I shift closer, resting my head briefly against Damian’s shoulder. He stiffens for half a second, then relaxes, arm coming around me without thinking. The gesture feels instinctive, unplanned.
But I don’t linger. I’m careful not to let this tip into something else. Expectations are not the point.
“Your house has excellent soundproofing,” I say lightly.
He huffs a laugh. “Old money perk.”
“Figures.”
We lie there a moment longer, bodies cooling, adrenaline fading. I can feel the night inching forward, the sense that this particular pocket of time is approaching its natural end.
When Damian shifts, stretching slightly, I know what’s coming next even before he says it. “We should clean up.”
I smile to myself, already planning my exit. “You first. I don’t think my legs will work. You wore me out.”
He laughs fully now, his eyes taking in the room again. They land somewhere distant. “Can’t believe I forgot to lock the door. Twice.”
“I can’t believe a man your age could go twice in a row.”
He swats my ass as he gets up. “I’m not that old.”
“Men younger than you have disappointed me.”
“The fools should have used something to help them go again. I’m glad I did.”
“Me too.”
He smiles, closes the door, and I’m off to the races. I slide off the bed, gathering my dress and smoothing it back into place. The silk falls just right, as if it’s been waiting for this moment. My heels are where I left them.
And then there’s the underwear. Red. Soft. Embroidered with Jason’s first name. I shimmied them off before Damian saw them, and now everyone will know where they were.
Jason gave them to me early on, presenting them like a naughty secret. It took me longer than I’m proud of to realize they weren’t special. That he gave a pair to every woman he slept with. His way of marking territory. His way of pretending exclusivity meant something.
The tacky asshole.
I fold them carefully, then reconsider. No. Careful is wrong.
I tuck them haphazardly between the pillows instead, just visible enough to be unmistakable, red against blue, his name catching the light. Anyone with eyes will know they don’t belong to a future bride. Anyone with a history with Jason will know exactly what they mean.
Presentation matters.
I take one last look around the room—the bed, the window, the quiet—and then I’m gone, slipping out into the hallway without a sound.
Downstairs, the party is still roaring. Masks sit slightly askew now, champagne flowing more freely, secrets multiplying by the minute. I spot Faith near the staircase, tucked into Jason’s side, her head tilted up toward him like the future is a promise instead of a gamble. She looks radiant. Confident. Safe.
I pass close enough that she turns at the last second, eyes widening just a fraction. I lean in, my voice light, almost kind. “Red isn’t your color.”
She blinks, confused, already trying to place me. “I beg your?—”
I keep walking, gliding through the room to the front doors. I snatch my coat and make my way into the cold. Snow crunches beneath my heels as I step into the night, breath puffing white, pulse steady.
Behind me, the Baylock estate glows, oblivious. Damian will come back to an empty bed and leave, wondering about his mystery woman. Jason and Faith will find a surprise.
Maybe I should feel bad for the havoc this will bring. But I don’t. In fact, I can’t stop smiling. I once told Jason not to break my heart. He promised not to. A man should keep his promises.
And a sister should know better than to steal a boyfriend.
6
