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Like the first time we kissed, Lucas’s lips sent a rush through my entire being, blurring every emotion crowding my head. They washed away the doubts I had buried deep, until all that remained was the heady mix of our breaths in that passionate moment. He inhaled sharply as we pulled apart, only to let his lips trail down to my neck, hot and unrelenting. At twenty-five, I had never felt lips against my throat, had never known how such a simple touch could brand itself into memory. A moan climbed up my throat, but I bit my lip to stop it from spilling out. Then, without glancing at the untouched five-star meal on the table, he scooped me into his arms. He carried me to the couch, my hair fanning out against the cushions, and his mouth found mine again, hungry and consuming. Lucas’s kisses were hard to put into words. They were intense, like they carried both flavor and fire, as if he were trying to memorize the taste of me. And I kissed him back with the same urgency, giving in
My mind was a mess as I sat across from Lucas at the table. The Fosters had already done a great job screwing up my entire day, and to make things worse, fragmented memories from the previous night kept surfacing like unwelcome ghosts. I couldn’t remember everything, but the bits I did recall were enough to make me want to disappear into the floor. Lucas hadn’t said a word since we sat down. He just quietly sipped his coffee, his expression unreadable. Was he thinking about last night too? ‘Geez. No more tequila, mamacita. Ever again!’ He glanced up, his eyes meeting mine briefly, as if he sensed the storm in my head. He cleared his throat softly. “About last night—” “I’m really sorry!” I blurted out before he could continue. “I’m sorry for whatever I did last night. D-did I… do something crazy?” Lucas set his cup down and looked at me. The way he stared made me shiver, though I didn’t know why. “That depends,” he said slowly, “on what kind of answer you’re prepared to hear. I
I looked around, unsure where to even begin searching for Isla. “Mr. Westwood!” I turned as the hotel manager rushed over, catching me off guard. “The woman inside… she’s making a scene. She’s crying and asking for you.” My mind immediately went to Isla’s friend; perhaps something had happened. I asked, “You mean the woman I dropped off earlier?” “No, sir. This is someone entirely different. She claims you abandoned her.” A cold realization washed over me as I followed him through the marble corridors. The moment I stepped into the lounge, she was sitting on the carpet barefoot, her heels tossed aside, hair a little messy. A small group of hotel staff hovered around her in a loose semicircle, their faces torn between professional concern and quiet panic. “I’m with Lucas Westwood! Why are you hiding him from me?” Isla insisted. An elegantly dressed guest snapped, arms crossed, phone already in hand. “Call the police! Who even is this woman?” “No one calls anyone,” I said, my
“Listen, I can report you for harassment!” Isla snapped, her eyes slightly unfocused and her voice uneven. “See my friend? She’s a lawyer!” The man flicked his gaze to the woman beside Isla. “Lawyer, my ass. My boss is a big shot at Westwood Corporation. You’re not fooling anyone. You’re here trying to land a rich guy.” My expression darkened. I didn’t recognize the man, but I knew everyone who reported directly to me, and he definitely wasn’t one of them. The nerve of this man, throwing my company’s name around while insulting two women. “Westwood Corporation?” Isla shot back, though her movements remained unsteady. “Then I must know your boss, because Lucas Westwood is my boyfriend!” The man scoffed. “If Mr. Westwood is your boyfriend, then I must be his long-lost brother!” Most people in the company were aware of the romantic history I’d tried to keep quiet. They must’ve figured I wasn’t dating anyone, considering I practically lived at the office. Just then, another man
Lucas “Miss Foster went to their residence, then to the crematory, before returning to her own residence,” my assistant reported, standing at the edge of my desk with an iPad in hand. “What about her activities before today?” I asked. “She met with a woman, a corporate lawyer. It’s still unclear how long they’ve known each other, but records show they’ve met several times in the past. According to Miss Foster’s profile, that lawyer appears to be her only friend.” I let out a slow breath, guilt twisting in my chest. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did this morning. I let my emotions get the better of me. But I’ve been friends with Dante for over a decade and worked on multiple collaborations with Gianna. No matter how I feel about Isla… I can’t betray the people who’ve stood by me. The memory of betraying Maximus’s trust for Emma still haunted me. That one choice had opened the floodgates; nightmares that stole my sleep, anxiety that clung to me every damn day. I refused to re
Mr. Foster sounded utterly ridiculous. Had he said this before we discovered my mother’s illness, I might have been thrilled by his suggestion. As a girl who spent her life yearning for her father’s affection, that kind of offer would have meant the world to me. But now, I see right through him. “Isla, your dad is right... we’re family. Now that your mother’s gone, you’re more than welcome to live here. We’ll gladly accept you,” my stepmother said with a sweet, practiced smile. Unbelievable. The audacity was almost laughable. “Thank you for the offer,” I replied flatly, “but my answer is no.” I glanced at my twin. “We all know my sister and I have never gotten along.” “This woman! We’re offering you a place to stay, and this is how you act?” Elara snapped. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the main house. Just one conversation with them drained me more than an entire day at work. I hadn’t realized how exhausting it was to deal with these people. “Don’t bother comin