Chapter 176

[ 1,018 words ]

Katia’s POV

Not because of Julian. Not because of what had happened in his office or his server room or a car park in November. or even the desert. Not because of any of it in isolation.

Because of the accumulation of it. The thirty days of proximity. The way Sam had looked at me and said the things she said at the birthday party. The way Gail had looked at me over her third glass of wine. The way my own wall kept getting thinner every time I hit it — I had never met Julian before the WEG partnership — and lately when I said it in my head, it didn’t land the way it used to.

I sat in the car park for twenty minutes.

Then I did not go upstairs.

I drove to the track.

Sam had a contact who managed a private circuit forty minutes outside the city. Closed on weekday evenings. Clean asphalt, good lighting, no cameras. I had been using it for two years when I needed to think without thinking — when the thing I was processing was too large for a room and required speed to break it down into manageable parts.

The Ducati was already there. Sam had arranged it without being asked. She knew my patterns better than I did.

I suited up in the small equipment room. Helmet, gloves, leathers. The familiar sequence of it.

I did not think about Jules.

I did not think about Julian.

I did not think about Grandma’s hand over mine or the ring in the box by my bed or Aiden calling someone Gigi for the first time in his life with the ease of a child who had simply decided that was her name now.

I got on the bike.

And I went very, very fast.

The first lap was for the speed. The second lap was for the corner sequences — finding the right line, adjusting, correcting. The third lap was where the thinking stopped entirely, and there was only the track and the throttle and the pure mathematics of a machine moving through space at the limit of what physics would allow.

I did five laps. Then ten. Then I lost count.

Somewhere in the middle of it, the thing I had been carrying since the lunch began to settle. Not resolve — settle. The way things settled when you moved fast enough that the weight redistributed itself and stopped pressing on any one place so hard.

I came off the track at nine thirty PM.

Sat on the bike for a moment in the quiet.

The city was out there somewhere beyond the perimeter fence, doing what it always did — moving, indifferent, unhelpful. Manhattan had never once cared about any of my problems, and I had always found that useful.

I pulled out my phone.

One message from Sam: Aiden says Gigi is teaching him to play chess and that he is already very good at it.

I looked at the message for a moment.

Then I typed back: He has been studying the pieces since he was four. Gigi doesn’t know what she’s started.

Sam: How was the lunch?

I looked at the track. At the asphalt still warm under the lights.

’Interesting,’ I sent back.

That’s all I’m getting?

That’s all you’re getting tonight.

A pause. Then: Fair enough. Drive safe.

I put the phone away.

I sat on the bike in the quiet of the private circuit and thought about Grandma saying, ’I will help you find your husband’ with the calm certainty of someone who already knew where to look.

I did not know what she knew.

But I was beginning to think she knew more than she had said.

I started the engine.

I drove home.

Delia’s POV

The humiliation from Julian’s wing was still a raw, open wound in my chest as I drove toward the city. My skin felt tight, my nerves frayed, and the only thing that could dull the edge was the kind of attention Julian refused to give me. I didn’t want romance. I didn’t want flowers. I wanted to feel powerful again, and I knew exactly where to find the man who looked at me like I was a prize rather than a chore.

I didn’t call ahead. I didn’t need to. I let myself into Victor’s place, my heels clicking a fast, aggressive rhythm across the floor. He was there, turning toward me with a smirk that said he’d been expecting a visit from the “forgotten” Kensington. He didn’t say a word as I walked straight up to him and grabbed the lapels of his shirt.

I needed to be taken. I needed to drown out Julian’s voice telling me I was repulsive and that my sister was the only one who could make his blood run hot.

We didn’t make it to the bedroom. I pushed him back toward the couch, and he went willingly, his hands already sliding under my skirt. I didn’t wait for him to lead. I stripped off my clothes, unzipped him, and climbed on top. The sex was hurried and desperate, a frantic collision of skin and frustration.

I rode him hard, my hands planted on his chest, my head thrown back as I tried to force every image of Katia and Julian out of my mind. The friction was the only thing that felt real, the only thing that made the horny ache in my gut subside. I moaned loud, filling the room with the sound of my release, but even as I peaked, my mind wouldn’t stop racing.

When we were done, I collapsed against him, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I stayed there for a moment, my head resting on his shoulder, but the clarity was already returning. Something was wrong. The pieces of the puzzle Julian had thrown at me earlier didn’t fit.

Victor noticed the change in my energy immediately. He shifted beneath me, his hand tracing the line of my spine. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low and observant.

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