Chapter 231

[ 1,049 words ]

Katia’s POV

“I know he’s not forcing himself on you,” Sam said, her voice rising, thick with frustration and genuine worry. She turned her head briefly to look at me, her eyes sharp. “You can still stop this, Katia. What if your husband suddenly shows up? What is going to happen to this little shitshow you’ve created? Are you going to tell your husband that you suddenly find your sister’s husband’s dick more appealing than his p>

I pressed my lips together, my throat suddenly dry. The mention of Jules—the nameless, faceless man I had married in Las Vegas seven years ago—made my chest ache. The ring was now on my finger every day. The memory of that night was still the one sacred thing I had kept protected through all the years of my mother’s cruelty and the struggle of raising Aiden alone.

“Katia, I know what happened in Vegas was special to you,” Sam continued, her tone pleading now, stripping away the professional distance she usually maintained when we were working. “But are you really willing to risk it all for your sister’s husband? He is a fine man, with clearly a good dick, but what are you going to tell Aiden? That you love his simulator, man? That you’re sleeping with the uncle who has been buying him expensive models and teaching him how to fly? Think, dammit p>

I looked out the window, watching the grey buildings of Brooklyn blur past as we crossed the bridge toward the Windsor estate. My heart was thundering so loud I was sure Sam could hear it.

“I am your friend,” Sam said, her voice shaking slightly. “And I know Julian has been fucking you, or you’ve been fucking him. But this is incredibly dangerous. The drama that would come with this if the world were to find out—you will not survive it, Katia. Delia will make absolutely sure of that. She will drag your name, your company, and Aiden through the mud until there is nothing left of you p>

She was right. Every single word she was saying was the absolute, unvarnished truth. If Delia found out, she wouldn’t just be angry; she would use the Windsor name and the Kensington money to destroy my name. She would call me a home-wrecker in every publication in the country.

And then there was Jules. The husband I had promised to find. The man Grandma Celeste was actively searching for on my behalf. What would I say to him if he came back? How could I look at the marriage certificate and tell him that I had spent the last several months letting Julian Windsor claim every inch of my body, over and over, until I was too sore to walk?

I looked at Sam. My hands were shaking in my lap, and I clasped them together to stop it.

I knew she was right. I knew the logistics. I knew the risks. But there was a truth sitting in my chest that was far more terrifying than the threat of Delia’s revenge or the public scandal.

How could I tell her that I had now fallen for my sister’s husband?

How could I explain to Sam that it wasn’t just about the physical release anymore? It wasn’t about the control games, or the “tip of his cock” teasing, or the frantic, aggressive sex in the server room or on my desk. It had crossed a line. Last week, when he had driven all the way inside me on his bed, when he had filled me so completely that I had screamed and seen stars, something had broken inside me. And this morning, when he had held me in the dark of my penthouse, slow and deep, his heart thundering against my back, I hadn’t been thinking about Jules. I had been thinking about him. Only him.

I was in love with him. I loved his touch. I loved the terrifying, possessive weight of his body on mine. I loved the way he looked at Aiden, the way he spoke to my son, and the quiet, intense shorthand they had already built between them. I loved the way he commanded me, the way he forced me to drop my corporate armor and just be a woman who belonged to him.

“I can’t just stop, Sam,” I whispered, the words feeling like ash on my tongue.

“Why?” Sam asked, her voice cracking as she turned the car onto the long, private driveway of the Windsor estate. The iron gates were already open, the massive stone mansion looming ahead of us in the grey afternoon light. “Why can’t you stop, Katia? You are the most disciplined woman I know. You built a tech empire from nothing. You survived your mother. You can survive going cold turkey on Julian Windsor’s dick p>

I looked at the house. I could see the light in the dining room window, the place where my son was currently eating pasta that Gail had made for him. My son, who had Julian’s jaw, Julian’s hands, and Julian’s way of looking at the world.

“Because it’s not just that,” I said quietly, looking directly at Sam. “It’s too late p>

Sam stopped the car in the circular driveway. She put it in park, but she didn’t turn off the engine. She turned her entire body to face me, her eyes wide with a sudden, devastating realization as she read the truth on my face.

“Katia,” she breathed, her voice dropping to a whisper of pure horror. “Tell me you didn’t p>

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t say the words out loud because saying them would make them real, and if they were real, then the ground beneath my feet was already beginning to collapse. I reached for the door handle, my fingers slipping slightly against the leather.

“I’m going to see my son,” I said.

I opened the door and stepped out into the cold afternoon air, my legs stiff and sore as my feet hit the gravel. I didn’t look back at Sam. I walked toward the front door of the Windsor estate, knowing that every step I took was carrying me deeper into a ruin of my own making and knowing, with absolute certainty, that I was not going to turn back.

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