Chapter 4 Why Him

"Oh my god," Tina gasped, dropping beside me and grabbing my hand. "Babe, you HAVE to tell me—how was it? I've heard the guy's a legend in bed. Do you even KNOW how many girls in Montrelle would kill for one night with him?"

The sparkle in her eyes—full-on gossip mode—made my head throb.

She was the youngest Kennett, straight outta high society. Grew up on lockdown under her dad and two big brothers, then peaced out the second she could.

Which meant... she'd never tasted actual pain.

But that look? I couldn't resist. I bit my lip, dragging up last night's chaos.

"To be honest... not bad. I mean—he did make me pass out."

I trailed off.

Too late.

Tina's eyes lit up, practically screaming 'details.'

I cleared my throat. "I don't remember much."

Truth was, none of it mattered now. What mattered was if Lysandro would come after me.

If I could rewind, I'd stop at drink two.

But too late for that.

All I could do was pray he didn't remember me. Pray he wasn't the type to chase chaos.

Tina finally caught the nerves creeping in. She rubbed my back, all chill. "Don't stress. Lysandro goes through girls like Instagram stories—blink and they're gone. He probably doesn't even remember you."

"Seriously?" I asked, clinging to that sliver of hope.

She nodded, dead sure. "Totally. Ask your dad. Every rich family in Montrelle knows."

No way I was asking my dad—but still, I felt a tiny bit lighter.

If Lysandro forgot everything? That'd be the dream.

And yet... knowing I lost my virginity to that guy—a womanizer with a body count higher than his morals—made my stomach sink.

Tina did her best. Said he wouldn't come for me, trashed Luciano and Cecilia, swore they'd rot in hell.

We talked a little longer. She invited me to some winery party that night, but I passed.

All I wanted was to crash.

"I'm heading home, babe. Yoga's gonna have to wait."

My head was still chaos. I needed quiet to untangle it.

I went back to my tiny apartment, tried to read, played some music. When Monday hit, I threw myself into hospital life like nothing happened.

Over the next two days, Luciano kept blowing up my phone. At first, I just ignored him. Then I blocked him.

I wanted peace. Just silence.

That evening, I took my usual shortcut home—quiet, out of the way.

Then a tall figure stepped out from behind the corner, cutting me off.

I jumped, instinctively took two steps back.

Looked up—and froze.

Heart pounding. Limbs stuck.

No. Freaking. Way.

Why him?