I pull out my phone and dial the home number.
“Who are you calling?” Luca asks without looking up from his own phone.
“My kids.”
He doesn’t respond. Just goes back to typing whatever message he was working on.
The phone rings twice before someone picks up.
“Anna, hello.” Mrs. Dan’s voice is warm. “How was your evening?”
“Fine. Are the twins asleep?”
“Sound asleep. They went down around seven. Mila asked for you before bed, but I told her you’d see her in the morning.”
My chest tightens. “Thank you.”
“Of course, dear.” There’s a pause. “Are you not coming home tonight?”
I glance at Luca. He’s still focused on his phone, but I know he’s listening.
“No,” I say quietly. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
“Alright. Don’t worry about a thing. The children are perfectly safe.”
I end the call and stare at my phone. Mila asked for me. Of course she did. She always does when I’m not there for bedtime.
“Satisfied?” Luca asks.
“No.”
The car turns onto a private drive, passing through iron gates that open automatically. The estate comes into view, massive and glowing against the night sky. Three stories of stone and glass, balconies, tall windows. This is where my children are going to live. This is the world I just sold them into.
We stop in front of the main entrance. A man opens my door before I can reach for the handle. I step out, heels clicking on smooth pavement, and follow Luca up the steps.
The foyer is all marble and chandeliers. Art on the walls, furniture that looks untouchable. Everything is cold and perfect.
“Your things will be moved in tomorrow morning,” Luca says. “Your children as well. I’ve arranged rooms for them on the second floor.”
“How thoughtful.”
He doesn’t react to the sarcasm.
“Upstairs.” He heads toward the staircase.
I follow him down a long hallway to a suite at the end. King-sized bed, dark sheets, windows overlooking the grounds.
He closes the door behind us. The lock clicks.
“You can use the bathroom if you need a moment,” he says, already shrugging off his suit jacket.
I walk into the adjoining bathroom and close the door. Marble everywhere. A shower big enough for three people. I brace my hands on the counter and stare at my reflection.
I look exhausted. Pale. My eyes are too bright, too wide.
I can do this. I’ve done this before. Five years ago, in fact, with this same man. One night that resulted in two children and a secret I’ve been keeping ever since.
And my body remembers. Even now, standing here in his bathroom preparing to sleep with him again, I feel the pull. The heat. It’s been five years since I’ve had sex with anyone. Fiveyears of being a mother, working awful jobs, surviving day to day. Five years of celibacy because no one else felt right after him.
