Mistake

The next four days felt like living in slow motion.

Lia went through the motions of her daily life like she was watching someone else do it. She attended a luncheon with Margaret on Monday, smiling and nodding while the older woman complained about the caterer's incompetence. She had dinner with Julian on Tuesday, sitting across from each other in silence, eating expensive food that tasted like nothing.

He didn't ask where she was going or what she was doing. The open marriage agreement hung between them like a wall, keeping them further apart than ever.

Good. That made this easier.

Wednesday afternoon, Isla dragged her shopping.

"If you're doing this, you're doing it right," Isla insisted, pulling Lia into an upscale boutique downtown. "You need something that makes you feel beautiful. Confidence. Powerful."

Lia tried on dress after dress. Too conservative. Too flashy. Too much like something Margaret would approve of. Finally, she found it. A deep emerald silk dress that hugged her curves, with a neckline that was daring without being obvious. When she looked in the mirror, she almost didn't recognize herself.

She looked like the woman she used to be. Before Julian. Before the Whitmores. Before she learned to make herself smaller to fit into their world.

"That's the one," Isla said firmly. "You look amazing."

Lia bought the dress, along with new lingerie that made her blush just looking at it. Black lace, delicate and expensive. Not the practical cotton sets she usually wore. This was for her. For one night where she got to feel desired.

Thursday night, Julian didn't come home at all.

Lia lay in bed, staring at her phone. She could still cancel. Call the number, tell them she'd changed her mind, forget this whole crazy idea.

But then she thought about Julian with Vanessa. With all the others over the years. Coming home smelling like perfume, lying to her face, making her feel like she was losing her mind for noticing.

No. She wasn't canceling.

Friday morning arrived gray and cloudy, matching her mood. Lia spent the day in a fog of nervous energy. She couldn't eat. Couldn't focus on anything. Just kept checking the clock.

Three PM. Five hours until she had to leave.

Four PM. Four hours.

Julian came home around five, surprising her. He was usually gone by now on Friday nights.

"Going out tonight," he said, adjusting his tie in the hallway mirror. "Don't wait up."

Of course he was. Probably had plans with whatever woman he was seeing this week.

"I'm going out too," Lia said before she could stop herself.

Julian turned, eyebrows raised. "Really? Where?"

"Dinner with Isla." The lie came easily. Too easily. When had she become someone who lied so smoothly?

"Have fun." He grabbed his keys and left without a second glance.

She waited until his car pulled away before letting out the breath she'd been holding.

Six PM. Two hours.

Lia showered, taking her time, using the expensive body wash and lotion she usually saved for special occasions. Tonight counted as special, didn't it? She dried her hair until it fell in soft waves around her shoulders. Applied makeup more carefully than she had in years. The red lipstick again. Bold. Defiant.

The emerald dress slipped on like water, cool silk against her skin. She looked at herself in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back. She looked confident. Beautiful. Like someone who made her own choices.

Her hands were shaking when she picked up her purse. Inside was the credit card, her phone, and the hotel confirmation number the service had texted her.

The Azure Hotel. Penthouse suite. Eight PM.

She should feel guilty. Should feel wrong about what she was about to do. But all she felt was nervous anticipation and a strange sense of rightness. This was her choice. Finally, something that was entirely hers.

The drive downtown took thirty minutes through Friday evening traffic. Silvercrest was alive with people heading to restaurants and bars, living their normal lives. Lia felt separate from all of it, like she was in a bubble moving through a different world.

The Azure Hotel was exactly as fancy as she'd expected. All modern glass and steel, doormen in crisp uniforms, a lobby that screamed expensive. She'd been here before for various Whitmore events. Never imagined she'd be here for something like this.

The front desk clerk smiled professionally when she approached. "Checking in?"

"Yes. Reservation under Chen." She'd used her maiden name. Couldn't risk anyone recognizing Whitmore.

"Of course, Ms. Chen. Penthouse Suite A. You're all set." The clerk handed her a key card. "Top floor. Enjoy your stay."

Lia's heart hammered as she walked to the elevator. This was it. Last chance to turn back. She could go home, forget this whole thing, pretend she'd never made that phone call.

But she didn't want to pretend anymore.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt too fast. When the doors opened, Lia stepped into a quiet hallway. Plush carpet. Soft lighting. And two doors at opposite ends.

Penthouse Suite A and Penthouse Suite B.

She looked at the key card in her hand. Suite A. The one on the left.

But her nerves were so frayed, her hands shaking so badly, that she turned right instead. Toward Suite B. She didn't even realize her mistake. All she knew was that she needed to get inside before she lost her courage completely.

She swiped the card.

Nothing happened.

She tried again, hands trembling. Still nothing.

Of course. Wrong card for this door. She was about to turn around, figure out where she'd gone wrong, when the door suddenly opened from the inside.

A man stood there. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair slightly disheveled. He wore dress pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the top buttons undone. His eyes were stormy gray and unfocused, like he'd been drinking. He looked disoriented, maybe a little drunk, but still devastatingly handsome in a dangerous kind of way.

This had to be him. The escort. He must have let himself in already, waiting for her.

"You're here," he said, his voice rough and deep. He leaned against the doorframe like he needed the support.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Lia said quickly, nervousness making her words tumble out. "Traffic was bad and I got turned around in the hallway."

He stared at her for a long moment, something flickering in his expression she couldn't read. Confusion maybe. Or recognition. Then he stepped back. "Come in."

Lia walked past him into the suite. It was nearly identical to what she'd expected. Floor to ceiling windows, modern furniture, city lights twinkling below. But there was no champagne waiting. No romantic setup. Just a half-empty glass of whiskey on the coffee table and the man's jacket thrown over a chair.

Maybe escorts didn't set up the romantic details themselves. Maybe she was supposed to do that part.

"Would you like a drink?" the man asked, moving toward the bar with slightly unsteady steps.

"Sure. Whatever you're having."

He poured whiskey into two glasses, his movements careful like he was concentrating hard on a simple task. When he handed her the glass, their fingers brushed and she felt a jolt of electricity.

Up close, he was even more striking. Sharp jawline, a small scar near his left eyebrow, tattoos peeking out from under his rolled sleeves. He didn't look like what she'd imagined an escort would look like. He looked harder. More real. Like someone who'd lived a complicated life.

"I'm Lia," she said, taking a sip of whiskey for courage. It burned going down.

"Caspian," he replied, watching her with those intense gray eyes.

They stood there in awkward silence for a moment. Lia had no idea how these things were supposed to start. Was she supposed to just tell him what she wanted? Was there some protocol?

"I've never done this before," she admitted quietly.

Something shifted in his expression. "Done what?"

"This. Hired someone. I probably seem really nervous."

Caspian took a long drink of his whiskey, still watching her. "You seem fine."

But he seemed off. His eyes kept losing focus, and he swayed slightly when he moved. The service had said their escorts were professional. Was he drunk? Or high?

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You seem a little out of it."

"I'm fine." His words were slightly slurred. He sat down heavily on the couch, rubbing his face. "Just a long night."

Lia sat beside him, keeping some distance between them. This felt wrong somehow. Off. But she'd come this far. Paid all that money. And he was here, wasn't he? Waiting for her.

"Do you need a minute?" she asked. "We don't have to rush anything."

Caspian looked at her, really looked at her, and something vulnerable flashed across his face. "You're beautiful," he said simply.

The compliment caught her off guard. Made her blush. "Thank you."

"Why are you here?" he asked. "A woman like you. Why this?"

"Does it matter?"

"Maybe."

Lia took another sip of whiskey. "My husband wants an open marriage. So I'm giving him what he asked for."

Caspian's jaw tightened. "Husband's an idiot."

"Yes. He is."

They sat in silence, the tension building between them. Whatever drug or drink was affecting Caspian seemed to be wearing off slightly. His eyes were clearer now, more focused. More dangerous.

"So what do you want, Lia?" he asked, his voice dropping lower. "From tonight. From me."

"I want to feel something other than invisible," she whispered. "Just for one night. I want to matter to someone."

Something in his expression softened. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle. "You matter."

And somehow, the way he said it, she believed him.

Caspian leaned closer, and Lia's breath caught. This was happening. Really happening. Her heart raced as he cupped her face with one hand, thumb brushing her cheekbone.

"Last chance to change your mind," he murmured.

But Lia was done changing her mind. Done being careful and good and invisible.

She closed the distance between them and kissed him.