2. Rebecca
REBECCA
R ebecca woke before the first light of dawn, her body instinctively in tune with the early hour.
The hotel room was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic breathing of the woman lying beside her.
Lillian, or at least that’s what she thought her name was.
Rebecca had caught it between the flirty exchanges and heated touches, but no formal introductions had been necessary.
The night had been exactly what Rebecca wanted—no expectations, no complications, just a moment of indulgence.
She lay still for a moment, her mind clear as she stared up at the ceiling.
It had been good, that much was undeniable.
Lillian had been full of energy, matching Rebecca in ways few could.
But what impressed Rebecca more was the ease that now filled the space between them.
There was no uncomfortable post-mortem of the night, no desperate clinging or awkwardness, just… quiet.
She turned her head slightly, her gaze drifting to the woman still sleeping next to her.
The bed covers barely clung to Lillian’s body, revealing smooth skin and the slight rise and fall of her chest. Rebecca noted the relaxed posture; Lillian wasn’t holding onto any expectations of morning cuddles or sweet words.
In fact, her lack of neediness intrigued Rebecca.
She had expected some kind of emotional aftermath, the usual questions or gestures that typically came with nights like these. But instead, there was peace.
Her curiosity piqued as she slid out of bed as quietly as possible.
She had a busy day ahead, and despite the relaxing distraction of the night before, she had a full schedule to prepare for.
Monday’s going to be important , she reminded herself, mentally reviewing her to-do list as she stepped into the bathroom.
The cool tile against her bare feet grounded her, bringing her focus back to what needed to be done before her work consumed her entirely.
She turned on the faucet, letting the water warm up before splashing some on her face.
Her reflection in the mirror was calm, composed, as always.
The slight smudge of mascara beneath her eyes was the only betrayal of the passionate night they’d shared.
She wiped it away, wondering briefly what had compelled Lillian to stay so detached.
There was a strength in it, a clearheadedness Rebecca hadn’t expected.
Most women tried to prolong the experience, even if they said they wanted something casual. Lillian, though—Lillian was different.
Rebecca turned off the tap and dried her face, reaching for the robe hung on the back of the door.
She slipped it on, tying it loosely at her waist before walking back into the room.
Lillian was awake now, sitting up against the headboard, her beautiful green eyes still sleepy but alert.
There was a quiet understanding between them, the same easy comfort that had marked their interaction from the beginning.
"Morning," Lillian said, her voice soft but lacking any unnecessary sweetness. She stretched her arms above her head, the blanket slipping a little further, though she made no move to pull it back up.
"Morning," Rebecca replied, leaning casually against the doorframe.
She watched as Lillian swung her legs over the side of the bed, her movements unhurried but purposeful.
Rebecca noted the way Lillian scanned the room, as if calculating how quickly she could gather her things and make her exit.
No awkward lingering, no clinging to last night. It was rare. And impressive.
Lillian stood, pulling on the dress she had worn the night before, the one that had caught Rebecca’s eye the moment she walked into the bar.
She slipped it over her head, smoothing it down before turning back to Rebecca.
There was a moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
If anything, it felt like an unspoken agreement.
The night had been what it was, and now it was time to move on.
"I have a lot to do today," Lillian said, casually stepping into her heels. "Big week ahead."
Rebecca tilted her head slightly, intrigued by the hint of confidence in her voice.
Lillian didn’t offer any details, but the fact that she was focused on what lay ahead—just like Rebecca—made her pause.
Who is this woman? Rebecca wondered, though she didn’t ask.
It wasn’t her style to pry, and besides, part of the allure was the anonymity they’d both embraced.
"I do too," Rebecca replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "A lot to prepare for Monday."
Lillian met her gaze, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Then we’ll call this good timing."
Rebecca chuckled softly. "Very good timing."
There was no lingering goodbye, no awkwardness, just a shared look of mutual respect, maybe even admiration.
Lillian walked to the door, her fingers lightly trailing the edge of the frame before she glanced back at Rebecca.
"No need to complicate it, right?" she said with a knowing grin, echoing the understanding that had existed between them from the moment their eyes met the night before.
Rebecca shook her head, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Exactly."
With that, Lillian left, the soft click of the door closing behind her.
Rebecca stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door, her mind racing through the events of the night.
The lack of neediness, the complete self-assuredness—it was rare, and Rebecca found herself more curious than she expected.
No exchange, no morning chatter about their lives or jobs.
Lillian hadn’t even asked her for her name.
She admired the clean cut of it all. No strings, no emotional fallout. Just two people enjoying the moment for what it was. But still, something about Lillian’s cool demeanor nagged at her. Women didn’t usually walk away so easily, and that, in and of itself, was intriguing.
Rebecca turned back toward the room, running her hands through her hair as she began to get dressed. She had a long day ahead and a lot to prepare for Monday’s demands. But even as she moved through the routine motions of getting ready, her mind kept circling back to Lillian.
Whoever she was, she had managed to leave a lasting impression in a very short amount of time.
Rebecca slipped into her tailored pants and crisp blouse, her fingers moving with automatic precision as she mentally shifted gears. Her day was about to start, and she had no time to dwell on fleeting encounters. But as she glanced at her reflection one last time, she couldn’t help but smirk.
Maybe, just maybe, she’d cross paths with Lillian again. And if she did, Rebecca had a feeling it wouldn’t be so easy to keep her curiosity at bay.
Rebecca moved through the hotel suite with efficient grace, her mind already on Monday's to-do list. She opened her laptop, set it on the small desk near the window, and began typing at lightning speed, her fingers a blur across the keyboard. The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over the room, but Rebecca didn’t notice.
Her focus was razor-sharp, her thoughts already consumed by the day ahead.
She opened her email, quickly firing off a dozen messages to her assistant, Jackson. Her instructions were precise, leaving no room for error.
“Jackson,” she typed in the subject line, the urgency clear even in that single word. “I need the following done by the time I arrive Monday morning:”
1. Confirm the roster for next week.
2. Double-check the equipment order for the new procedure we’re trialing. It must arrive by Tuesday.
3. Reschedule the board meeting to Friday. I don’t have time on Wednesday.
4. Prepare the reports for the funding presentation, specifically the sections on outcomes.
5. Set a meeting with Vaughn regarding her latest research proposal. I have some questions about her methodology.
6. Remind Dr. Carter about the Symposium details; his keynote is two weeks away.
7. Follow up with the PR team about the interview requests. I’ll need their summaries on my desk by Tuesday.
8. Send my personal shopper an email. Vivian’s already calling about the gala. I need something formal and understated, nothing flashy.
She paused for a moment, tapping her fingers on the edge of the desk.
Rebecca trusted Jackson implicitly; he had never let her down.
He was always a step ahead, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them.
But the list was long, and there was no margin for mistakes, not with the big week looming.
She hit send and then pulled out her phone, leaving a voice message, her voice brisk and no-nonsense. "Jackson, check your email. I’ve sent you the list. Get back to me on points three and six by noon."
The phone call from her mother came just as Rebecca was organizing her files for the upcoming surgeries. The phone buzzed with Vivian Lang flashing across the screen. Rebecca’s jaw tightened, her grip on the phone firm as she answered, already knowing the tone this conversation would take.
"Mother."
"Rebecca." Vivian’s voice was as crisp and cold as ever. No pleasantries, no warmth, not even the superficial inquiry about how her daughter was doing. It was always straight to business with Vivian Lang. "I’m calling to remind you about the Annual Surgical Research Gala in two weeks."
Rebecca rolled her eyes, though she knew better than to let the gesture show in her voice. "I’m aware, Mother. I’ve already arranged for Jackson to handle my dress."
Vivian’s sigh on the other end of the line was palpable. "Good. Don’t embarrass me this year, Rebecca. The last thing we need is you showing up in something ‘practical’ like last year. It’s a black-tie event, not a business meeting."
"I know what it is, Mother," Rebecca replied, her tone clipped. "I’ve attended every year since I was a resident."
"Yes, and yet you always find a way to downplay it. You should take it seriously. This is our name on the line, our reputation in the community."
Rebecca’s fingers drummed on the desk, her patience thinning. "I’ll be there, appropriately dressed."
"I expect nothing less," Vivian continued, her voice as frosty as ever. "Your father and I will arrive a day early. Make sure your schedule allows for some family obligations."
Family obligations. A concept as foreign as warmth in their household. Rebecca resisted the urge to sigh aloud. "I’ll make time."
"Good. I assume you’re well prepared for the gala’s board presentation? I’ll expect nothing but excellence."
"Of course," Rebecca said, keeping her voice steady, though the back of her neck prickled with frustration. There was never any acknowledgment of her work, her achievements, or even the effort she put into maintaining the Lang family’s reputation. No, there were only expectations, always just a notch higher than anyone else’s.
"Don’t disappoint me," Vivian added, her final words as cutting as ever.
Rebecca’s lips tightened into a thin line. "I won’t."
Vivian paused, the silence between them heavy. "I’ll see you at the gala then," she finally said, before the call disconnected with a click.
Rebecca pulled the phone away from her ear, staring at the blank screen for a moment.
There it was—the usual conversation with her mother.
Cold, clinical, and to the point. No questions about how she was handling the mounting pressure at work or how she had been.
Just a reminder to perform, to meet expectations, to carry the weight of the family name without complaint.
She tossed the phone onto the desk and exhaled sharply, her mood soured but not broken.
Vivian Lang had never been the nurturing type; Rebecca had accepted that a long time ago.
Her mother wasn’t interested in her personal life—never had been, never would be.
In their world, success was measured in achievements, not emotional connections.
And Rebecca had learned to live with that, to thrive in it, even.
She returned to her laptop, her focus shifting back to her preparations for Monday.
The big day loomed over her, but it was where she thrived—in the precision, the control, the relentless pace of it all.
Still, as she organized her files and prepared for the week ahead, her mind wandered briefly back to the woman from last night.
Lillian’s easy detachment, her lack of neediness, and the way she had walked out of that room with no more than a simple "good timing" had left Rebecca unexpectedly curious.
For someone who demanded so little, Lillian had left more of an impression than Rebecca was willing to admit.
There was a part of her that appreciated the clarity of their interaction—no strings, no expectations, no emotional hangovers.
But there was also a small part of her that wondered about the woman behind the easy smile and the quick exit.
She shook the thought away as she set up the final arrangements for her week. There was no room for distractions. Not with everything riding on the next few days.
Rebecca leaned back in her chair, taking a final glance at her perfectly ordered to-do list. Monday was going to be critical. And she, as always, would be ready.