CHAPTER 8
Lanterns
I lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The room settles into silence again. My phone rests on my chest and Dominic’s name is still glowing on the screen. For a long moment I just stare at it. Part of me wants to ignore it. Pretend the message doesn’t exist.
But the other part, the part that still aches for him—wins.
I press call. The phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. Each second settles heavier than the last. Then the call goes to voicemail. This is Dominic Vale, please leave a message. I close my eyes. Of course. I wait for the beep.
“Hey,” I say softly. My voice sounds strange and thin. Like it belongs to someone else. “I just… I saw your message. I’m okay. I’m in New York. I made it safely.”
I pause.
There are so many things I want to say. Why? Why would you do that to me? What did I do wrong? But the words stay trapped somewhere in my throat. So instead I say quietly, “I’m calling it a night.”
Then I hang up. The silence in the room presses down harder now.
The ache returns immediately because the worst part is, I still love him.
Or at least I think I do. I don’t understand how someone who loves you can still break you like that.
I stare at the phone again and part of me wants to call him back.
Demand answers. Force him to explain. My thumb hovers over his name.
Then I stop. Instead, I scroll down. Clara. I press call and she answers on the second ring. “Okay,” she says immediately. “What happened.”
I blink. “Hello to you too.”
“I know that tone. Spill.”
I sigh and sit up, leaning back against the headboard. “Well… a lot.”
There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the line. “I’m sitting down,” Clara says. “Proceed.”
So I tell her about the flight, about the guy on the plane who stole my seat, about the bar, about Lucien, about the cemetery, about the kiss. There’s silence for exactly two seconds.
Then Clara gasps. “YOU KISSED HIM?”
I pull the phone away from my ear. “Can you not scream?”
“I absolutely cannot not scream. Era, you kissed the mysterious hot guy?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It was exactly like that.”
I rub my forehead. “It was complicated.”
“Oh my God,” Clara breathes. “You met a handsome stranger in New York, he’s the owner of your company, he took you to a cemetery, confessed his tragic love story, and then kissed you?”
When she says it like that, it sounds insane. “That sounds bad,” I mutter.
“That sounds romantic.”
I groan. “I’m still married.”
“Barely,” Clara says immediately.
“Clara—”
“No. Absolutely not. Don’t ‘Clara’ me.” Her voice softens slightly. “You walked in on your husband cheating on you, Era.”
A tight, invisible weight presses in on me. “I know.”
“You deserve more than that.”
I stare at the dark window across the room and the city lights flicker far below. “I still love him,” I whisper.
Clara is quiet for a moment. “I know you do,” she says gently. “But loving someone doesn’t mean you have to stay where they broke you.”
My throat tightens. I blink hard.
“And besides,” she adds, suddenly giddy again, “this Lucien situation sounds extremely promising.”
I laugh despite myself.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m realistic.” She says.
“You don’t even know him.”
“Does he have a tragic backstory and good cheekbones?”
“…Yes.”
“Perfect. I approve.”
I shake my head, smiling despite the heaviness in my chest.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Correct,” Clara says proudly. Then her voice softens again. “But Era?”
“Yeah?”
“You deserve someone who looks at you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to them.”
My mind flashes to Lucien in the hallway. The way he looked at me before he kissed me. My chest does something strange.
“Get some sleep,” Clara says gently. “Tomorrow is going to be interesting.”
I exhale slowly.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
“I love you,” Clara says.
I smile softly.
“I love you more.”
After we hang up, I set the phone on the nightstand and the room falls quiet again.
But this time, the silence feels a little less heavy.
* * *
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. It’s 7:03am , dragging me out of sleep slowly, like surfacing through heavy water. I squint at the screen.
Dominic. Voicemail. Something inside me knots up before I even press play. His voice fills the quiet room.
“Hey, babe.” For a moment, hearing him say it almost hurts more than the betrayal itself. “I just got out of surgery. Long night. You know how it is.” He sounds… normal. Casual. Like nothing happened. “I miss you,” he continues. “The house feels weird without you.”
I sit up slowly in bed, the sheets sliding down to my lap. “Call me when you wake up, okay? And try not to have too much fun in New York without me.” There’s a small laugh in his voice. “Although I know you. You’re probably already charming half the city.”
A pause.
“I can’t wait until you get back. I’ve got plans for us.
” The message ends and I stare at the phone in silence.
Not even a hint of guilt, not a crack in his voice, nothing.
He’s so good at sounding normal that it makes something ugly crawl through my chest. It makes me wonder how long he’s been this good at hiding things.
How many more women there might have been before her.
I set the phone down and push myself out of bed.
The shower clears some of the fog in my head.
I get dressed quickly, simple work clothes, hair down again without really thinking about it.
By the time I step into the hallway, I’m already rehearsing how to survive another day pretending everything is normal.
Then the door across from mine opens.
Lucien.
We both pause at the exact same moment. He leans casually against the doorframe, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well,” he says, amused, “I was starting to think you’d been waiting outside my door this whole time.”
I laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late.” He smirks.
He locks his door and falls into step beside me as we head toward the elevator. The ride down is quiet but comfortable, the kind of silence that doesn’t need filling. Outside, the morning air is cool and sharp. Lucien lifts a hand, flagging down a taxi like he’s done it a thousand times.
We slide into the back seat. The city moves past the windows, horns, traffic, people rushing toward their own lives. For a moment neither of us says anything. Then I feel it.
His hand. Gently slipping into mine. Like it belongs there.
I glance at him, but he doesn’t look back.
His gaze stays on the street ahead while his thumb slowly moves across my knuckles.
I don’t pull away. Instead, I let my fingers curl around his.
When the taxi stops outside the office building, he’s still holding my hand.
We step out onto the sidewalk together, and he doesn’t let go.
We walk toward the entrance like that. Until I see Andrew standing near the doors.
Watching.
I slip my hand out of Lucien’s quickly. He notices immediately, but instead of looking annoyed, his mouth curves slightly. As we walk closer, he leans toward me just enough that his voice drops low. “I’ve never really been anyone’s secret,” he murmurs.
His eyes flick toward Andrew for a brief second before returning to mine. “But I have to admit…” A slow smile spreads across his face. “I kind of like being yours.”
I spend most of the day trying to avoid Lucien or at least attempting to.
Normally I’m very good at avoiding people.
Years of social awkwardness have turned it into a survival skill.
But today my brain refuses to cooperate.
Every time someone walks past the glass offices, my eyes drift up automatically, searching.
Looking for him.
Which is how I completely miss half of what Andrew is saying. “Era.” I blink. Andrew is standing across from me, arms crossed, frustration clearly tightening his jaw. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh,” I say automatically. But my eyes are already drifting past him again, scanning the hallway.
Andrew exhales sharply. “You’re not focused today. At all. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this is the third time I’ve had to repeat myself.”
“Uh-huh,” I say again, nodding vaguely.
His expression darkens. “Era.” My attention is still somewhere behind him, trying to catch a glimpse of Lucien through the moving bodies in the corridor. Andrew’s voice snaps louder. “Era! Have you heard a word I’ve said?”
My head jerks back toward him. “Yes.” His eyebrow lifts skeptically. “You said the projections from the second quarter need to be cross-checked with the revised revenue sheets before 3pm’s presentation because the numbers don’t align with the forecast.”
Andrew pauses.
“…Correct.” He looks slightly surprised. Then suspicious. He opens his mouth, clearly preparing something snarky. “You know Era, I—“
“Hey, Era.” A deep voice interrupts and both of us turn. Lucien is standing in the doorway and the room suddenly feels smaller. “Do you have a moment?” he asks casually.
Andrew straightens immediately. “Lucien. James is assigned to be your secretary. Anything Era knows how to do, James can do too. Probably three times better.”
Lucien’s expression doesn’t change. “Actually,” he says smoothly, “we’re switching.”
Andrew frowns. “Switching?”
“You’re taking James.” Lucien gestures lightly toward me. “Era, come with me.”
Andrew shakes his head immediately. “No, we can’t do that. Era has a project—”
Lucien tilts his head slightly. “You just said James does it three times better.”
Andrew blinks.
Lucien’s gaze shifts to me.
“Era.”