I couldn’t think.
Not after that.
Not after Killian Wolfe.
I stood in front of the room mirror, makeup smudged, neck kissed raw, thighs aching with the memory of him, and my own shame. My dress was crumpled on the chair. My panties torn. And in my purse sat the engagement ring Victor had slipped onto my finger just days ago.
I stared at it like it might vanish if I blinked.
It didn’t.
And I didn’t cry.
I just breathed.
In. Out.
Ivy Lancaster. Fiancée to Victor Wolfe. Future wife to a man I barely liked, let alone loved.
And I’d just let his older brother do unspeakable things to me against a leather couch in a room I shouldn’t have entered.
What kind of woman does that?
The kind who’s drowning.
The kind who mistakes lust for escape.
The kind who doesn’t realize the devil wears her fiancé’s last name.
Killian was already gone. No words. He just left. Just a memory of heat and hunger that hadn’t faded from my skin. I should’ve been relieved. I should’ve taken the shame and shoved it down deep.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about his mouth.
His hands.
The way he looked at me like I belonged to him, before he knew I already belonged to someone else.
I took the longest shower of my life.
Still didn’t feel clean.
The engagement dinner was set for eight. I had less than an hour to put on the face of the perfect fiancée. The obedient daughter. A perfect act that Victor wouldn’t suspect a thing.
And Killian… maybe he wouldn’t say a word.
Maybe we could both pretend.
I arrived at the estate a little after seven. Had to rush back to my apartment, change into the dress I picked out a week earlier.
My mother beamed like I was walking toward a future, not a trap. My father didn’t even look up from his drink. And Victor, beautiful, boring Victor, kissed my cheek with the same cold distance he always did.
But then I saw him.
Killian.
Standing across the room, tall and unreadable in a tailored black suit. The same eyes. The same lips. The same man who’d had me screaming his name just an hour ago.
And now he stood beside his brother.
My fiancé.
His jaw tightened the second our eyes met. His gaze dropped to my neck. To the faint bruises he left behind. Then rose again with fire.
He looked angry.
Like I was the one who’d done something wrong.
I tore my eyes away.
“I’ve missed you,” Victor said, sliding an arm around my waist.
I forced a smile. “I’ve missed you too.”
Lie.
Victor was safe. Predictable. Powerful in the way all Wolfe men were. But he didn’t make my blood boil. He didn’t make me ache. He didn’t make me forget my own name.
Killian did.
Dinner was a blur.
Laughter. Wine. Empty conversation.
I barely touched my food. Killian didn’t touch his drink.
But he touched me, with his eyes. Every chance he got.
Under the table, Victor’s hand was on my thigh.
Across the table, Killian’s stare was on my lips.
It was poison.
And I drank it.
“You alright?” Victor asked, brushing his thumb across my knuckles.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Lie number two.
I excused myself to the bathroom halfway through dessert. Needed space. Air. A minute to breathe before I drowned.
But the second I stepped into the hallway, a hand grabbed my wrist.
Pulled me.
Shoved me into a side room.
The door slammed shut behind me.
It was him.
Killian.
His face was stone. His voice a blade. “What the fuck was that?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re engaged to my fucking brother,” he growled. “And you didn’t think to mention that before I had you screaming under me an hour ago?”
“I didn’t know who you were!” I snapped. “You think I would’ve gone anywhere near you if I did?”
He stepped closer.
Too close.
“Then why didn’t you stop me?”
“I didn’t know until after,” I whispered. “Neither did you.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
“You looked me in the eye and begged me to fuck you,” he said, voice like gravel. “And I did. Hard. Deep. You let me ruin you.”
I slapped him.
He caught my wrist before I could pull away.
“You don’t get to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I’m not pretending,” I hissed. “I’m regretting it.”
His expression darkened. “Then why do you look at me like you want me to do it again?”
My heart thundered.
My body betrayed me.
Because he was right.
Because I did.
“You’re marrying my brother,” he said lowly, voice thick with something that wasn’t anger this time.
It was hunger.
Possession.
Something dangerous.
I pulled my wrist free, breathing hard. “It was a mistake.”
“No,” he murmured, stepping even closer until my back hit the wall. “It was the beginning.”
I froze.
“What?”
He leaned in. Breath brushing my ear.
“I don’t share, Ivy. And now that I’ve had you, once isn’t fucking enough.”
The knock came again. Sharper this time.I didn’t answer right away. I just stared at the woman I’d drawn, the one whose face I’d left in shadows, as if I could climb into her skin and disappear.The door creaked open slowly. Same maid. But this time, her face was tense, pale, eyes flickering down the hallway behind her before meeting mine.“Miss Lancaster,” she said quietly, “your father asked me to remind you that you’re expected tonight.”You’re expected. A phrase that could mean a hundred things. All of them dangerous.The words were careful. Polished. But her tone wasn’t. There was a warning in it. A quiet echo of power I’d learned to fear in childhood, like the sound of glass cracking under pressure.I swallowed hard. “He sent you?”She nodded once. “He said… it would be unfortunate if you embarrassed the family.”There it was.I stood, numb, brushing my hands on the side of my pants. Charcoal smeared across my fingers like guilt.“Tell him I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”The
I couldn’t sleep.I lay awake in my room, eyes fixed on the ceiling, Andrew’s words spinning in my head like a sick melody on repeat.Strippers. Scandals. Wicked bachelor.I wasn’t naïve. The way Killian Wolfe made my body vibrate, twice, in less than twenty-four hours, told me everything I needed to know about the kind of man he was. Even the way he kissed had warned me. He’d touched women before. Many, probably.But hearing it out loud, from someone else’s mouth, stripped the fantasy clean. It left me raw with the truth.And still,I craved him.God, I was such a fool.I slipped out of bed, pulling on a sweater over my camisole. My feet moved on instinct, guiding me down the quiet hallway. I eased the door open to the one place in this house where I was allowed to be myself: the art room.It wasn’t the chaotic, lived-in space I’d had in university, where spilled turpentine mingled with cold coffee, canvases leaned against the walls like forgotten dreams, and freedom dripped from ever
Victor finally left, and for the first time in hours, I could breathe, a real, deep breath.Andrew must have seen the relief wash over my face because he chuckled under his breath, like he knew I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.I tried to smile, but the truth was, I wasn’t entirely okay. I was still a little pissed that Killian had left without a proper goodbye, and the bitterness of it soured my mood in a way I hated to admit.I followed Andrew back to his suite, watching him unpack while my mind wandered places it shouldn’t, places that smelled like leather, whiskey, and forbidden touches.It was just lust.Just reckless desire.At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.“You know,” Andrew said casually, tossing a shirt onto the bed, “if I didn’t know you better, I’d swear there’s something you’re not telling me about Victor’s brother and you.”I froze for a fraction of a second.Then I forced a laugh, too loud, too fake.“Ooh, no,” I said, waving my hand. “W
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl who looked back at me.My eyes were swollen, my hair tangled from his hands, and my skin still burned from where he had touched me.I could still taste him.Still feel the imprint of his body against mine.The scent of him clung to my skin, no matter how many times I tried to scrub it away.Killian.I whispered his name like a sin on my tongue, shame tightening my chest.Twice, I had given myself to him.Twice, I had crossed a line I could never uncross.And now, I was drowning in it.A shudder tore through me as I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold in the guilt, the shame… and the aching need that hadn’t faded.I should hate him.I should hate myself more.But when I closed my eyes, all I could feel was him, the way his hands gripped my hips, the way his mouth devoured mine like I was the only thing keeping him alive.I pressed my forehead against the cool mirror, breathing heavily.Soon, Victor would com
I barely made it back to the room before I slammed the door behind me, the quiet click of the lock echoing in the stillness.My chest heaved, lungs burning as I leaned against the door, trying to regain control.But it was harder than I thought. Far harder.Every breath was a reminder of what I had just done, what I had let happen.I ran a hand through my hair, pushing back the tangled mess of emotions threatening to consume me. But no matter how many times I tried to shake it off, one thought kept forcing its way into my mind.Ivy.Goddamn Ivy.I knew I was spinning the moment I stepped off that private jet. I knew I was losing control.But I never thought I would lose this much.Sleeping with Victor’s fiancée.Twice.I couldn’t get her out of my head, the feel of her body crushed against mine, the heat of her skin, the desperate way she kissed me back.And that look in her eyes… raw, uncertain, but filled with unmistakable want.She wasn’t just some conquest. She was something else.
It was a deadly game we played, but I couldn’t stop. Every rational thought in my mind was drowned out by the pounding in my chest, the fire licking at my veins. Ivy was in my arms again, her body pressed against mine, and all I could think about was how badly I needed her, needed this.My hands were desperate, as though they didn’t belong to me, sliding beneath her dress, lifting it higher, feeling the heat of her skin as I drew her closer. She gasped against my mouth as I pulled her against me, and I swallowed the sound greedily. I couldn’t get enough of her, her scent, her touch, her warmth. Everything about her set my blood on fire.“You don’t have to say no, Ivy,” I murmured against her neck, my lips trailing down to her pulse. “Not now, not when it’s too late.”Her breath hitched as I pushed her gently against the stone wall, my hands exploring the curves of her body, feeling the tension in her muscles. She was trembling, but not from fear. No, this was different. This was desir
Victor’s arm was heavy around me, an anchor I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to. His breath was steady, calm, completely unaware of the storm raging inside me.But I couldn’t pretend any longer. Not with the raw memory of Killian still searing in my mind, burning into my skin.I lay still, my body betraying me, aching for something that had no place in my life. Not when I was supposed to be Victor’s.But everything about tonight felt like a lie. From the engagement ring on my finger to the gentle press of Victor’s lips on my shoulder, nothing felt right.And then I remembered Killian. His face. His eyes dark with desire. His mouth. God, his mouth.I felt the heat rush through my body again, as though I could still feel the press of his lips, the fierce grip of his hands, the savage way he’d taken me.I needed to stop thinking about him.But the more I tried, the more my body betrayed me. The pulse between my legs throbbed, reminding me of what I’d lost control of. What I’d given con
I couldn’t think.Not after that.Not after Killian Wolfe.I stood in front of the room mirror, makeup smudged, neck kissed raw, thighs aching with the memory of him, and my own shame. My dress was crumpled on the chair. My panties torn. And in my purse sat the engagement ring Victor had slipped onto my finger just days ago.I stared at it like it might vanish if I blinked.It didn’t.And I didn’t cry.I just breathed.In. Out.Ivy Lancaster. Fiancée to Victor Wolfe. Future wife to a man I barely liked, let alone loved.And I’d just let his older brother do unspeakable things to me against a leather couch in a room I shouldn’t have entered.What kind of woman does that?The kind who’s drowning.The kind who mistakes lust for escape.The kind who doesn’t realize the devil wears her fiancé’s last name.Killian was already gone. No words. He just left. Just a memory of heat and hunger that hadn’t faded from my skin. I should’ve been relieved. I should’ve taken the shame and shoved it dow
The champagne burned sweeter than it should’ve.I tipped the glass back anyway, letting it wash over the taste of the lie on my lips and the ache in my chest. I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not in this club. Not in this dress. And definitely not in his world.But the thing about wanting to forget, you’ll do anything to lose yourself. Tonight , I needed to forget.Forget who I was.Forget who I belonged to.Forget the name of the man I’d been promised to marry.The club pulsed around me, dark and dripping with desire. Bodies pressed, moaned, moved. I needed air. Space. Anything but this suffocating cage of glitter and heat.I wandered down a hallway that was quieter, less crowded. Red velvet walls. Gilded doors. A hallway that whispered secrets with every step I took. My heels echoed until I found a door that was half-open, light spilling out like temptation.I didn’t knock. I just stepped inside.He was there.Alone.Leaning back in a black leather armchair like he owned the air aroun