Caught In The Act

Poppy's POV:

I wasn’t even sure how it started.

One message became two, then turned into hours-long chats. Voice notes. Photos. Dirty jokes.

His messages made every part of me heat up.

And the truth?

He thought I was experienced. A bad girl. The kind who knew what she was doing.

But that wasn’t me. Not really.

In real life, I was still a virgin. Still unsure. Still pretending.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand. I reached over, unplugged it from the charger, and looked at the screen.

“I want you to touch yourself. Right now."

I swallowed hard as my cheeks flushed.

It was him.

My fingers trembled slightly as I read the message again. He always knew exactly what to say.

Every time, he made me feel like I was someone else—bolder, freer, more desirable.

He’d been asking to call me for days, but I kept putting it off. I didn’t want him to hear the hesitation in my voice.

I didn’t want him to realize I wasn’t the girl I pretended to be.

“And send a voice message. I want to hear how I make you feel.”

Another message popped up.

I swallowed.

I shouldn’t have wanted this.

But I did.

And the wanting made me hate myself even more.

I pushed down my shorts and slipped out of my panties. My body moved faster than my thoughts.

My back still ached, but I lay down slowly, adjusting my pillows.

It felt like I was trying to prove something—to him, or maybe to myself.

I spread my legs slightly and brought my finger to my mouth, running it over my lips before sucking it gently—just like he’d told me.

I closed my eyes, started recording, and slid my finger down slowly.

God, I was already wet.

By the time I finished, I could barely breathe. I ended the voice note and pressed send.

Then I sucked the same finger, like he told me to. Like he said would drive him crazy.

A moment later, his reply buzzed in.

**“Show me that pretty kitty.”**

I smiled despite myself. I rolled over to grab the mirror from my nightstand. Just to check. Just to make sure I looked good enough for the camera.

But before I could position my phone, a scream pierced the air.

“Ahh!”

I jumped. My heart nearly burst out of my chest as I scrambled for the blanket and yanked it over myself.

Standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and horrified, was Carrie.

Her mouth was open in shock, her hand flying up to cover her face.

“What are you doing?!” she shrieked, turning away like she’d just walked in on a crime scene.

I couldn’t move. My whole face burned. My entire body locked up.

The look on her face didn’t help. She looked sick, like I’d done something vile and shameful and disgusting. She didn’t speak again. She just shook her head and fled the room.

And for a long time after she was gone, I just lay there.

My blanket pulled up to my chin. My phone still glowing with the last message.

I stared at the screen, wishing—praying—I could be someone else.

Anyone else.

I got up slowly and locked the door, though I knew a lock wouldn’t keep anyone out. But it gave me a few seconds to breathe. Sometimes that was enough.

I turned back to my room, everything that had just happened was still replaying in my head.

I sat on the floor and cried for exactly one minute. Because Penny and Laura might walk through that door and kill me for what I had done.

Any longer, and I wouldn’t be able to stop.

So I got up and changed into whatever I could find—black pants, a white button-down, and a vest I stole from the laundry room. It wasn’t my uniform, but it was close enough.

I was going.

They could tear up the real thing, Carrie could tell them about what I did, but they couldn’t stop me from showing up.

...

I didn’t have a ride, of course. Penny and Laura took the driver.

So I walked.

Two hours in the heat, carrying my worn-out shoes in one hand because the soles were coming off.

By the time I reached the Caelum estate, I was sweating and dusty, but I didn’t care.

I was here.

The mansion rose like something out of a dream. Tall stone towers. Windows that looked like eyes.

It was too grand. A castle that didn’t want anyone inside.

And yet...

It was full of music, lights, and laughter.

The engagement party had already started.

I showed up at the service entrance, head down. There were other workers rushing in and out—kitchen staff, servers, florists, security.

I slipped in behind a girl carrying two trays and made it through the hallway before anyone asked questions.

Then I saw Tanya. I’d shadowed her last month.

She spotted me instantly.

“You’re not on the list.”

“I—I was supposed to be,” I stammered. “Poppy Rhodes. I work part-time. They cut my uniform. I know how to serve. I can work.”

She looked me up and down. I knew what she saw—my too-big shirt, my cracked glasses, the faint shadow of a bruise on my neck.

“Do you even have a work permit?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

She didn’t believe me. But something in her face softened.

“I’ll have to ask the Raynes first,” Tanya said, stepping away from the entrance to call my stepmother.

My fingers tapped quickly against the counter in panic.

My heart thudded in my chest like it already knew what Laura would say.

She wouldn’t let me in. She had already made that painfully clear when she told me not to come near the party under any circumstance.

“Please, don’t call her,” I said softly, trying to meet Tanya’s eyes with the most pleading look I could manage. “Please.”

“It’s protocol to confirm with someone,” she said, clearly uncomfortable. “I have to ask at least one person.”

“Then call Mr. Rhodes instead,” I begged, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Please.”

Tanya paused, hesitating.

Then she gave a small nod and disappeared inside.

My breathing slowed just a little. Mr. Rhodes was my only chance.

He might get me in without Laura or Penny seeing me. Without them sending me away like I was some stray dog sniffing around the party.

Suddenly, a few gasps echoed through the hallway behind me.

I turned to look, following everyone’s gaze toward the balcony doors.

The Caelum brothers were walking in.

Even from across the room, I felt like the air had shifted.

The first one through the doors was tall, with skin that looked like it had soaked up the sun and hair trimmed so clean it made him look like a statue from a museum. His eyes scanned the room with quiet intensity, like he could see right through people.

The second one had messy brown curls that fell just above his eyes, and a sharp jawline that made half the maids go quiet just to stare. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, his posture loose and confident, like none of this was new to him.