Chapter 1
The safe house was a modest two-bedroom in a quiet suburban neighborhood — white picket fence, perfectly trimmed lawn, the kind of place that screamed “normal couple starting their life together.” Layla and I had been silent most of the drive, the weight of the situation hanging between us.
Now we were standing in the empty living room with a few boxes the Marshals had delivered ahead of us.
I set my duffel bag down and looked around. “This is home for the foreseeable future. We should unpack and get settled before anyone gets suspicious.”
Layla nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was still shy, quieter than usual, her arms wrapped around herself. “Yeah… okay. I’ll take the bedroom if that’s alright.”
We started unpacking in silence at first. I carried boxes into the master bedroom while she organized the kitchen.
It felt strangely domestic — me hanging clothes in the closet, her putting dishes away.
Every time our paths crossed, there was this awkward awareness.
We were supposed to be husband and wife now. Sharing space. Sharing a bed.
I was taping up an empty box in the living room when a knock came at the front door.
Layla froze, eyes wide. This was it — our first real test.
I gave her a small nod and opened the door. A friendly woman in her fifties stood on the porch with a plate of cookies and a big smile.
“Hi! I’m Karen from next door. Saw the moving truck earlier and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!”
I slipped into the role immediately, putting on a warm smile and sliding my arm around Layla’s waist as she stepped up beside me. “Hi, Karen. I’m Ryder. This is my wife, Layla.”
Layla leaned into me naturally, her hand resting on my chest. She gave Karen a shy but sweet smile. “It’s so nice to meet you. We just got married a couple months ago, so this is all still pretty new for us.”
I squeezed her waist gently, playing the proud husband. “Yeah, we’re excited to start our life here. The neighborhood looks perfect.”
Karen beamed. “Oh, you two are adorable! Newlyweds — how romantic. If you need anything at all, just knock. I made these cookies for you.”
We chatted for a few minutes — keeping the cover story simple, laughing at the right moments, acting every bit the happy young married couple. Layla even rested her head on my shoulder at one point, her body warm against mine. It felt… natural. Too natural.
When Karen finally left, I closed the door and let out a slow breath. Layla stayed pressed against my side for a second longer than necessary before stepping back, cheeks slightly pink.
“That was… weirdly easy,” she said softly, looking up at me.
I nodded, still feeling the ghost of her body against mine.
“Yeah. A little too easy.”
Layla stayed close for a moment, her body still lightly pressed against my side from the neighbor’s visit. Then she stepped back, cheeks a soft pink, twisting her fingers together the way she did when she was nervous.
“That went okay, right?” she asked softly, her voice shy. “We sounded like a real married couple?”
I nodded, leaning against the wall. “Yeah. You did great, Layla. Natural.”
She bit her lip, looking down at the floor for a second before glancing back up at me with those big, uncertain eyes. The shyness was written all over her — the way she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, the slight flush on her cheeks.
“I was thinking…” she started, her voice quiet. “If we’re going to sell this… being newlyweds in love… we might have to do more than just hold hands and call each other husband and wife. People notice that stuff. The little things.”
She paused, swallowing hard, then forced herself to meet my eyes.
“Maybe… we should practice kissing? Just… so it doesn’t look awkward if we have to do it in front of people. It would be innocent. Just practice. For the cover.”
The words hung in the air between us. My stepsister — now legally my wife for the foreseeable future — standing in our new living room, shyly suggesting we practice kissing.
I studied her for a long moment, the tension in the room thickening. She looked so vulnerable, so unsure, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Curiosity. Maybe even want.
“Layla…” I said, my voice lower than I intended.
She took a small step closer, her fingers still twisting together.
“Just practice,” she repeated softly, almost like she was trying to convince herself as much as me. “So we’re ready. That’s all.”
The air felt heavier. The safe house suddenly felt a lot smaller.
Layla stood there in the middle of the living room, looking up at me with those big, shy eyes, her fingers still fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The suggestion hung between us like a live wire.
I studied her for a long moment, my pulse kicking up. This was dangerous territory. But the cover story had to be believable. And if I was being honest with myself… I wanted to.
“Alright,” I said, my voice lower, more controlled. “Come here, Layla.”
She took a hesitant step closer. I closed the distance, cupping her face gently with one hand, my thumb brushing her cheek. She was trembling just slightly — that shy nervousness I’d always found so endearing.
“Just practice,” I reminded her, though my tone made it clear I was in control. “For the cover.”
I leaned in slowly and pressed my lips to hers.
It started innocent — soft, careful, almost sweet. Layla’s breath hitched, but she kissed me back, her hands lightly resting on my chest. For a few seconds, it felt like we were just playing the part.
Then something shifted.
I deepened the kiss, tilting her head back and sliding my tongue along her lower lip.
She gasped softly and opened for me. The kiss grew hungrier, more intense.
I pulled her closer, one arm wrapping around her waist as I claimed her mouth with slow, deliberate strokes.
Layla whimpered against me, her hands fisting in my shirt as she melted into the kiss.
I backed her up against the wall, pressing my body into hers, dominating the kiss completely. She responded eagerly, shy at first but quickly growing bolder, her tongue meeting mine as soft little sounds escaped her.
When I finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard. Layla’s lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes were wide with a mix of surprise and something much hotter.
I kept her pinned against the wall, my forehead resting against hers.
“That was… good practice,” I said, voice rough.
Layla nodded, still catching her breath. “Yeah… really good practice.”
Neither of us moved away.