Earlier, we talked on the balcony, the cool air biting at my skin as I leaned against the railing, with the phone pressed to my ear.
Ella had been radiant, even through the phone, and her excitement bursting in every word as she gushed about Langport.“Vi, I wish you could see this place—it’s everything I ever dreamed of. The campus, the library, and even the shitty coffee from the student café. I feel like I belong here.”
I had smiled, forcing out a soft laugh. “I knew you would.”
It was a lie.
Not that I didn’t believe she belonged at Langport—she did, more than anyone I knew—but because I couldn’t bring myself to tell her how much I didn’t belong here. That I wasn’t safe. That I was barely holding myself together. That every night, I lay awake, tangled in uncertainty, and unable to make sense of why Asher is involved at all or what comes next. Every question spirals into another, and the unknown is just as suffocating as the past.
That I couldn’t tell her anything.
Not about Asher.
Not about the police investigation.
Not about the overdoses.
Nothing.
Instead, I nodded along as she talked about her new classes, her new friends, and her plans for the future. She was happy, and I should be happy for her. But every word felt like a knife, twisting deeper, and cutting into the space between us.
Ella had no idea anything was wrong, and I couldn't bring myself to tell her.
Even now, I feel the weight of it pressing on me, heavy and unrelenting, like I’m drowning in something I can’t escape. My fingers dig into my palm.Fuck this.
I don’t know what I want. But I know I want more than this.
His bath has been my secret escape. The only place where I can sink into warmth and silence, let my mind unravel, and let myself breathe. I know I shouldn’t be here, but I also know he won’t be home for hours. I never get caught.
I slip through his door, my steps light, already anticipating the way the hot water will chase away the chill that lingers under my skin. The marble glows under the soft lighting, and my pulse flutters as I peel away my clothes, one by one, letting them pool at my feet. I slide into the hot water with a quiet sigh, sinking until only my face peeks above the surface.
It’s perfect. Heat licks at my skin, unwinding the tension, and melting away the edges of my guilt. My head falls back against the edge of the tub, and for the first time in weeks, I feel something close to peace.
“You’re in my tub.” His voice is low,playful, teasing.
I jolt upright, water sloshing against the sides of the tub. My fingers tighten against the porcelain edge as my pulse stumbles, betraying the calm I was clinging to. Heat floods my cheeks—not just from the bath—but from the weight of his gaze, sharp and knowing.
I swallow, forcing my expression into something smooth, and unaffected. “You weren’t using it.” My voice is steadier than I expected.
His lips twitch, like he’s playing a game only he knows the rules to, and waiting to see how long I’ll keep up. Instead, he moves closer, prowling, and watching me like he’s waiting for me to crack first. He shrugs off his suit jacket, tossing it onto the counter, then leans against the vanity.
“Are you testing me, Violet?” he muses, tilting his head like he’s amused by the idea.
My throat tightens. “Maybe.”
His fingers ghost along the edge of his tie. “And what exactly do you think happens when you test me?”
Heat floods between my legs. I clench my thighs together under the water, but he knows. I can see it in the dark amusement that flickers across his face.
I swallow hard. “Maybe I wanted to find out.”
A slow exhale. Then he moves. He kneels beside the tub, and rolls his sleeves up, revealing inked patterns winding up his forearms, muscles flexing as he braces himself on the marble. Close. Too close. My breath stutters when he reaches forward, fingers trailing lazily through the water, and barely grazing my thigh.
“You should be careful what you wish for, Vi.” His voice is soft, almost playful, but there’s a darker promise beneath it.
I should move. I should break the tension, shove him away, or do something before I completely lose myself in the way he’s looking at me. But I don’t. A spark of bravery flickers inside me, the desperate need to claim even the smallest bit of control in a world that offers me none. Instead, I shift forward, letting my knees brush the side of the tub, while my body practically begs for something I shouldn’t want.
“Touch me,” I whisper.
