The sound of the water drowned everything.
Steam curled around my shoulders, clung to my lashes, masked the sting in my eyes as I pressed my palms against the cool tile. I wasn't crying. Not really. Just... leaking. From shame, from heat, from the fact that I let him do that to me. Again.
Cassian Vale.My boss.My blackmailer.My fucking ride-or-die nightmare.
The shower couldn't scrub him off.Not his voice. Not his grip.Not the way he looked at me when he slid inside like he'd never left.
I turned the heat up until my skin burned. Then I turned it off.
Towel. Bathroom light. Silence.
Until it wasn't silent anymore.
A soft click. No knock. No hello. Just—open.
I froze, water still dripping down the backs of my thighs. My breath caught.
Something was off.
The lock.
Still latched... but not locked.
I stepped into the hallway, bare feet on cold tile, towel tight around me. And then I heard it—heavy boots. Familiar. Slow. Like they belonged here.
Then I saw him.
Dante Morelli.
My ex.My mistake.My personal end of the fucking world.
He was already inside, standing just past the kitchen island. Black leather jacket. That goddamn scar on his chin. Eyes like grave dirt. And a smirk that didn't belong anywhere near my life anymore.
"You really need a better lock," he said, voice like gravel dragged over bad memories.
My stomach dropped. My grip on the towel tightened.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
He shrugged, casual as ever, walking deeper into the apartment like he still had a key.
"That's how you greet me now? After everything?"
"Get out."
"I heard you're working for Cassian Vale now," he said, letting the name rot on his tongue. "Mr. Empire. Mr. Polished. Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass."
"And?" I snapped.
He looked me up and down. Not like a man who wanted. Like a man who owned.
"You still smell like him."
I crossed my arms, towel clinging to damp skin. "I don't belong to anyone."
He smirked. Not the charming kind. The kind that made your knees weak for all the wrong reasons.
"Say that again," he murmured, stepping closer, "but this time without his cum still dripping down your thighs."
My hand moved before I could stop it, but he caught it mid-air—tight, firm. Not rough. Just enough. The way Dante always was. Just enough to remind you who he'd been.
"You never did learn to shut up," he said, gaze fixed on my mouth. "Even when your lips were wrapped around me."
"I'm not that girl anymore."
He took another step. I could feel the heat coming off his skin, the scent of danger wrapped in smoke and regret.
"No," he said, "but I'm still me."
And that was the problem.
Because Dante wasn't the kind of man you got over.He was the kind that branded you from the inside out.The kind that never needed to raise his voice to ruin you.
"If Cassian finds out—"
He cut me off with a laugh. Sharp. Unbothered.
"What? He'll fire you? Post about it in Forbes?"
He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
"I'm not PR, Lex. I'm not part of your clean new chapter. I'm the part you buried. The one that fucking stains. And I'm back."
My lungs stalled. My legs turned to air.
Every part of me wanted to scream—or kiss him.Maybe both.
He saw it. Of course he did.
"I'll come back," he whispered, dark and slow. "When you're alone again. When he breaks you.
And when he does… you'll remember who the fuck you really belong to."
Then he turned, walked out like the devil never needed a goodbye.
Just the slam of the door.
And me—collapsing onto the floor, towel slipping, tears burning hotter than the water still clinging to my skin.
Because no matter how far I ran,the past never needed permission to come home.