Page 23 of Misconducts & Temptation

I rushed to the back of the house, my breath visible in the cold night air. My hands fumbled with the gate latch, slick with moisture and trembling from adrenaline. Finally, it clicked open, and I slipped inside, shutting it behind me with a quiet thud.

I took out my keys. They were slippery in my hands, and I cursed under my breath as they slipped from my grasp and clattered onto the ground. I quickly bent down, scooping them up with shaking fingers. My heart pounded as I inserted the key into the lock of the backdoor and turned it. The door creaked open, and I stepped inside, carefully closing and locking it behind me.

I darted up the stairs, my footsteps light but hurried. The familiar creaks of the old wooden steps seemed louder in the quiet house. Just as I reached my room, I heard the front door swing open. Panic surged through me.

No time to change.

I dove under my covers, yanking out the bun that held my hair tightly against my scalp. The strands cascaded around my face just as I closed my eyes. My heart still raced when the door to my room burst open, Annabelle and Stephanie pouring in like a flood.

"See?" Annabelle's voice was smug. "I told you she was here. Where would she even go?"

I forced myself to pretend to wake up slowly, blinking groggily at them.

"Stephanie? Annabelle? What time is it?" My voice came out hoarse, as if I'd been asleep for hours.

Stephanie crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at me. "You've been here the whole time?"

Annabelle glanced at her sister before adding, "She doesn't have friends, Steph."

"How was it?" I asked, rubbing my eyes for effect. "The masquerade?"

"Fine." Stephanie raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Don't think you're off the hook for tomorrow’s chores. If anything, expect to do double since I'm sure we'll be sleeping in."

"Of course," I murmured, sinking back into the pillows.

Annabelle turned on her heel first, pulling Stephanie with her. "Come on," she said dismissively. "I still didn't tell you about Damien's tongue down my throat."

"Damien Sinclaire? That is such bullshit, Annabelle."

As they exited and shut the door behind them, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Safe for now.

I waited a few more minutes, listening to the muffled sounds of Annabelle and Stephanie retreating to their rooms. The house settled into its usual quiet, the faint hum of distant traffic filtering through the walls.

Slowly, I crawled out of bed and tiptoed to my closet. I slipped out of my dress, careful not to make any noise. Hanging up my mother’s dress with gentle hands, I placed it at the back, hidden behind my everyday clothes. It felt like a small act of defiance, a secret piece of beauty in an otherwise gray existence.

I changed into my pajamas, the familiar fabric a comfort against my skin. As I crawled back under the covers, I let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the evening with it.

My thoughts wandered to the party—the glittering lights, the laughter, and the delicious smell of food that had made my stomach rumble. But more than anything, my mind kept circling back to Keaton.

I touched my lips, still tingling from the kiss. My first kiss. And with Keaton Douglas of all people.

What had I been thinking? He was probably used to kissing girls at parties like it meant nothing. To him, it was just another fleeting moment in a life filled with countless others.

But for me… gosh, it had felt so real. So unexpected.

I shook my head, trying to dispel the thought. There was no way he could have been serious about his proposal. A part of me scoffed at the very idea—Keaton Douglas wanting anything with someone like me? Ridiculous. He didn't even know me.

Then again, it didn't seem like he cared.

Yet another part of me wished he had been serious. The thought was absurd but intoxicating in its impossibility.

My fingers brushed over my lips again as if trying to capture some lingering trace of his touch. It was foolish to even entertain the notion that it meant anything beyond a momentary lapse in judgment on his part.

With a sigh, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling, willing myself to stop thinking about him. Keaton’s world was light years away from mine, filled with power and privilege I could never understand or belong to.

And yet…

No. I couldn’t let myself go down that path. It would only lead to heartache and disappointment.

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