Chapter thirteen

Lila’s POV

The soft glow of my bedside lamp cast a warm, golden light across my small bedroom. Clothes were scattered on the floor—my sundress from earlier, a lace bra hanging off the chair, and the black heels I had worn to the club two nights ago. I sat cross-legged on my unmade bed, wearing only an oversized t-shirt, slowly brushing out my damp hair after a long shower. The scent of my coconut shampoo lingered in the air, mixing with the faint vanilla candle I had lit on the nightstand. My body still hummed from the night before. Marcus. The way he had looked at me when he said my real name. The deep, possessive way he moved inside me. I could still feel the ghost of his hands on my hips, the stretch of him filling me completely, the heat of his release. I shivered and pulled the brush through my hair a little harder, trying to focus on the present.

Tomorrow night’s dinner at Evelyn’s house loomed over me like a storm cloud. Just the three of us sisters. No parents. No Marcus—at least, not officially. The thought of sitting across from Evelyn, knowing I had slept with her husband, made my stomach twist into knots. I set the brush down and picked up my phone. A new message from Marcus waited for me.

Marcus: Thinking about you. Can’t wait to see you again soon.

I stared at the words, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to reply immediately, to tell him how much I craved his touch again. The other part—the loyal little sister part—wanted to delete his number and pretend none of this ever happened. Instead, I typed back a simple Me too, then locked the phone and tossed it onto the pillow beside me. I stood up and walked to the full-length mirror on the back of my closet door. The girl staring back at me looked tired but beautiful. Long dark hair still slightly damp, full lips, curves that earned me good money at the club. I lifted the hem of the t-shirt, studying the faint bruises on my hips. Marks from Marcus’s fingers. Evidence of what I had done. A deep sigh escaped me as I let the shirt fall back down. I needed to prepare for tomorrow. Not just emotionally, but practically. I went to my small closet and pulled out a few outfit options, laying them on the bed. A soft cream sweater and jeans. A modest floral dress. Something that said “good little sister” instead of “woman who strips and sleeps with married men for money and pleasure.”

As I tried on the sweater, my mind wandered back to the club. The money was still sitting in an envelope in my drawer—enough to cover rent and groceries for the next month. Dancing as Luna gave me freedom. Being with Marcus gave me something even more dangerous: feeling truly desired. But both lives were lies that could destroy everything if they collided. I changed into the floral dress and stood in front of the mirror again, turning slowly. It was pretty. Safe. The kind of thing Evelyn would approve of. I practiced a smile—bright, innocent, the one I used at family gatherings. It felt fake even to me. My phone buzzed again. This time it was Claire.

Claire: Can’t wait for dinner tomorrow. You okay after our talk?

I smiled genuinely for the first time in hours. Claire had always been the one I could talk to most freely, even if I couldn’t tell her everything.

Lila: I’m okay. A little nervous about everything, but I’ll be there. Love you.

I set the phone down and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The fan spun slowly overhead, stirring the warm air. My hand drifted down to rest on my lower belly. I wasn’t late yet, but the worry was there in the back of my mind. One careless night with a man whose last name I now knew too well. The thought made my chest tighten. I got up and went to the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water. The apartment was quiet except for the distant sound of traffic outside. I leaned against the counter, sipping slowly, letting the cool liquid ground me. Tomorrow I would sit at Evelyn’s beautiful table, eat food she prepared with love, and pretend I hadn’t betrayed her in the worst way possible. Guilt gnawed at me. Evelyn had always been the protector—the one who helped me with homework, defended me when Mom was too strict, celebrated every small achievement. And here I was, sleeping with her husband. The man who was supposed to be off-limits in every possible way. But when I closed my eyes, I could still hear Marcus’s low groan as he came inside me. Feel the way he kissed me like he couldn’t get enough. No one had ever made me feel that wanted, that alive. I finished the water and returned to the bedroom. I tried on the cream sweater and jeans combination next. It felt more casual, more like me. I practiced sitting poses in front of the mirror, imagining the dinner conversation.

      “How’s the new boyfriend?” Evelyn would probably ask with that warm, curious smile.

I would have to lie. Smile and say he was fine. Change the subject. Hide the fact that the man I was seeing was her own husband. The weight of it pressed down on me until I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I sat on the edge of the bed, hugging my knees to my chest. The sweater felt soft and comforting against my skin, but it didn’t ease the storm inside. I stayed like that for a long time, rocking slightly, letting the emotions wash over me. Fear, guilt, excitement, shame and desire. They all tangled together until I couldn’t separate them anymore. Eventually, I stood up and hung the clothes back in the closet. I needed rest. Tomorrow would require every ounce of strength I had. Before climbing into bed, I picked up my phone one more time. Marcus had sent another message.

Marcus: Sweet dreams, Lila. Think of me.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I turned off the lamp and slipped under the covers. The sheets were cool against my legs. I curled onto my side, hugging a pillow tightly to my chest. Sleep came slowly, filled with fragmented dreams of velvet suites, family dinner tables, and Marcus’s eyes watching me from across the room—knowing, hungry, and completely unafraid of the destruction we were causing.