Page 90 of Lush

Reese had always gotten under my skin, into my heart, whether I wanted him there or not.

I remembered the first time I realized I loved him—really loved him. Not some silly crush, not just lust, but real, deep love that lodged itself into your bones. We had snuck away to LA, and he took me to a gallery opening for my favorite artist.

His fingers had traced lazy circles on my wrist, his voice teasing, coaxing, making me laugh so hard I forgot to guard myself. He stayed by my side all night; then, I saw us in the mirror. We looked like a real couple. Comfortable, at ease. I wasn’t worried about my image, or presentability politics.

He looked at me and it had hit me all at once—like a crash, like a fall.

And now…now he was doing it again.

I felt it all.

Even if I wouldn’t admit it.

Even if I knew better.

I put my finger to my lips, hoping to squash that thought. Reese didn’t fit in with my carefully planned life. But the truth was, I didn’t want to survive anymore.

I wanted tolive.

And that terrified me.

For so long, I had convinced myself that my purpose was to rise above—to be untouchable, undeniable, untamed by anything that could hurt me. I had mapped out every move, every play, determined to build a life so grand, so opulent, that no one—not Mama, not this town, not Reese—could ever touch it.

And I loved it. The glitz, the glamour, the power of walking into a room and knowing I belonged there. The way diamonds looked against my skin.

Reese unraveled parts of me I thought I’d buried, and I realized—maybe for the first time—that I wanted something else too.

Something deeper. Something real. Something that had nothing to do with revenge or proving a point.

It meant trusting someone with the parts of me I’d hidden for so long, the parts that felt too fragile to expose. It meant loving Reese—and letting him love me back.

With a sigh, I sat up.

Noelle looked over at me. “You okay?”

“I can’t relax,” I admitted, watching the candles flicker.

“One moment, please,” Noelle requested to the masseuses. Once we were alone, she turned, eyes sharp. “This isn’t about the wedding, is it?”

It was dangerous. Because loving him, trusting him again, meant taking the kind of risk I swore I’d never take again. I’d lost last time to Mama.

“No. It’s… What did you find on the camera?”

She sat up, clutching the blanket.

“It wasn’t just some cheap, throwaway device,” she said, her voice low. “This thing was custom.”

“And?” I cleared my throat.

“I reviewed the footage. Most of it’s pretty uneventful—staff coming and going. Nothing that stands out.” She paused. “But the camera’s footage goes back three days.”

I sat up fully now. “You’re saying someone knew I’d be in that suitethree daysbefore I got there?”

“Did anyone else know you were coming?”

The soft hum of the massage table’s heating element filled the room. Someone had been watching, listening, before I even set foot in that place.

Who the fuck were we dealing with?

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