Chapter 111

The crisp morning air carried the scent of pine as Lillian stepped onto the balcony of Sebastian Blackwood’s sprawling estate. The sun had barely risen, casting a golden hue over the dense forest that bordered the property. She inhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly.

Last night had been a disaster.

Donovan’s sudden appearance at the gala, his smug smirk as he paraded Evelyn around like some prized possession—it had taken every ounce of Lillian’s self-control not to shift right then and there. The memory still made her claws itch beneath her skin.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

“Lillian?” Beatrice’s voice was muffled through the wood. “You awake?”

Lillian sighed, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, come in.”

The door creaked open, and Beatrice slipped inside, her dark curls bouncing as she crossed the room. She held two steaming mugs, the rich aroma of coffee filling the space between them.

“Thought you could use this,” Beatrice said, handing her one.

Lillian took it gratefully, the warmth seeping into her fingers. “Thanks.”

Beatrice leaned against the railing beside her, studying her face. “You look like hell.”

Lillian snorted. “Feel like it too.”

Silence settled between them, comfortable but heavy with unspoken words. Beatrice had always been the one person who could read her like an open book.

“He’s not worth it, you know,” Beatrice finally said, her voice softer now. “Donovan, I mean.”

Lillian’s grip tightened around the mug. “I know.”

But knowing and believing were two different things.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, followed by the cheerful chatter of Oliver, Sebastian’s seven-year-old son. The boy bounded into the room, his bright eyes alight with excitement.

“Lillian! Beatrice! You’re both up!” He grinned, his small frame practically vibrating with energy. “Dad says we’re going riding today! You’re coming, right?”

Lillian forced a smile, pushing her dark thoughts aside. “Of course we are.”

Oliver whooped in delight before dashing off, likely to spread the news to the rest of the household.

Beatrice smirked. “Kid’s got more energy before breakfast than I do all day.”

Lillian chuckled, but her amusement faded as her gaze drifted back to the forest. Somewhere out there, Donovan was probably gloating about how he’d moved on so effortlessly.

And yet, despite everything, a part of her still ached.

Beatrice nudged her shoulder. “Hey. Forget about him. Today’s a new day.”

Lillian took another sip of coffee, the bitterness grounding her. “Yeah. A new day.”

But as she glanced toward the stables where Sebastian was already waiting, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—was about to change everything. Again.

The sound of running water pulled me from sleep. I blinked, disoriented, before reality crashed back—I was naked in Sebastian Blackwood’s bed.

Last night had been a blur of exhaustion and reckless abandon. I’d collapsed into sleep without a second thought, only to wake up feeling more rested than I had in months. And then there were the orgasms—earth-shattering, mind-numbing, unlike anything I’d ever experienced. My body still hummed with the aftershocks, every nerve alight with the memory of his touch.

I glanced at the empty space beside me. The sheets were rumpled, still warm where Sebastian had lain. A traitorous smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it.

This was wrong.

Sebastian was my boss. Worse, he was the father of my ex-mate’s fiancée. Every logical part of my brain screamed that this was a disaster waiting to happen. And yet… I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

But it couldn’t happen again.

My life was already a wreck. My father was in prison. Donovan was blackmailing me. Evelyn wanted to befriend me. And now I’d slept with her father.

Perfect.

The shower shut off. Panic flared, and I scrambled from the bed, grabbing the nearest blanket to cover myself. It was ridiculous—shifters had no real modesty, and Sebastian had seen every inch of me last night—but the morning light made everything feel too raw, too exposed.

The bathroom door swung open, steam rolling out like a scene from a fantasy.

And oh, what a fantasy he was.

Sebastian stepped into the room, a towel slung low around his hips, water glistening on his sculpted torso. My mouth went dry. His abs were a work of art, droplets trailing down the ridges before vanishing beneath the towel. My gaze dipped lower, catching the unmistakable outline of his arousal.

How—?

Had last night not been enough? Or was that just… him?

My cheeks burned as my eyes traveled back up, lingering on the dark hair dusting his chest, still damp from the shower. I wanted to run my fingers through it, taste the water on his skin—

A deep chuckle snapped me back to reality.

"Enjoying the view?" Sebastian’s voice was rough with amusement, one brow arched as he caught me staring.

Heat flooded my face.

"Or," he continued, stepping closer, "do you need a closer look?"

His smirk was pure sin.

And damn it all, I was tempted.

His words struck me like a physical blow, leaving me speechless. How could he tease me so casually? Didn’t he see the turmoil inside me? He had taken something irreplaceable—my innocence. And I had let him.

The weight of that realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. I would never be able to offer my purity to a future mate, not anymore. That choice had been stolen from me the moment I surrendered to him. My legs trembled beneath me, threatening to give way, as if they had turned to stone.

"Last night was a mistake," I whispered, more to myself than to him. But of course, with his heightened Lycan hearing, Sebastian caught every word.

His piercing gaze darkened, and for a fleeting second, I thought I glimpsed something raw—hurt, maybe?—before his expression shuttered completely.

"I asked you if you were sure," he reminded me, his voice low and controlled.

"And I was," I admitted quickly, desperate to clarify. "But now I realize this can’t happen again. You’re my boss. And Donovan’s future father-in-law."

At the mention of Donovan, his jaw tightened. Was it the thought of his daughter’s engagement, or just the reminder of my past with him? I couldn’t tell, and I wasn’t about to ask.

"We should pretend this never happened," I continued, forcing myself to meet his eyes. "From now on, we keep things strictly professional."

For a long moment, he just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sharp exhale, he nodded. His face turned cold, distant—like a door slamming shut between us.

"Fine," he finally said, his tone clipped. "But you’re not leaving like that."

He turned away, rummaging through a drawer before pulling out a plain black T-shirt—his size, which meant it would swallow me whole. He tossed it to me without another word, then grabbed his own clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me standing there, clutching the fabric like a lifeline.

The silence that followed was deafening.