Wren

The only thing worse than Ms. Squeaky's cleavage on display at 9 AM was knowing I couldn't say what I really thought. So I didn't. Until she opened her mouth.

"I'm looking for my lovely Leander. Tell him Serene is back waiting for him." She tapped her nails on the counter.

Darn. Must she always show her annoying face here? She disgusts me. As usual, she's in a short bum dress with her cleavage fully on display and an annoyingly smug look. I admit, she's pretty and has curves. No wonder she gets the boss's attention.

I pinched the bridge of my nostrils, thinking back to her age and my boss, who's almost twice her age. Could she be less shameless. I shook my head before her high-pitched voice cut in again.

"Could you spare me a second? I'm sorry—"

"Don't you fucking open your mouth and tell me he's not around. I swear I'll fuck you up if I hear something of that sort." She cut me off.

"Before you cut me short—I'm sorry... heck no. You don't even deserve it. The boss is having a short nap and asked that personal meetings be held later. And yes, before you open that mouth of yours again, make sure you know who you're dealing with, Miss..." I looked her up and down.

"You... how... you!" She was stunned.

"You can't even think straight enough to form a sentence. Are you that dumb? You either shut up and wait or—"

"Wren!"

My heart skipped. That face has been haunting me for months. I know I shouldn't be rude to his visitors. But Ms. Squeaky is extra.

I counted to three and turned to meet my boss's gaze. His eyes sent chills down my spine.

"Meet me before you leave."

He looked me up and down, then turned back to his office, Miss Squeaky strutting behind him.

Those five words sent my brain whirling. I could have kept my mouth shut.

My boss isn't your typical friendly boss. If he dislikes you, he'll make it known. I doubt he has a heart. All he does is shout, frown, and ignore everyone. I hope I didn't go too far this time—it isn't my first warning.

I sighed, remembering when I mocked his 'guest' and he punished me with nine hours of work without a seat. The only good thing was Raphael's kisses on my forehead when I got home. That night, he massaged my temples and feet until I felt good. Could everyone be like my babe? Sigh.

Later, my body ached so badly I slumped in my chair. That's when my eyes fell on her—lip gloss smeared on her lips, messy hair, a satisfied smug look, her heels clicking irritably. God knows what went on in that office.

I pity his next target.

My mind drifted back to his cold words. I wasn't wrong, though. This is an office, not a place to man-whore around. Being decent is all it takes.

He never spares them a glance. Can he treat a woman right? I bet he couldn't. That beasty, proud, cold boss. At least my boyfriend will comfort me if—

A tap on my desk. Livie waved goodbye.

"C'mon, are you going somewhere?" I eyed her bag.

"Do you have amnesia? It's time. I need to get home. Bye—don't forget to clear the desk." She left.

I checked the time. We're closing early. Apparently, my boss said, "I'll be getting some renovations done."

Who closes workers during working hours for renovations? Hump.

I hate going back to him, but I can't risk getting fired.

The floor to his office was quiet. I stayed at the entrance for a minute, trying to muster courage.

A few knocks. A chilling "come in."

The room was dark from interior painting. Everything smelled like him. The moment his piercing eyes met mine, my body froze. I moved slowly to his desk, not noticing him stand and get closer.

He cleared his throat.

"You've got a rough mouth, you know that?"

I stood still, averting my gaze.

"I hired you to work. Not to be a nosy little girl." He strode closer. "It's time I taught you a lesson. Don't you think, Miss...?"

"I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again." I looked down.

"Look at me when I talk to you."

I raised my head. For a second, something flashed in his stare—then vanished, leaving a colder gaze.

"I'm sorry, pardon me this time—"

"It's unfortunate. You'll have to learn not to get involved with my personal matters."

My hands shook. Every nerve stood at attention, screaming something I couldn't name. I didn't register how close he'd gotten until I felt the warmth radiating off his chest.

We were too close.

A real fear, cold and sharp, sliced through me. Not of what he might do—but of what I might let him do. Of the part of me that didn't want him to stop.

My breath shortened. I should have stepped back. But my feet refused. All I could think about was the way he smelled—clean, dark, with an undercurrent of something expensive and dangerous, like cedar and whiskey and the faint ghost of his cologne clinging to my skin from sheer proximity.

He is your boss. Cold. Difficult. Off limits.

It didn't help.

I was a second away from excusing myself when his hand came up and his lips found mine.

There was nothing gentle about it. He kissed me like he'd been waiting for this—waiting for an excuse. His hand fisted in my hair at the nape of my neck, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to say don't move. His other palm pressed flat against the small of my back, pulling me into him until there was no air between us. His teeth caught my bottom lip—a sharp tug, then the brief, shocking heat of his tongue over the same spot, like an apology that wasn't one. I tasted copper and something darker, something that was just him—salt and heat and the faint mint of whatever he'd had before I walked in.

It should have snapped me out of it. Instead, my body responded before my brain could intervene—leaning in, giving back, forgetting every sensible thing I'd told myself.

Then my mind caught up.

I pushed against his chest with everything I had. When he barely moved, something in me surged—my palm connected with his cheek before I even made the decision.

The sound cracked through the room.

He stumbled back, more from surprise than force, and looked at me like I'd just become someone entirely new.

"The f—"

I didn't wait. My eyes were already burning. I ran.

Wren

After I rushed out of embarrassment or what felt like sweet shame, I was so thankful the workers who left late did not notice me. I wiped my eyes and felt a rush of heat on my cheeks.

Was that tears of regret or something more...

I did like it, but—

And then it hit me... fuck! I had a boyfriend. How do I face him after what just happened? It's not like he was around when it occurred. But I wouldn't want the guilt to eat me up.

...He's sweet. He'll definitely understand.

"Taxi—" I hailed the cab and gave him my direction.

I noticed the stolen glances the driver shot at me. He was probably thinking I got dumped.

"Miss, you okay?" He looked through the rearview mirror with concern written on his face.

I wiped my face and calmly tried not to reveal my worries. After all, he's a stranger.

"Yeah... yes, I am. Why don't I look okay?" I queried, to be sure not to scare him—or myself.

"Well, you look like hell broke loose on you. But since you said you're fine, then that's good."

He increased the volume of the afrobeat that was playing, for which I was thankful. Minutes into the ride, I heard him call out my destination and indicate we had arrived.

I sat in the car longer than I needed to. Just breathing and hoping what happened wouldn't change things between us.

Finally, I grabbed my bag and stepped out.

The first thing I noticed was the door unlocked.

I stood there for a second, turning my key over in my fingers. I knew I'd locked it. I always lock it. But then again — it could be him or Vivienne.

My heart did that stupid little lift it always does at the thought of him being home. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe I'd walk in, kick off my shoes, and just fall into him for a while. God knows I needed that.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Then I saw the light upstairs bleeding under the door.

That gave me a small pause. I'm not the type to leave lights on — never have been. Could've been him, though. He was always forgetting things like that. I shook it off and started up the stairs, already thinking about what to order for dinner.

I was halfway up when I stopped.

I don't know what made me stop exactly. But my ears were too sharp for the not-so-loud sound. More like something that I didn't think would have happened. It was a rhythm, low and muffled, seeping through the door. My brain tried to reroute it.

But the television wasn't on. He hardly plays any music. Or, the naughty side of me got a hold on me. Realizing—it could be a surprise for me… something reasonable.

But then I heard his voice.

"You're so tight… I've never felt this good in forever."

"Mnn… I… arghh… You're so hot pounding inside me. Fuck… harder."

My mind went blank.

The more I listened, the more everything felt dazed.

No. No, that — he wouldn't. He said he wouldn't. He looked me in my eyes and said it. I stood there with my back pressed against the wall outside that door, breathing like the air had suddenly thinned, telling myself I'd heard wrong. That I was exhausted and paranoid, and my mind was filling in gaps that weren't there.

My hand shook on the knob. Every instinct screamed at me to turn around, to walk out, to pretend I hadn't heard a thing. But my body wouldn't listen.

I pushed the door open anyway.

And there it was. The only man I have ever loved. The only man I was willing to take risks for, willing to ruin my body for — tangled up with my half sister. On my bed. In my house.

The room smelled of sweat and her cheap perfume—the one I'd bought her for her birthday.

"..... when the fuck did you two get cozy enough to fuck on my bed and in my house?" I said, trying as much as possible to sound casual. My chest felt tight, and my fingers began twitching, but the last thing on my mind was getting weak. Not here, not now, and definitely not in front of them.

"Fuck... it—"

"It... it... cat got your tongue?" I finished the sentence, watching him push her away from his body, making her butt hit the cold floor and a sore "ouch" escaped her lips.

"Oh c'mon, Wren, don't act like you would have given him the chance to screw you." My half-sister, Vivienne, shrugged the words out like they were completely normal voices.

"Screw me?" Rage burned up my throat. Not only did I see her skin-to-skin with my fiancé, but she's actually behaving like it was nothing. I can't blame her. I mean, she gave me reasons to see her true self. I guess I was too focused on seeing the good and ignored the negatives. I had for a moment forgotten about... not until I felt his fingers brush my arm.

"Wren, I swear it's just this once. Not like you'd care. See, I love you. Just pretend that you never saw this and it never happened." Disgusted by his hands on me, I swatted them away and looked past him at her, who barely looked like she was going to put on anything for now. The audacity.

"You're my fiancé, for man's sake. Not like I care? What the fuck do you take me for... a fool?" My chest tightened more, with my left fist balled and my knuckles itching to punch that mouth of his for the filth coming out of it.

"To think, I trusted you both and loved you both. Is this what I get in return?" My legs felt wobbly, but I wasn't going to fall weak in front of them. It would prove their victory.

"Tsk... he never loved you, did he?" She asked, her pretense vanished, and the only thing left was raw facts.

"Let me tell you. The reason he accepted to be with you was because I asked him to. You were just convenient." She paused and gave a dark laugh.

Wren

"Oh, you actually thought he cared about you. Lean, don't pity this bitch. Not like she would do anything."

She wrapped her hands around Raphael's neck and pressed kisses on his body, all while fixing her gaze on me like I was something she'd already stepped over.

This was the last thread of patience I had left. But just a little longer.

I needed to know when this started—when the two people I loved most decided I was dispensable. I looked into his eyes.

He looked at the wall, the floor, and Vivienne. Anything but me.

"How long, Raphael?" My voice came out steady. Calm like still water before something drowns in it. "How long has this been going on?"

He said nothing.

"Was I that bad to you? Where did I go wrong?" The question burned coming out. One tear slipped before I could catch it. I hated that they got to see it.

"Just be honest with me. Be a man for once."

He exhaled through his nose like I was boring him. "Would that even change anything, Wren?"

I stared at him. "I'm sor—"

"No." The word shot out. For a second I thought it was guilt talking. "No, you're not sorry. You're just caught."

He finally looked at me. What I found in his eyes was worse than anger. It was nothing. Pure, unbothered nothingness.

"You want the truth? Fine. Everything about you is exhausting. You love too loudly, you give too much, you never push back... you just take whatever I give you and smile. You made yourself so easy, Wren. So available. Like you were auditioning to be needed."

My mouth fell open.

"And somehow with all that bending over backwards—you still couldn't give me the one thing I actually wanted." His jaw tightened. "Figure that out."

"So that's your excuse," I said quietly.

"It's not an excuse. It's just the truth you didn't want to hear." He pulled Vivienne closer against him without even looking at her, like she was already just a habit. "We were keeping company, Wren. That's all it ever was. I don't know why you turned it into something it wasn't."

Three years. Night outs, holidays, and a shared bit of intimacy. All just keeping company? I stumbled against the doorframe and caught myself.

"I don't need to keep pretending. Let's just end this." No guilt. He pulled her further into his side. Vivienne tilted her head at me with the softest, most poisonous smile I had ever seen.

Something in me went very, very quiet. The kind of quiet that comes right before clarity.

"You know what—" I steadied myself on the doorframe. "No. You don't get to stand in my house. In my bed. With my blood. And then be the one who walks away clean. That's not how this ends."

"Wren, I just—"

"I'm dumping you. Say whatever you want, but from this moment, I ended this. I walked away. You don't get that from me."

"Yes, he is—" Vivienne started.

"I don't remember asking you." I didn't even look at her.

My mind was already moving a thousand ways to make sure they remembered this moment longer than I did.

"Since the two of you are so comfortable here, enjoy it. But when I come back, every trace of both of you better be gone. Clothes. Keys. Anything with your names. I want to walk back into this house and find nothing."

I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob, turned one last time, and looked at them—the two people I had loved without condition. Then I walked out.

Three steps down the hall, Vivienne's voice followed me.

"Not too soon, Wren."

I turned back. She was seething.

"I don't think I need to hold back. Since you know now, why aren't you fighting? And you know I'm your sister—"

"Half-sister."

"—It doesn't change the fact that you're responsible for me. I have nowhere to go. This apartment was a gift. I'm not leaving."

"You are, Vivienne. It was my gift, not yours."

"Oh please, spare me that. Either you stay with me or you move instead. Figure it out."

The exhaustion hit me like a weight. "Fine. I'll leave."

"Deal, bye." She blew me a victorious kiss with a devilish smirk.

With one last look, I opened the door and walked into nowhere.

*****

My feet moved down the stairs, through the lobby, past the security guard who looked up and then away—like he could sense that whatever was happening to me was not something he wanted to be near.

The door swung shut. Night air hit my face. I didn't go back for my bag. Going back meant seeing that apartment again, and I was done.

It started raining four minutes in. Cold drops slid down my scalp and into my collar. I didn't run. One foot, then the next. A taxi slowed, then pulled away when I didn't raise my hand.

I must have looked insane. I probably was.

I kept walking because stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant falling apart on a public street. I checked my wallet in a doorway—enough for a meal, not enough for a room.

I stood there for a long moment.

Then my feet, making decisions without me, turned left. Toward Harrow & Steele.

I tried to talk myself out of it. I reminded myself of every cold, unreasonable thing that man had done—his mouth on mine, his teeth, the sharp bloom of pain, the way I'd hit him and run like my life depended on it. I had slapped my boss across the face this afternoon. Walking back toward his building, soaking wet and homeless, was arguably the worst idea I had ever had.

My feet didn't care.

The building came into view—glass and dark steel, upper floors still lit. Of course, he was still there, working at an hour when normal people had gone home. The lobby lights were warm through the glass. I stood across the street for a moment, hair flat against my face, water dripping off my jacket. Then I crossed.

The revolving door was heavy. I pushed through. The warmth hit me like a wall—clean, familiar air.

I took three steps toward the elevator.

"Ma'am." The security guard stepped out. "Building access is restricted after hours. Do you have your ID pass?"

I patted my jacket. Nothing. It was upstairs on my desk. I'd run out the side entrance and hadn't—

"I work here. Wren Osei, executive assistant, fourth floor. I don't have my card."

"I understand." He wasn't unkind. That made it worse. "Without verification, I can't allow access. If you'd like to call someone who can come down—"

"I don't have—" I stopped. I was not going to cry in this lobby. Not in front of this man. Not after this day.

"I work here," I said again, quieter. "I just need to—"

"Miss Wren."

Standing a few feet from the elevator doors was my boss. Leander.

A cold spike of fear and something else... relief?—shot through my chest. His eyes traveled over me soaked, shaking, broken—and for once, he didn't look cold.

He looked at me like he was seeing someone else entirely.

Shit.