Chapter 20 Aurelia
AURELIA
Nadia doesn’t ask where I’ve been.
She’s in the sitting room when I walk through the front door, pretending to read a magazine, but her eyes lift the moment she hears my footsteps. She takes in my state—my wrinkled dress, the lipstick I don’t have anymore, the way I’m holding my heels instead of wearing them.
Three seconds of silence.
Then she turns a page. “The boys are in the back yard.”
“Thank you.”
I head upstairs before anything else needs to be said.
The shower runs cold before I’m ready to get out. I stand under the spray trying to wash away the feel of Cassian’s hands on my skin, the taste of him still in my mouth, the way he looked at me when I left, like he knew I was lying about something.
It doesn’t work. I can still feel him everywhere.
The twins find me two hours later.
I’m in the library pretending to read when Finn barrels through the door like a small hurricane. Liam follows at his usual careful pace, taking in the room before committing to entering.
“Mam!” Finn launches himself at me, climbing onto the sofa without asking. “We built a fort outside, and Nadia said we could have cookies in it but only if you said yes first.”
“Did she?”
“Yes! She said, ‘ask your mam,’ so I’m asking.”
Liam settles on the arm of the sofa. “It’s a good fort. We used the patio chairs and some blankets.”
“Sounds impressive.”
“It is,” Finn says proudly. Then his face shifts into something more serious. “Mam, when are we going to meet Da?”
The question hits me like cold water.
“Someday,” I manage.
“But when?” Finn presses. “You always say someday, but you never say when.”
“Because I don’t know exactly when.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated, baby.”
“You always say that too.”
Liam shifts on the arm of the sofa. “Does Da know about us?”
The question is quieter than Finn’s, but it cuts deeper.
“Not yet,” I say.
“Why not?”
“Because…” I trail off, trying to find words that make sense to five-year-olds when they barely make sense to me. “Because sometimes grown-ups have to figure things out before they can tell each other important things.”
“But we’re important,” Finn says. “You said so.”
“You are. The most important thing in the world to me.”
“Then why can’t you just tell him?”
I pull Finn closer, and Liam slides down from the arm to lean against my other side. They fit against me like they always have, small and warm and trusting that I’ll give them answers that make everything okay.
But I don’t have those answers.
“When we meet him,” Liam says quietly, “will he like us?”
My throat tightens. “He’ll love you. Both of you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re his sons. And you’re incredible.”
“Can we have the cookies now?” Finn asks out of nowhere, and I take a breath of relief.
“Yes. But don’t make a mess.”
They’re gone before I finish the sentence, thundering back through the library door and down the hall toward the back yard.
I sit there alone with the book I’m not reading and the weight of their questions sitting heavy in my chest.
Cassian texts me three days later: Let’s have dinner tonight. I’ll send a car.
I should say no.
Instead, I text back: Where?
You’ll see.
The car arrives at seven with a driver who doesn’t speak to me. We drive for thirty minutes through Manhattan before pulling up outside a restaurant in the West Village I’ve never heard of.
Cassian is waiting at a corner table. He stands when I approach, and for a second, we just look at each other. He’s in dark jeans and a sweater, no suit, and the casual look makes him seem younger. Less dangerous.
It’s a lie, but an effective one.
“You came,” he says.
“You didn’t really give me a choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
We sit, and a waiter appears with wine. Cassian must have ordered before I arrived because the man pours without asking what we want.
When we’re alone again, Cassian leans back and watches me. “You look nervous.”
“I am nervous.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m lying to my family about where I am. If Julian finds out I’m here with you, there will be consequences. This is reckless and stupid, and I’m doing it anyway.”
“Does that bother you?”
I take a sip of wine to buy myself time. The answer is yes and no. Yes, because I’ve never been that good at lying, and the guilt sits heavily in my chest. No, because sitting across from Cassian in this quiet restaurant feels more right than anything has in years.
“Sometimes,” I say finally.
His mouth curves. “Just sometimes?”
“Don’t push.”
“I’m not pushing. I’m asking.”
The waiter returns to take our order. We choose things at random because neither of us is really thinking about food.
When he leaves, Cassian reaches across the table and takes my hand. The gesture is simple. Almost innocent. But the way his thumb brushes across my knuckles makes heat pool low in my stomach.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he says.
“I know.”
“Do you think about me?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think about?”
“That this is a terrible idea. That we should stop before someone gets hurt.”
“And yet you’re here.”
“And yet I’m here.”
We talk through dinner. Small things at first. He tells me about a deal he’s working on, a legitimate real estate development that has nothing to do with his usual operations. I tell him about Julian’s efforts to transition the family business, how he’s trying to clean up decades of Victor’s mess.
We don’t talk about the important things. The secrets I’m keeping. The children he doesn’t know about. The inevitable moment when everything falls apart. We just exist in this space where we’re two people having dinner, and for a few hours, that’s enough.
When we finish eating, he pays the bill, and we walk outside. The street is quiet, just a few people passing by on their way to somewhere else.
“My apartment is ten minutes from here,” he says.
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway.
“Okay.”
His apartment is in Tribeca. Top floor, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
I don’t get a chance to look around before his mouth is on mine.
We stumble toward the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. My dress hits the floor in the hallway. His sweater gets pulled over his head and tossed somewhere I don’t see. By the time we reach the bed, we’re both half-naked and breathing hard.
He pushes me down onto the mattress and follows me there, his weight pressing me into expensive sheets that smell like him. His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my legs apart, and I arch into the touch because I can’t help it.
This is what we do. We come together like we’re trying to burn each other out of our systems, desperate and consuming, neither of us able to stop.
His mouth moves down my neck, teeth scraping skin, and I dig my nails into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. He makes a sound low in his throat and grinds his hips against mine, the hard length of him pressing exactly where I need it.
I reach between us and undo his belt, shoving his jeans down far enough to free him. He pulls my underwear aside with one hand, the other braced beside my head, and then he’s pushing inside me in one long thrust that steals my breath.
We move together like we’ve done this a hundred times instead of three. He knows exactly how I like it, the angle that makes me gasp, the rhythm that builds until I can’t think about anything except the feel of him moving inside me.
When I come, it’s sharp and overwhelming, my entire body going rigid as pleasure crashes through me in waves. He follows seconds later, his forehead pressed against mine, breathing my name like a prayer or a curse.
Afterward, we lie there tangled together, sweat cooling on our skin, neither of us speaking.
Then I remember I need to clean up.
“Bathroom?” I ask.
He gestures toward a door on the left, and I slip out of bed.
The bathroom is all marble and chrome, and I take my time washing up, staring at my reflection, and wondering what the hell I’m doing.
When I come back, he’s takes a turn in the bathroom.
My purse is on the nightstand where I left it. Or where I thought I left it. It’s closed, sitting neatly beside the lamp. I pick it up and check inside. Everything looks normal.
I close the purse and set it down just as Cassian comes out of the bathroom.
He’s wearing his jeans but nothing else, and I try not to stare at the tattoos covering his chest and arms.
“I should go,” I say.
Cassian crosses the room and cups my face with both hands. “I’m not letting you go, Aurelia. You know that, right?”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Neither do you.”
He kisses me again, slower this time, and for a moment I let myself believe he’s right.
Then I pull away and finish getting dressed.
He watches from the bed, not trying to stop me. “I’ll see you soon,” he says.
It’s not a question.
“Maybe.”
“Definitely.”
I leave without another word.
Julian is in his study when I get home. The door is open, and he sees me walk past. “Aurelia.”
I stop in the doorway. “Yes?”
“Where were you?”
“Out.”
“With who?”
“A friend.”
“Which friend?”
I don’t answer.
Julian sets down the pen he’s holding and looks at me directly. “I’m not Victor. I’m not going to lock you up or control every aspect of your life. But I am going to ask you not to be reckless.”
“I’m not being reckless.”
“You’ve been disappearing for hours at a time. Making excuses. Nadia says you came home the other day looking like you’d been in a fight.”
“I wasn’t in a fight.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“Living my life.”
“With Cassian Rourke?”
The name hits me like a slap.
“How did you—”
“I’m not an idiot, Aurelia. I know he approached you at the gala. I know he set up that business meeting just to see you again. And I know you left with him after Nadia came back alone.”
I should deny it. Should lie and tell him he’s wrong.
But I’m tired of lying.
“So what if I was with him?” I say. “What are you going to do about it?”
Julian’s jaw tightens. “I’m going to remind you that being with him puts the boys at risk. He doesn’t know about them, and if he finds out—”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m careful.”
“Careful isn’t good enough. One slip, one mistake, and he’ll figure it out. And then what? You think he’s just going to walk away? You think he won’t demand to be part of their lives?”
“They’re his sons. He has a right—”
“He has a right to nothing until you decide he does. Those boys are yours, Aurelia. You raised them. You protected them. Don’t throw that away just because you can’t stay away from the man who knocked you up six years ago.”
The words are harsh enough to sting.
“I know what I’m doing,” I say quietly.
“No, you don’t. You’re playing with fire and pretending you won’t get burned.”
We stare at each other across his study, and I can see the genuine concern in his face. He’s not trying to control me. He’s trying to protect me.
But it doesn’t change anything.
“I’ll be more careful,” I say finally.
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s all I can promise.” I leave before he can respond.
Upstairs, I check on the twins. They’re both asleep, tangled in their blankets, faces peaceful in the dim light from the hallway. I stand in the doorway watching them breathe and wonder how much longer I can keep this up.
How many more lies?
How many more secret meetings?
How much longer before everything falls apart?