cool night air sweeping in as I meet Ric’s gaze. His eyes are intense, darkening even more as his lips form a smirk. “Hi,” I say softly, my voice a little breathless. “Mr. Steward. I wasn’t expecting you.”He raises an eyebrow, sensing the alarm oozing off my
I can barely whisper the answer. “You. I’m yours.”A satisfied smile curves his lips as he stands, undoing his belt with deliberate slowness that makes me whimper. He positions himself between my legs, lifting my hips to meet him as he presses into me, filling me completely. I gasp, my hands clutching his shoulders as he moves, each thrust deep and unhurried, grounding me in the sensation of him.He’s all I can think about, all I can feel as he claims me, every nerve in my body aware of him. His pace quickens, the pleasure building with every movement until I’m spiraling, my body shattering as I cry out his name, lost in the sensation of him.Afterwards, Ric settles against me, his lips trailing over my neck as he leaves a hickey, marking me. I reach up, touching his face, brushing my fingers along the stubble on his jaw. There’s a feeling I can’t quite place, a vulnerability that makes me pause, but before I can put it into words, he kisses me again as he pulls off my sweater, his ton
When I get my first glimpse of the lake house in years, I don’t expect to be hit with memories I’ve made here. Happy ones with my mom, my brother Neil, and I’m sure there were some with Mike too. This was the one place my mom escaped to when she felt we needed to have… a childhood. My dad always made sure Neil and I were prepared, dressed for any and all occassions to be presented as his children. We were expected to be sharp, and overly polite, never as much as hovering a toe over the boundary of sophistication. My mom realised it affected us, in more ways than just losing the innocence and spontaneity that comes with being a child, and so she’d bring us here. And we’d spend most of our summers trekking the woods, splashing in the lake, playing seek. I realise I always called it my lake house, but it is my dad who bought it. He just never bothered to spend a day of his life away from work, as a break or to just cool off. So I suppose it was a gift to my mother. Who’s now gone. Whe
“They’re alive, Natalie. That’s all you need to know.”I swallow, feeling strangely deflated. I barely know anything about him, even though we’ve spent some time together. He’s like a puzzle with half the pieces missing. I want to press him for more, but the words die on my lips. The silence that settles between us feels heavy, almost uncomfortable.To divert my mind, I grab my phone and shoot a quick text to Mila, asking her what she’s doing. Her reply is rude but expected.Calendar Queen 👑: doing what I do when I’m not running around u saving ur ass.Calendar Queen 👑: living my quiet lyf. She continues typing so I wait, glancing at Ric from the corners of my vision. Calendar Queen 👑: u shouldn’t have gone alone after saying u were gonna reconnect with fam and friends. Calendar Queen 👑: I could come.I bite my lower lip as I type my reply.Me: im not alone Me: ric’s here with meMeera’s reply is swift and disapproving. Calendar Queen 👑: with Ric? r u serious? I warned u, Na
The first thing I notice is the sunlight spilling across my face, and warming my skin until I can’t ignore it anymore. I blink a few times, letting my vision adjust, and when I turn my head, I find Ric sprawled across the bed beside me. He’s naked, lying on his stomach, his breathing steady and quiet. His face is turned away, buried partially in the white satin pillow, but it’s the rest of him that holds my attention. The muscles of his back ripple faintly with each breath, tapering down to his hips, and then — God help me — his ass, perfectly sculpted and shamelessly on display. It's a sight that could make anyone forget their troubles. His black hair streaked with grey curls slightly at the nape of his neck, and I close my fingers into a fist, ignoring the urge to reach out and touch it, just to feel its softness under my fingertips. I glance down at myself, feeling the dull ache in my thighs, and the memories of last night rush back, heating my cheeks. Four rounds. Sweaty. Di
From the outside, Hayley’s family home looks like any other middle-income house. The lawn is modest, edged with flower beds that have seen better days. The curtains are drawn, casting a somber shadow over the brick facade. It’s the kind of place that holds echoes of laughter, birthdays, and quiet evenings spent together. A happy home, or at least, it was.Today, it holds grief, heavy and suffocating.The street is a circus. Paparazzi crowd the sidewalks, their lenses glinting in the gray light. The air buzzes with the hum of whispered speculation and the rapid clicks of cameras. Their presence here is insulting, but I acknowledge that they could do worse, and have done worse. I step out of the car, the sound of my heels on the pavement sharp. Immediately, the crowd shifts, a swarm of bodies struggling for a better angle. Questions are shouted, their voices slicing through the air, but I don’t acknowledge them.I don’t smile. I don’t wave.This isn’t the red carpet.Anya walks beside
I expect to hear something from my father, having signed the deal, but there’s not much to be disappointed about. At one point, I could have laughed like an evil maniac after this achievement — despite knowing this win wouldn’t have been possible without Ric’s help — but now it’s just meh. Thank you, next. Meera, however, wants to celebrate with pizza. When she sees my confused face, she tells me I deserve it for just what a joke my life has become. She’s not wrong. And then she casually slips to me that I got the role in Haymitch’s movie.I almost choke on the piece of pizza I’m chewing. “When did that happen?”“Oh, the call came when you were in the meeting. Anya was thrilled, believe it or not,” says Meera. The mention of Anya takes away any bit of appetite I had. “She was?”“Yeah,” Meera agrees with a mouthful. A bit of sauce oozes out of her mouth and begins to drip down her mouth, but before I can say anything, Matt wipes it off with a tissue. I pretend to not notice the exc
I leave my penthouse with Meera by my side, the world outside feeling too bright, too loud, for the space I’ve been hiding in. The air feels sharp against my skin as if it knows what I’ve been up to these past few days. I slip on sunglasses, trying to disappear into the back seat of the car, but Meera’s voice keeps pulling me back to reality.“You ready for this?” she asks, flipping through something on her tablet, probably the calendar she’s micromanaged for me since forever.“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I mutter, staring out at the blur of buildings passing by.Am I ready though? I don’t know. My mind drifts to the last time I stood in my father’s office, barely escaping the scrutiny that was hurled at me. No preparation, no defense — I’d walked into that room a girl playing dress-up. I still remember the way those boardroom vultures had smirked, like they couldn’t wait to watch me fail.I haven’t heard from my father, Elliot Jones, in weeks. Not a call, not a message, not even a col
Between kisses that leave me breathless and stolen touches that make me forget the world outside, Ric and I pore over the details of my presentation for the rest of the day. It’s a strange bubble we’ve created, a space where nothing else exists — no expectations, no consequences. Just the steady rhythm of our work and the occasional hum of desire pulling us back into each other’s arms.But the bubble was always bound to burst.The next morning, as sunlight creeps through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reality rears its ugly head. My phone buzzes once, twice, three times. I don’t bother checking it, knowing exactly who’s on the other end. The knocks come next, sharp and demanding, echoing through the penthouse like an alarm bell. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.“Who is it?” Ric’s voice is low, groggy from sleep, but his body is already tense beside me.“Anya,” I whisper, dread curling in my stomach. She always ignores the bell, and knocks instead whenever she’s fuming.He sits
I call Maisie and tell her not to come in today. No cooking, no cleaning. I tell her I need space, a day to myself. It’s a lie, of course, but she doesn’t press. When Meera calls asking if she can swing by, I cut her off with another lie. “I’m binge-watching some mindless show,” I tell her, feigning a lazy yawn. “Having you here would just remind me of the tragedy from yesterday. Let’s catch up later?” Anya’s call comes next. She wants to go over interview questions, her usual no-nonsense approach taking precedence over everything. “I can’t,” I say, forcing a hoarse rasp into my voice. “I think I’m coming down with something. Maybe tomorrow?” One lie after another. I weave them effortlessly, piling them up like bricks to fortify my cocoon. Because the truth is, I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t want to do anything except stay locked up in my penthouse with Ric. Ric, whose lips are currently tracing a path of fire down my thighs. My fingers knot in his hair, pulling and ho
We fall asleep on the couch that night, tangled together in a mess of bad decisions and fleeting comfort. Ric’s arms remain firm around my waist, and my head rests on his chest, rising and falling with his steady breaths. The nightmares don’t come, and I wonder if it’s the warmth of his embrace or the devil’s presence itself keeping them at bay.I’ve killed people, Natalie.The words echo in my head as the first rays of sunlight filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing us in soft, golden light. My cheek is pressed against his chest, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath me. For a while, I just lie there, letting the rhythm soothe me in ways I don’t understand, in ways it shouldn’t.His arms don’t budge, even as I lift my head to study his face. The man who held me so tenderly last night. The man who kisses like he’s burning but pulls away like he’s drowning. The man who has killed people.I trace my finger along the lines of his face, memorizing the edges as if they could
I laugh bitterly, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “Yourself? That’s what this is about? You think you’re some kind of monster I can’t handle? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds, Ric?”His eyes darken, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You don’t understand, Natalie. I’ve done things… things that would make you look at me differently. Things that would make you run.”“Then explain,” I challenge, my hands tightening on his face. “Stop assuming I can’t handle it.”He hesitates, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. When he finally speaks, his words are raw and jagged, like they’re being ripped from his soul. “I’ve killed people, Natalie.”Suddenly I can’t breathe. All the air around us seems to have vanished. I blink, my hands slipping from his face as his confession settles between us like a bomb.“What?” My voice is barely audible, but it’s the only word I can manage.He doesn’t look away, his gaze piercing. “I’ve killed people. It’s not something I can take back, and it
I can’t tell if it’s the adrenaline coursing through me or the way his dark eyes hold mine, as if he’s searching for something he’s terrified to find.“Try,” I say again, my voice shaky. It’s a plea, a desperate attempt to save this. Save us. Whatever we are, I know it’s worth saving. I don’t know what thoughts are swirling behind those dark eyes, what decisions they’re weighing, what explanation he’s trying to weave into coherent words. All I know is that — whatever it is, I’ll take it. God, I hate him for making me feel like this — so exposed, so vulnerable. But I hate myself more for still wanting him, for needing him, even now.And when his eyes return to me it’s all I can do to not run to him and wrap my arms around him. A part of my brain tries to remind me of the way he dismissed me, disregarding all the time we spent together, all the kisses. But he did just say that he couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t matter, right? “Ric,” I prompt, unable to keep my patience any longer. “I
You may not have even realised.Those words follow me for the rest of the evening, haunting my every waking moment. I didn’t realise, no. Not until just a few hours ago when it seemed like a possibility. The possibility of being pregnant with Ric’s child. I don’t know what I was expecting to hear, until the very last second before the doctor reentered with the results. But miscarriage had never struck my mind. It seems so bizarre now. A cruel joke, almost. Here’s a problem, but wait there’s a solution. And I’m not satisfied with either. The doctor said there had to be some more tests that needed to be done because she found something suspicious. I was too dazed to be concerned, but Meera stepped forward and asked if it was something to worry about. A lost child.I don’t think anything can take your attention away from that. A child you didn’t even realise you were carrying. On the way back, Meera tries to uplift my sullen mood by saying that it wasn’t quite a baby — just a bunch