Chapter 4: The Lie That Started the War

The coffee tastes like cardboard.

I’m sitting in Lucian’s kitchen, on his barstool, drinking his terrible coffee because leaving felt impossible and staying feels worse.

We made it fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes of me in the service elevator, him probably back in bed, both of us pretending the agreement would hold.

Then I realized I left my phone charger. Plugged into his wall. Next to his bed.

I came back.

He opened the door before I could knock.

Now we’re here. In his kitchen that’s bigger than my entire apartment. Drinking coffee that costs more than my car payment and tastes like regret.

“We can’t do this again,” I say.

“Agreed.”

“I mean it. This was, it was a mistake.”

“I know.” He’s leaning against the counter across from me. Still shirtless. Still devastating. He hasn’t looked at me directly since I came back.

“A huge mistake.”

“You’ve said that. Three times now.”

“Because it’s true.” I wrap both hands around the mug. It’s warm. Solid. Real. “You’re his best friend.”

“I’m aware.”

“He trusts you.”

Lucian’s jaw tightens. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t make this about trust. He cheated on you. In your bed. With a woman he’s apparently wanted for months.” His voice is sharp. Controlled anger. “Where was his trust?”

“That doesn’t make what we did okay.”

“I didn’t say it did.” He finally looks at me. Those dark eyes that pulled me under last night now cold. Distant. “But don’t pretend he’s the victim here.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“And you were his girlfriend.” Lucian pushes off the counter. Paces. “Which makes this, what we did, it makes it—”

“Wrong.”

“Complicated.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“It’s really not.” He stops at the window. Stares out at the city below. “Wrong implies we had a choice. We didn’t.”

“Of course we had a choice. We could’ve walked away. You could’ve not bought me that drink. I could’ve gone home.”

“Could you?” He turns. “Really? After what you saw? After what he said about you?”

Boring. The word echoes. Always tired. Not like Vanessa.

My coffee’s getting cold. I drink it anyway.

“That’s not the point,” I say.

“Then what is?”

“The point is we can’t tell him. Ever.” I set the mug down. “He can never know about this.”

“I already promised you that.”

“And you’ll keep it? Even if he asks? Even if he suspects?”

“Why would he suspect?” Lucian’s laugh is bitter. “He doesn’t even know you were at a hotel last night. Probably thinks you went to your friend’s place. Cried. Ate ice cream. Whatever people do.”

“Sophia’s place. He’ll assume I went to Sophia’s.”

“There you go. Perfect alibi.” He crosses to the coffee maker. Pours himself another cup. “We stick to it. You went to your friend’s. I was here. Alone. Working. Like always.”

“Working.”

“It’s what I do when I can’t sleep.” He takes a sip. Grimaces. “This coffee is shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I keep meaning to get a better machine.”

We’re talking about coffee. Like that matters. Like we didn’t just blow up both our lives.

My phone buzzes. I don’t check it. Don’t need to.

“He’s going to want to talk,” I say. “Eventually. When I stop ignoring him.”

“Will you? Stop ignoring him?”

“I have to face him sometime.” The thought makes my stomach turn. “I work with people who know him. I have things at his place. My toothbrush. My favorite sweater.”

“Send your friend. This Sophia.”

“And tell her what? That I’m too much of a coward to get my own stuff?”

“You’re not a coward.” Lucian’s voice softens. Dangerous. “You’re smart. There’s a difference.”

“Smart people don’t sleep with strangers in hotel bars.”

“Smart people do whatever it takes to survive.” He moves closer. Not touching. Just close. “You survived last night. That’s what matters.”

“By creating a bigger mess.”

“Maybe.” He’s looking at me like he did last night. Like I’m something worth studying. “Or maybe you just, shifted the mess. Gave yourself something else to think about besides him.”

“That’s a terrible coping mechanism.”

“Never said it was good. Just said it worked.”

His phone rings. We both tense.

He checks the screen. Exhales. “Marcus. My business partner.”

“Answer it.”

“He can wait.”

“Lucian. Answer it.” I need space. Air. Distance from those eyes that see too much.

He swipes to answer. “Yeah. No, I’m home. Working. Why?” A pause. His expression shifts. “When? Who told you?” Another pause. Longer. His eyes cut to me. “I’ll handle it. No, don’t call him back. I said I’ll handle it.”

He ends the call.

“What?” I ask.

“Someone saw us. Last night. At the hotel.”

My blood goes cold. “What do you mean someone saw us?”

“One of the staff. They, they might have recognized us both.” He’s pacing again. Faster now. “Marcus got a call. Discreet. A warning. Someone asking questions.”

“About what?”

“About whether Lucian Blackwood was at the Celestial Hotel last night with a woman who looked suspiciously like Ethan Cole’s girlfriend.”

The coffee threatens to come back up.

“Oh God.”

“It’s fine. Marcus shut it down. Paid them off. It’s handled.” But his voice says it’s not handled. Nothing about this is handled.

“Paid them off? You paid someone to keep quiet about us?”

“Would you prefer they post it on social media?” He stops. Looks at me. “This is what I do, Ariana. I fix problems. And right now, we’re a problem.”

“We’re a problem,” I repeat. The words taste wrong.

“A solvable one. As long as we stick to the story.” He’s all business now. Cold. The man I saw on those Forbes covers. “You were never here. I was never there. We never met. Simple.”

“Simple.”

“It has to be.”

I stand. Grab my charger from where it’s sitting on his counter. When did he get it? I didn’t even notice.

“I should go. For real this time.”

“Ariana.”

I stop. Hand on my purse.

“This stays between us,” he says. “No matter what. No matter who asks. No matter how bad it gets.”

“It’s not going to get bad. Because no one will know.”

“Right.”

But we both hear the lie.

I leave through the front door this time. Take the main elevator. Walk past the doorman who definitely saw me come in last night, wearing a different expression, heading in a different direction.

He nods politely. Says nothing.

I make it to my car before I realize what just happened.

Lucian Blackwood paid someone to keep me a secret.

Which means I’m already more than just a mistake.

I’m a liability.

And liabilities have a way of destroying everything they touch.

I drive home.

Delete seventeen new messages from Ethan.

And try to convince myself that the war hasn’t already begun.