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“Your mole… it’s beautiful,” the man murmured huskily, his fingers circling the small black dot on the woman’s breast—so tiny it was almost unnoticeable.

Their naked bodies were tangled beneath the sheets, breaths uneven, hearts racing. Whether it was the alcohol coursing through their veins or a hunger neither could explain, they couldn’t seem to get enough of each other.

Without warning, he moved again, drawing a soft gasp from her lips. His hand never left the breast with the mole, as though it anchored him there. Soon, their bodies stilled, pleasure crashing over them in waves.

And then it happened again.

And again.

They didn’t stop until exhaustion claimed them both, dragging them into a deep, unthinking sleep.

Lovett Lice had never experienced release in her two years of marriage.

Not until tonight.

And not with her husband.

After the breathless encounter, the two strangers lay entwined on the bed, fast asleep.

***

Four hours later.

Lovett stirred.

Her lashes fluttered open, and she blinked repeatedly, trying to adjust to the darkness pressing in around her. The room felt unfamiliar—too quiet, too strange.

Her heart skipped.

She knew instantly that she wasn’t in her matrimonial bedroom. This wasn’t her bed.

Panic rose sharply in her chest.

Slowly, she pulled the duvet closer and glanced down. Her breath caught.

She was naked.

Her eyes widened as terrifying possibilities slammed into her thoughts. No… please, no.

Praying she was wrong, she turned her head to the side.

A man lay beside her.

Her chest tightened painfully.

It was too dark to see his face, but his presence alone sent her heart into a frantic race. Her head throbbed as she hurriedly slipped out of bed, gathering her clothes with trembling hands. Her body ached, but fear drowned out the discomfort.

How had she ended up here?

The last thing she remembered was having a drink with her husband.

Kennedy Lice—Ken, as she affectionately called him—had taken her to a bar to celebrate his appointment as CEO of Power Group. She had refused alcohol at first, but Ken had insisted. One sip. Then another. And another.

Until the glass was empty.

Ken had excused himself to use the restroom.

And that was it.

Everything after that was a blur.

Tears burned her eyes as Lovett stole one last glance at the sleeping man before quietly slipping out of the room.

What had she done?

How could she explain this—to anyone? Who would believe that she hadn’t meant to betray her husband?

As she made her way to the hotel’s bar area, she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. Her hair was a mess, but she didn’t care.

All she wanted was to find her hu—

“Please,” she said shakily to a waitress, “have you seen my husband?”

The waitress studied her, recognition dawning, then smiled politely.

Hadn’t this woman been here earlier? She’d thought the couple had already left.

“Yes,” the waitress replied. “You left with him earlier. He paid the bill and went out looking for you. He thought you’d gone to wait in the car, so he left.”

Lovett’s heart dropped.

“Oh,” she whispered, forcing a weak smile.

She thanked the waitress and stepped out of the hotel.

It was nearly two in the morning. The road was quiet, empty. No taxis in sight. After walking for a long while, she finally managed to flag one down.

The moment the car pulled away, Lovett broke down, sobbing openly, uncaring of the driver beside her.

When they arrived at her home, she wiped her swollen face and paid him.

Before driving off, the man said gently, “It’ll be alright, ma’am. Whatever you’re going through—it’s just a phase. It will pass.”

Lovett stood frozen as the taxi disappeared.

Pass? Her lips trembled. This wasn’t something that could simply pass.

Ken was a good man. A loving husband.

How could she ever tell him she had betrayed him?

She thought of calling her sister, Ashley—but how could she explain this? Ashley would be disappointed. Her mother would be devastated.

After standing in the cold for nearly thirty minutes, Lovett finally forced herself inside.

She unlocked the door with her fingerprint and stepped in quietly, closing it behind her.

Ken might still be awake, worried about her. Her phone battery was dead.

With every step toward the master bedroom, her heart pounded harder.

She had to face it. Whatever awaited her.

Taking a deep breath, she reached for the doorknob—

“I told you it would work,” a man’s hearty laughter echoed from inside. “She’s probably still getting pounded by the gigolo. I paid him well.”

Lovett froze.

Her hand slowly dropped away from the door as her brows knitted together.

The world tilted.