4. Do you remember me?

My eyes meet Elias, and it’s so fucking annoying that I can’t tell what’s going on in his mind.

I sigh and grab Gemma’s wrist. “ Okay Uncle, we’ll leave you all to talk. Come on.”

As we head back down the hallway, my heart is pounding.

The moment we’re out of earshot, I hiss, “Gemma.”

She glances at me. “What? He’s gorgeous, I know. Girl it’s going to be a temptatious six months— “

“That’s him.”

She stops. “Who?”

“The guy from last night.”

She blinks. “What guy?”

“The one you dared me to kiss.”

Her eyes widen. “Wait. Him?”

“Yes.”

She stares at me, then back toward the sitting room. “I didn’t even recognize him.”

“That’s because you weren’t kissing him.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it. “Oh my God.”

“I’m not saying anything,” I add quickly. “You don’t remember his face, and I’m keeping it that way.”

“Simone—”

“I mean it.”

She hesitates, then nods slowly. “Okay. Your secret.”

****

I should be sleeping, but sleeping is so hard tonight. I want answers so badly. What that man was doing in a club and why he let us do what we did.

I sigh as I get up to grab my sleeping pill and leave my room to get water. As I step into the kitchen, the silhouette of a man leaning against the counter, sleeves rolled up, glasses perched low on his nose as he reads something on his phone greets me.

Elias looks up, I can feel his eyes on me as I walk towards the plate rack to grab a cup.

The silence stretches, I couldn’t hold it anymore as I turn towards him, gripping the cup hard that it might break.

“Do you remember me?” I ask quietly.

His expression doesn’t change. “I’m sorry?”

“The club,” I say. “Last night.”

A pause.

Then he shakes his head slowly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re serious?”

“I’ve never seen you before today,” he replies calmly. “You must be mistaken.”

I laugh softly, disbelieving. “Wow.”

He meets my gaze, “I think it would be best if you don’t say things like that.”

My grip on the cup tightens until my knuckles are white. Is he serious? Is he really going to pretend? The audacity of this man, standing there, acting innocent after what we did.m

“I shouldn’t say things like that?” I echo, my voice barely a whisper, laced with annoyance . “You think I can just forget everything just like that?”

His eyes, which had been cool and detached, flicker.

“Simone,” he says, his voice deeper now, a low rumble that vibrates through the silent kitchen and straight into my bones.

He still won’t look directly at me, his gaze fixed somewhere just past my shoulder. “You’re mistaken. I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Don’t you?” I step closer, putting the cup down with a soft clink on the counter, needing my hands free.

The air between us crackles, thick with unspoken memories and the lie he’s trying to sell.

“Because I remember every single detail. The way you fucked me against the wall, the way your fingers tangled in my hair when you kissed me like you were starving.”

His head snaps towards me then, his dark eyes finally meeting mine.

There’s a raw, almost desperate hunger in them that he tries to mask instantly, but I’ve seen it. I know it. It’s the same hunger that was in them last night.

“You’re imagining things,” he says, his voice strained, as he pushes himself off the counter, leaning close.

I can smell his clean, masculine scent, mixed with something subtly earthy, like old books and fresh rain. It’s intoxicating.

“Am I?” I challenge, my gaze dropping to his mouth, remembering the curve of his lips, the way they moved against mine. A shiver runs down my spine, entirely unwelcome, entirely undeniable. “Because it felt pretty real to me.”

He takes another step towards me, and I don’t back away. My heart is beating so fast against my ribs. He’s towering over me now, the light catching the sharp line of his jaw, the slight stubble that wasn’t there last night.

My eyes trace the strong column of his throat, remembering the way I’d pressed my cheek there, feeling the pulse thrumming under my ear.

“You should go back to bed, Simone,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper.

“Or what?” I breathe, my own voice just as soft.

I lift my hand, my fingers itching to trace the line of his jaw, to prove to myself that he’s real, that this is real. But I stop myself, letting my hand hover tantalizingly close to his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

“Can you pretend forever, because you can’t keep lying about not knowing me while we live under the same roof. I know who I saw, yesterday was too memorable to forget. That was the best sex of my life Elias, I can’t forget something that good.

I can sound shameless, but I know I’m not delusional.

His eyes drop to my lips, lingering there for a fraction of a second too long. I see the battle raging behind his composed facade. For a moment, the air is so thick with unspoken desire, I feel like I might suffocate.

Then, he takes a slow step back, breaking the spell. His face is once again a mask of cool detachment, though I can still his hand trembling faintly as he reaches for his phone on the counter.

“Goodnight, Simone,” he says, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. He doesn’t look at me as he walks past, the scent of him lingering in the air.

I stand there, alone in the sudden silence, my body humming with a frustrated, furious energy. He wants to forget? Fine. But I won't. And I have a feeling, despite his perfect performance, that neither will he.