~ 4 ~

LILA'S POV

Three years ago

The neon lights of the city blurred past as we exited the club, my head still spinning—not from the alcohol, but from him.

Lucas’s hand was firm around mine, fingers laced in a way that felt possessive, unyielding. I tried to tug him toward the street, toward the cabs lined up along the curb, but he didn’t budge

Instead, he pulled me back.

"Lucas—"

"Not happening," he cut me off, his voice low, rough around the edges.

I barely had time to question him before he was leading me toward his car—a sleek black Maserati, understated but powerful, just like him. He opened the passenger door for me, waiting.

I hesitated.

Lucas had a way of making the world disappear, of turning rational thought into nothing more than background noise. And tonight, under the haze of city lights and the heat of his gaze, I was already in too deep.

With a sharp inhale, I slid inside.

The ride was quiet, save for the faint hum of the engine and the way my heartbeat pounded against my ribs.

Lucas drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. His fingers flexed slightly, as if he was holding back.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced at me, his steel-gray eyes darkening. "You trust me, don’t you?"

I did. That was the problem.

Before I could respond, the car rolled to a stop in front of a hotel. Not just any hotel—one of the city’s high-end boutique ones, known for its exclusivity. The kind of place where people like him belonged.

Lucas got out first, coming around to open my door. I stepped out, still caught between curiosity and the electric pull that always existed between us.

We walked through the entrance, past the extravagant lobby, and straight toward the elevators. Not once did he stop at the front desk.

It struck me then—he wasn’t checking in.

Frowning, I tugged at his arm. "Lucas, do you have a room here?"

His lips twitched into that infuriating smirk. "Does it matter?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Yes, it does. I’d rather not get arrested for trespassing."

Lucas chuckled, the sound vibrating through my chest. "Relax, sweetheart. There’s no harm in avoiding a little protocol."

I wanted to argue, but then the elevator doors slid open, and before I could step inside, his hands were on me.

His lips were at my neck, hot, unrelenting.

I gasped, my back pressing against the elevator wall as his mouth traced along my skin, teasing, tasting.

"Lucas," I whispered, my breath hitching.

"Mm?" His voice was muffled against my throat, his fingers sliding dangerously close to the hem of my dress.

I could barely think, barely stand. My hands gripped his jacket, grounding myself as his fingers trailed along my clothed thigh, setting fire to every nerve ending.

Then, with a soft ding, the elevator came to a stop.

Lucas pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto mine, dark, unreadable.

Without a word, he took my hand and led me out.

---

The suite was breathtaking.

Dim lighting, floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the city skyline, a space that was both luxurious and intimately designed.

But I barely had time to take it in because his lips were back on mine.

This kiss was different.

It wasn’t just hunger—it was something deeper. Something that made my fingers curl into his jacket, pulling him impossibly close.

Lucas groaned, breaking away just enough to rest his forehead against mine. His breath was warm, uneven.

Then he looked at me, really looked at me, and said,

"This is a silent promise of a long night."

And somehow, I knew—

This was more than just a night.

---

Rinnggg...

The alarm blared, dragging me from the depths of sleep. My hand shot out instinctively, smacking the snooze button with more force than necessary.

I groaned, blinking at the ceiling as the weight of morning settled over me. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the distant sounds of the city coming to life outside my window.

I turned my head to glance at the clock. 6:15 a.m.

Good. I had at least an hour before I needed to leave. The store officially opened at 8, but I could stroll in at 9 if I wanted. Perks of being the manager.

Still, the thought of work made my stomach twist, my mind flashing back to yesterday. squeezed my eyes shut, pushing the thought away. I had no time for that.

With a sigh, I forced myself out of bed and into the shower. The warm water helped loosen my tense muscles, but it did little to clear my thoughts. By the time I was dressed—neutral blouse, fitted pants, hair neatly pinned back—I felt collected enough to get through the day.

Breakfast was simple: coffee and toast. I wasn’t particularly hungry, but I needed something in my system. As I settled into my chair, my phone buzzed against the table.

Olivia.

I exhaled, already feeling a bit lighter as I answered. "Hey, Liv."

"Lila!" Her voice was bright, excited. "Guess who’s back in Vegas for a little while?"

I smiled. "No way. How long?"

"A few weeks, maybe longer. We need to catch up. Drinks, dinner, dancing—hell, maybe all three. What do you say this weekend?"

I hesitated. A night out felt... exhausting. But maybe I needed the distraction. Maybe I needed to remind myself of who I was before yesterday happened.

"Yeah," I finally said. "That sounds great."

"Perfect! I’ll text you the details later."

After we hung up, I stared at my half-eaten toast, my fingers absently tracing the rim of my coffee mug.

I didn’t let my mind wander.

I didn’t think about him.

I glanced at the time. 7:30 a.m.

With a sharp inhale, I stood, grabbed my bag, and left for the bus station.

By the time I arrived at the store, it was already packed.

The hum of conversation, the faint sound of music playing from the overhead speakers, and the steady beeping of registers filled the air. The scent of new fabric, fresh paper, and expensive perfume blended into something familiar, grounding.

This. This was normal.

As I stepped inside, my employees greeted me warmly, each busy assisting customers. Their efficiency was something I took pride in, and as I checked the wall clock—9:13 a.m.—I smiled to myself.

At least today seemed to be running smoothly.

I made my way toward my office, weaving through the bustling store with a practiced ease. My heels clicked softly against the floor as I reached for the door handle, already running through my morning to-do list in my head.

But as I pushed the door open, I froze.

My breath hitched.

Because nothing—nothing—had prepared me for the surprise waiting behind that door.