Naomi
“What did I just do?” The question tumbles out of my lips, again and again, as I pace back and forth in front of my bed, trying to catch my breath.
Panic claws at my chest, and I race into the bathroom and grip the edges of the sink, my fingers tightening like a lifeline keeping me from falling off the brink of sanity.
What the fuck did I just do?
Out of the corner of my eye, the sparkle of my engagement ring catches the light, mocking me. I rip the enormous rock off, feeling as if it might suffocate me, like it’s choking the air out of my lungs. Breaths come shallow, signaling the start of a panic attack.
I splash cold water over my face, letting it trickle down my neck and arms, hoping it’ll cool my turmoil.
Glancing in the mirror, I catch a glimpse of an angry purple splotch forming on my neck.
Is that a hickey?
A GODDAMN HICKEY!
Storming out of the bathroom, I snatch my phone off my desk before I sit at my vanity.
It's almost two in the morning, but I call Aisha anyway. She barely sleeps, and it’s even worse on nights when she doesn’t have morning clients.
I don’t know how she survives on two hours of sleep at a time, but I’m sure it’s tied to the obscene amounts of iced coffee she guzzles.
She picks up on the second ring. “Yello.”
“Hey, June,” I say, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder, my fingers examining the eyesore on my neck in the mirror.
“I was starting to think you forgot about me.” She giggles. “How did it go?”
I blink, the whirlwind of everything that happened rolling through me like a tsunami. It’s only been a day, but it feels like a lifetime. “It was…good,” I manage, nibbling my bottom lip.
“Okay, I’m gonna need more than just ‘good.’ What happened? Why do you sound like that?”
“He proposed, June,” I whisper, shutting my eyes as the memory of that moment threatens to suffocate me all over again. I force myself to inhale and exhale slowly.
“Oh. My. Gawd!” she practically screeches, hitting every syllable. “And you didn’t call me? YOU BITCH! How could you not tell me? A whole day went by, and you didn’t think to call your best friend? Sis, you’re getting married—”
Her frantic excitement drones on for what feels like forever, her words blending into static in my brain. I can’t even focus, and when I don’t respond for a while, she notices.
“Lady?” Her tone dips, quiet and filled with concern. The guilt rises, gnawing at my insides, but I swallow hard and force myself to respond.
“Yeah, June.”
“Okay, what’s happening right now? It’s 2 a.m., and I don’t want to come over there, but I will,” she threatens, a mix of humor and warning in her tone. I know she’s not lying; she will come over here if I don’t come up with something, anything.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the bile climbing up my throat. But my chest tightens as the memories of tonight rush in, uninvited.
That moment… God, I can still feel it. I came harder than I ever had in my entire life. He wasn’t gentle, and the orgasm was brutal. Best of all, he didn’t treat me like I was some fragile flower that might disintegrate under his touch. No, he gave me fire, intensity. And I fucking hate him for it.
Every word that fell from his lips…every hallowed kiss…
A shiver runs through me and I… can’t bring myself to tell her.
June would never judge, but she would want every dirty detail that I’m not ready to face.
“Earth to Naomi!” Her voice slices through my spiraling thoughts, pulling me back to the present.
“Look, June, I’m sorry. I guess it’s just the nerves,” I say, the lie tumbling out too easily. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to marry Christian. I just… I didn’t think he’d propose the first time he saw me again.”
“Yeah, no. I get that,” she replies softly, and something about her understanding tone makes my heart twist.
Aisha has always been the “walk a mile in someone’s shoes” type.
Super empathetic, always seeing things from every angle, always giving people the benefit of the doubt.
And I love her for it. But right now? It makes me feel like a terrible friend, using her empathy—her greatest strength—as a shield.
“Add that to the fact that I’m already planning two weddings…” I trail off, knowing she’ll fill in the blanks.
“Oh shit, yeah! Max and Tré!” she exclaims. “I totally forgot they’re both getting married too! Okay, look, don’t worry. I’ve got you. Super Maid of Honor to the rescue!” she declares, humming the Superman theme.
I giggle, but the sound feels hollow, my chest heavy with guilt.
Aisha’s not just my best friend—she’s the sister I never had.
A girl with all brothers and few close friends learns to cling to the real ones.
And she doesn’t even need me to ask her to be my Maid of Honor; she just knows.
Her unwavering love and loyalty make me feel like absolute shit.
“All right, Mrs. Cavanaugh,” she teases, her voice lighter now. “Try to get some sleep. We’re starting a rigorous skin regimen tomorrow with Lisa. No clients in the morning, right?”
“No,” I reply, shifting on my bed, “but I have one at 2 p.m., after their store closes in Milan.”
“Perfect! Plenty of time to see Lisa and stop by Mers.” She decides, contemplation heavy in her voice. “Yeah we can make that work. Love you. See you later.”
“Love you too, June. Night.”
When we hang up, my phone pings with a new message. My stomach twists when I see an unknown sender. Immediately, I start to pace as I read the message.
Unknown:
You naughty girl. It hasn’t even been 24 hours and you’re letting another man touch you? I wonder what your fiancé would do if he knew.
My thumbs hover over the screen for a moment before I fire back.
Me:
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Unknown:
Oh... no?
1 video
My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach—I need to sit. Lowering myself onto my plush bed, I press play on a video of Jaxon and I, caught in 4K.
There is no denying it’s me in that video—especially from the angle that it was taken from, a bird’s eye view.
I watch in horror, as I roll my hips, straddling Jaxon's face. What’s worse is the look on my face—pure, blissed-out, ecstasy.
My head is thrown back in rapture as Jaxon peers up at me, his tongue soothing my suffering.
Me:
Where did you get this?
Unknown:
Don’t you think the better question is, how? Maybe I should come in there so we can make one of our own.
Me:
You wouldn’t dare. Not with my bodyguard here.
The words are bold, but I know they’re a lie. He couldn’t care less who is home with me or not, he’ll come in here if he wants. The memory of it sends a shiver of excitement rippling down my spine, though I’ll never admit. Almost as if he can read my mind, another message pings.
Unknown:
Then maybe you can show us both what a filthy girl you are.
I glance toward my door, heart thudding against my ribs, a slow heat blooming in my lower belly like smoke curling from a lit match.
I shouldn’t want this. I know I shouldn’t.
But the memory of his presence—how he never waits for permission, how he moves through my space like it’s his—sends an ache straight to the center of me.
My gaze falls back to the message, to the line that won’t stop echoing in my head: Letting another man touch you.
I read it once. Then again. And again. Shame creeps in, tightening around my spine like a vice.
But beneath it, something darker stirs—need, curiosity, hunger.
What if they both touched me?
Wait, no…what the fuck?
How fucking messed up am I? To even think about two separate people in one night after I just got engaged—someone needs to drown me in holy water.
Me:
You can’t just talk to me any way you want.
Unknown:
Oh, but of course. My apologies, let me humble myself before you. I’d gladly get on my knees.
Me:
Just Stop!
I launch my phone across the room and it cracks against the molding, but I don’t even bother assessing the damage. The truth is, there were so many times I could have stopped Jaxon. So many times I could have pulled away. But I didn’t.
He bent my body to his will and watched me unravel. He watched me give in—his stormy eyes filled with awe and astonishment—with not an ounce of remorse.
And all I needed was a nudge, and suddenly, the lines between right and wrong didn’t seem so clear anymore.
I sigh, resting back against my pillows with only one thought: Jaxon Knox is going to be the death of me.
I don’t sleep a wink, so by the time nine rolls around, dragging myself out of bed feels like torture. Normally, mornings don’t kick my ass like this, but after a night of overthinking and no rest, it feels like I’m climbing a mountain.
We flesh out a rough plan to get to Lisa by noon.
Lisa Young, our Estie Bestie, is easily the coolest and sweetest esthetician in all of L.A.
Lisa has been taking care of our skin for years, since back when she was working out of her tiny apartment.
When she finally got her own storefront, I was the first person she called to help plan out the space.
Her mom was a huge part of that process, too.
Even after weeks of planning and research, nothing felt right until her mother weighed in.
It was worth it.
Two years later, when Lisa’s mom passed, her memory was already etched into every corner of Xia—Lisa’s amazing shop. Now, her legacy lives on, not just in Lisa’s heart but in her business, too.
I shove my feet into bunny slippers that are there as soon as I swing my feet off the bed.
Pausing, I tilt my head. I swear I left these in my office the other night.
But honestly, I’m too tired to even take that on and just shake it off.
Stretching, I shuffle toward my closet when my phone sounds from the corner of the room where it slid last night.
Does the motherfucker not sleep? Does he have a camera trained on me?