CHAPTER 10 — Tangled Loyalties

POV: Claire

The apartment was quiet, deceptively quiet. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant horn from the street below made me flinch. I hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning, replaying last night over and over like a loop I couldn’t escape. My body still buzzed from him—the memory of Ryan Hale’s hands, his lips, the way he’d claimed me as though I belonged to him.

And I hated myself for wanting it again.

I tried to busy myself. Dishes, laundry, organizing papers—but my thoughts were relentless. Every time my phone buzzed, I flinched, hoping it wouldn’t be him. And every time it wasn’t, relief was brief and hollow.

Sophie called mid-morning, cheerful as always, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. “Mom, could you please grab a few items for tomorrow’s dinner?

And, oh, Ryan’s around. He said he might stop by your place later.”

I froze. My pulse quickened. Ryan. Stop by. How much longer could I keep this fragile balance? I swallowed hard and forced a light laugh. “Sure, Sophie. I’ll get it done.”

As soon as I hung up, a wave of nausea hit me. Just a minor wave, barely noticeable, but enough to make me pause and grip the counter. No, don’t start now. Don’t let it be… The thought terrified me, and I shoved it down, forcing myself to focus on mundane tasks.

Hours later, the knock came at my door, and my chest leapt into my throat. I opened it, and there he was—Ryan, impossibly perfect, impossibly dangerous, his dark eyes fixed on mine with that same smoldering intensity that had haunted my nights.

“Claire…” His voice was low, husky. The air between us seemed to hum.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he interrupted, stepping inside. His presence filled the room, pressing into me with an invisible weight. I wanted to retreat, to shut the door, to hide from the heat radiating from him—but my body betrayed me, leaning closer despite every rational thought screaming at me to run.

POV: Ryan

Every moment away from her felt like an eternity. Seeing her again, in the soft light of her apartment, her hair loose, sweater slipping off one shoulder, bare feet against the floor—it was a sight I should have resisted. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I reached for her, hands brushing hers, fingers tangling as she didn’t pull away. “You’re… still trembling,” I murmured, voice low, more observant than necessary.

“Because you’re here,” she whispered, voice barely audible, a mixture of guilt and want.

And that was all I needed. I drew her into my arms, kissing her softly at first, tasting her, memorizing her again. Every movement was careful, yet reckless. She pressed closer, and my hands roamed, exploring the curves I couldn’t forget.

Time didn’t exist. There was only us, stolen moments in a borrowed afternoon, in a quiet apartment where walls could not contain the tension between us.

POV: Claire

We broke apart briefly, breathless, foreheads resting together. “Ryan… this is dangerous,” I whispered, guilt slicing through desire.

“I know,” he murmured, thumb stroking my cheek. “But it doesn’t matter. I can’t… not want you.”

My heart thudded painfully in my chest. He wanted me too. And worse, I wanted him even more. The world outside—the dinners with Sophie, the polite interactions, the threat of Margaret’s scrutiny—faded into irrelevance.

Later, Sophia joined us. I was in the kitchen while Sophie was on a quick call, our hands brushed as we reached for the same cup. A spark ignited instantly, making my stomach flutter and my pulse spike. The tension between us was unbearable, electric, and forbidden.

POV: Ryan

I watched her from across the room, pretending to examine a wine bottle as she stirred the sauce on the stove. Every slight movement, every curve, every hesitant glance in my direction was a reminder of what we’d done and what we were risking. My control was razor-thin. Every second spent apart was a second of torture.

And then I noticed the subtle way she held her stomach, the tiny wince she barely tried to hide. My chest tightened. Could it be? I pushed the thought away, focusing on keeping calm, pretending nothing had shifted. But a part of me already feared the answer.

POV: Claire

The following days were a blur. Each encounter with Ryan was electric yet terrifying. I had gone back to their penthouse. Hallways, kitchens, we stole glances, brief touches, fleeting kisses that left me dizzy and craving more. The guilt weighed heavily on me, a constant shadow reminding me that I was betraying Sophie, my daughter, and myself.

And still, desire burned hotter than shame. Every whispered word, every lingering touch, every breath of his presence made me forget reason entirely.

I noticed other subtle changes in myself—the faint waves of nausea, the fleeting moments of fatigue that couldn’t be explained away. I shoved them aside, unwilling to face the terrifying possibility that my night with Ryan had consequences far beyond my control.

POV: Ryan

I sensed her distance, her hesitation, and it gnawed at me. Every time I looked at her, I saw fear, longing, guilt, and something else—something raw and terrifying. I wanted to protect her, to possess her, to undo the world and leave only the two of us.

But the stakes were higher now. Sophie. Margaret. The entire world could crumble if we weren’t careful. And yet, the thought of leaving her behind was unbearable. I had already tasted the fire between us; nothing could cool it, nothing could erase it.

POV: Claire

That night, My body remembered him as if the night had never ended. My heart ached with desire and guilt in equal measure. The possibility that I might be pregnant hovered in the back of my mind, a tiny, frightening spark of reality.

I whispered his name into the dark. “Ryan…”

And I knew, even then, that our tangled loyalties were far from untangling.