Chapter 3: First Night

Eve struggled to breathe.

It wasn’t because Alex was holding her too tight—though he definitely was. Every second in his arms chipped away at the walls she’d spent years building. He looked just like the photos, just like Sophia had always described. Tall. Broad shoulders. The scent of his cologne, expensive with a rougher edge underneath. All man.

But the way he touched her—like she was both his hope and his downfall—she’d never felt anything like that before.

He pulled back, just enough to see her face. His eyes—gold, burning, almost too bright up close—searched hers. Hungry. Desperate.

“Sophia,” he said, voice soft.

The name hit her like a slap. She wasn’t Sophia. Not ever.

But she had to be, for now.

“I missed you,” she whispered, the lie scraping her throat.

His mouth crashed onto hers.

Nothing about the kiss was gentle. Two years of grief and anger and longing all collided, pouring out in one brutal, consuming moment. His hands framed her face, holding her steady while his lips owned hers.

Eve’s knees buckled. She grabbed his shoulders just to stay upright, shocked by how fast her body betrayed her. Heat blazed low in her belly, wild and instant.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not like this.

But Alex wasn’t stopping. He pressed her back against the wall, hands sliding down to her hips, pulling her against him. There was no hiding what he wanted.

“Christ,” he groaned, barely breaking from her mouth. “I thought I’d never—”

He kissed her again, deeper. His tongue teased hers, slow and skilled, and she made a sound she’d never heard from herself.

Her mind screamed at her—too fast, too much, too real—but her body leaned in, wanting more.

When they finally came up for air, both of them were breathing hard. He rested his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice rough and low. “I shouldn’t—after everything—”

“No.” She touched his face, her fingers shaking. “I needed that. I needed to feel something real.”

His eyes went darker. “You’re staying here. Tonight. Every night.”

He didn’t leave room for argument.

Eve nodded, heart thundering.

Dinner barely registered. Lila watched them, her gaze sharp and careful. Alex barely let go of Eve’s hand, introducing her to staff hired after the fire—nobody who’d know Sophia well enough to catch on.

Later, he led her up to the master suite.

It was huge. Modern. Dark wood, white sheets, windows that looked out over the grounds. Nothing like the old house in the photos—none of that old-world glamour.

“Your things,” he said quietly, nodding at the closet. “I kept them.”

Eve’s stomach twisted. Sophia’s clothes. Sophia’s whole life.

“I don’t remember,” she said, her voice small.

“That’s okay.” He came up behind her, arms around her waist. “We’ll make new memories.”

His lips brushed her neck. She shivered.

“Alex…”

“Shh.” He turned her gently. “Let me take care of you.”

The tenderness in his voice broke her down more than any kiss could.

He undressed her slowly, almost reverently. Each piece of clothing peeled away like it mattered. When she stood naked in front of him, he just looked at her—drinking her in, hungry and awed.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “You always were.”

Her cheeks burned. Sophia was the beautiful one. The bold one.

But under his gaze, she felt seen.

He lifted her onto the bed and laid her down with almost ridiculous care. Then he undressed, baring a chest marked with faint scars—reminders of the fire. He’d tried to save her.

The guilt hit hard, fast.

When he finally joined her, skin on skin, everything else faded. His mouth moved to her breasts, his hands learning every inch of her. The way he whispered her sister’s name—it was almost a prayer.

Eve arched into him, lost in pleasure that felt too real, too much.

After, he held her close, his fingers gentle in her hair.

“I won’t lose you again,” he whispered against her temple.

Eve stared up at the ceiling, eyes burning.

How long could she keep this up before the whole thing went up in flames?