“Fucking hell, Mika. You’re so wet,” his breath is hot against my neck as he thrusts deeper, his body presses into mine like he’s trying to bury himself beneath my skin.

A moan escapes my lips and my fingers dig into his back, nails scraping over his taut muscles as I arch against him, pulling him closer, urging him further.

His eyes lock onto mine, dark and feverish, a silent plea I can’t ignore. His hands cup my breasts, fingers kneading as his mouth trails down, lips closing around my nipple. My breath shudders. His name barely makes it past my lips—

Then I hear it.

Footsteps. Just outside the door.

My body goes rigid beneath him, the heat between us snuffed out in an instant. I barely breathe.

He stills, lifting his head, sensing the change in me immediately. His hand tightens around my waist. “Mika?” His voice is low, but there’s an edge to it now.

I wait, listening, my pulse roaring in my ears. The footsteps pause. Silence stretches, thick and suffocating. Then they retreat, fading down the hall.

I exhale sharply, but the moment of relief is brief.

Lucian’s gaze is sharp, knowing. “You’re afraid that was my brother.” It’s not a question.

I force myself to meet his eyes as he runs his thumb over my cheek. “I told you, you shouldn’t worry about him.”

“Of course, I’m going to worry about him.” I pull away, very aware of the chill that replaces his warmth. “He’s my husband.” I see the way his jaw tics, the muscle there clenching. “And you know how he is. If he finds out about this, about us,” I swallow hard. “He’ll kill me.”

I get off from under him and push off the bed, my limbs shaky as I reach for my clothes. The weight of his stare burns into me as I slip the dress back over my skin, as if he can’t stand watching me cover myself.

“Mika.”

I don’t stop. I shouldn’t.

He stays where he is, sprawled naked on the bed, his toned, honey glazed abs staring at me like a delectable dish, begging me to get back in bed. His gaze is unreadable now, no longer hazed with pleasure, but something calculating and darker.

“Do you really have to go?”

I nod, fastening the last button, ignoring the ferociously horny part of me that didn’t get to finish. “Yes.”

A slow exhale leaves him, but then, he moves.

In an instant, he’s on his feet, closing the distance between us in two strides. My back hits the wall before I even realize he’s there, his hands bracket me in, caging me between hard muscle and unyielding wood.

Having him this close, his scent filling up my nostrils, I don’t think I have enough will to resist him.

“You say you have to go,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from mine, “but we both know you’ll be back.”

I swallow, my breath hitching as his fingers ghost over my jaw, tracing the shape of my lips before tilting my chin up. His eyes are molten, there’s something else in them too, something I can’t afford to name.

He leans in, mouth brushing against mine, not quite a kiss, but close enough that I feel the heat and the promise.

“You can pretend all you want,” he whispers, “but we both know where home is.”

And then he kisses me.

It’s not soft. It’s not gentle. It’s consuming, claiming.

I know I should push him away. I should run.

But instead, my fingers tighten around his wrists.

And I kiss him back.

***

I’m in a café, I had to leave the entire estate to clear my head. I can’t believe I’m now the kind of woman that fucks her husband’s brother in the same house they live in.

The café is warm, the scent of freshly brewed coffee thick in the air, but I barely notice. My fingers trace the rim of my cup absently, my mind spiraling somewhere far away, where the ghost of his touch still lingers on my skin.

Lucian.

I bite my lip, my heart pounding. I can’t place a name on what it was, wicked, possessive indulgence? The way he looked at me this morning, the way he kissed me, whispered to me like he owned me. The worst part is I feel like I won’t be able to resist him anymore, no matter how much I want to.

A sharp snap of fingers yanks me from my thoughts.

“Hello? Earth to Mika?”

I jolt, sucking in a breath as I turn to my best friend, Rina, who is watching me with narrowed eyes, one perfectly manicured brow arched in suspicion.

“Where the hell did you just go?” she asks, propping her chin on her hand. “You’ve been staring at that cup like it holds the secrets of the universe.”

I exhale, dragging a hand through my hair. “It’s nothing.”

Rina snorts. “Bullshit. Spill.”

I hesitate. Rina is the only person I trust with the truth, but even saying it out loud feels like setting a match

to dry kindling.

Still, I can’t keep it in.

“I’ve been… involved with Lucian.”

Rina blinks. Then blinks again. And then, very slowly, she sits back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Lucian.”

I nod.

“Lucian. As in your husband’s brother. The man you’re married to, the one you’re supposed to be—”

“I know,” I cut in, rubbing my temple, It sounds way worse out loud. “I know.”

She exhales sharply. “Mika, what the hell are you doing? You know why you’re here. Lucian is not your target. His brother is. You’re supposed to be getting closer to him, making him trust you.”

I swallow, my fingers tightening around my cup.

“He’s not going to trust you if he finds out you’re screwing his brother,” she continues bluntly. “No, he’s going to kill you.”

I look away, jaw clenching.

Because the truth is, my husband doesn’t give a damn about me.

It’s been a month since we got married, and in that time, we’ve barely spoken unless we had to. We’ve never been in close proximity unless we needed to attend a function together, and even then, he only parades me around like a trophy, an accessory to his power. He doesn’t see me as a wife. He barely sees me at all.

And I should be fine with that. This was never about love. We both knew what this marriage was, a contract, a means to an end. Our families get what they want, and we play our roles. Simple.

Except, somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling simple. Adrian, my brother who’d arranged the whole thing had warned me beforehand to reel in whatever demon I’d had in me and be the meekest version of myself for my new family and I’ve tried to be a good wife but damn, Cassian knows how to push all the right buttons.

I don’t explain all of this to Rina, but it’s why I got sidetracked. It’s why, when Lucian came out of nowhere, when he looked at me like I was something he would devour, I jumped into his open arms.

I wouldn’t say I fell for him but our chemistry? Undeniable. The tension whenever we’re

together is so high, it’s suffocating. I gave in instantly,

like I hadn’t felt a man’s touch in years, and the moment his hands were on me, I crumbled.

I don’t even realize how lost in thought I’ve gotten again until Rina clicks her tongue and tilts her head at me.

“Damn,” she muses. “Is he that good?”

I suck in a sharp breath, my cheeks burning.

“I mean,” she continues, lips quirking, “is he that good with it?”

I swallow, shifting in my seat. “He’s…” I trail off, pressing my lips together, but the heat pooling in my

stomach betrays me.

Rina lets out a low whistle, shaking her head with a knowing smirk. “Yeah, you’re fucked. And not in the good way.”

I glare at her, but she just shrugs. “Look, Mika, I don’t care how good he is, you need to get your head in the game.”

I nod. “Of course.”

But even as I say it, I know I’m not a hundred percent sure.

What I do know is that if I don’t figure this out fast, it’s over for me, for my family, for the Varela name.

And if I want to survive, I need to do something, fast.

Starting with getting my husband wrapped around my finger and staying away from his hotshot brother.