Page 30 of Discretion at Its Finest

I busied myself at the sink, rinsing out a glass just for something to do, anything to steady the tremor in my hands. I just wanted a moment to feel normal, to breathe.

But nothing had felt normal since Reid had come back to ruin our lives and to take what he thought belonged to him.

I’d spent years trying to find something stable, something untouched by the ruin I’d inherited. My family’s business had collapsed so fast it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me, my father dying alongside it. I was barely twenty when I scrambled into PR work, desperate for a fresh start, determined to survive the wreckage and use whatever skills I had.

That’s how I found the Newmans… how I found him.

Reid Kaufman wasn’t supposed to matter. I was nobody; he was the brilliant son of a rising empire. And yet somehow, in the chaos of both our lives, he saw me, he made me feel seen.

For a while, I thought we could’ve carved out a simple life, something stable and predictable.

Reid had been my everything. And I’d been his. Just… in private. But no one knew that. To everyone else, I was simply the sweet family friend keeping his dying mother company.

We were never loud or obvious. But we werereal. And losing him had gutted me.

When the truth about Jamie’s infidelity came out, when Reid was turned away by his father, his brother, the whole family he’d bled for… I had to let him go. I had no choice.

Gregory was the safe option. Therightoption. The option that offered the quiet life I’d convinced myself I needed. The one that would keep me from repeating my family’s ruin.

My fingers tightened around the glass as the water hit the bottom, loud in the quiet as I let it run.

I thought I’d get over him. I thought he’d get over me. But every time I closed my eyes I saw him. Every time I opened them and saw the life I pretended to love, every time I felt the hollow ache in my chest, every single time I laid my eyes on my son… all I could see… was him.

His mouth on mine, his touch burning my skin, our bodies finding each other, always in sync, always in tune, none of it disappeared. All it did was fester deep inside me, building in a way I couldn’t ignore, haunting me in a way his whispers always did.

And now that he was back, he was worse. Infiltrating my life, shifting my routines, destabilizing me in ways he saw fit. Hurting me because I had hurt him.

Now I was coordinating appearances for him. Drafting press language. Reviewing statements.The prodigal son returned,all clean lines and investor-ready charm. And I was helping him sell it. Playing the part like a fool. The more the days passed, the more the lines between past and present, truth and performance, blurred into something I couldn’t control.

I used to tell myself I had no choice. But now… now I couldn’t help but wonder if I ever did.

“How long until he finds out, do you think?”

My breath caught as my body flinched.

Behind me, Reid’s voice slid into the room, cutting my thoughts short. I felt like I needed to run. Felt like I was trapped in this moment, in this kitchen, this house, in this fabricated lie that was my life.

“That everything is pretend,” he murmured. “That every smile, every word, every breath you take around him is rehearsed from a life of lies you live behind.”

Slow, dangerous steps moved behind me and my pulse stumbled. I gripped the counter harder.

“That even now… even here… you think about me more than you think about him.”

I didn’t answer him. Because I had thought of him. Too many times and in too many ways.

My voice caught, but I forced it out, low. “Gregory’s upstairs.”

“And you’re down here,” he countered, already closer.

I felt the heat of him at my back before his hand flattened against the counter beside mine, caging me in. I couldn’t move without colliding with him. My chest rose and fell, shallow and frantic, as his other hand ghosted down my hip, over the thin fabric of my nightgown.

“Tell me you don’t still think about it,” he murmured.

I kept my eyes on the dark window over the sink, my reflection burning into my eyes. His gaze met mine, eyes hooded, dark, terrifyingly certain he knew the answer already.

One of my hands moved to finally turn off the running water, my fingers trembling over the knob. My knees buckled as his hand covered mine, twisting the valve shut.

“I don’t,” I forced out. The word barely left my mouth before the air shifted again. His fingers from his other hand found the hem of my nightgown, dragging it slowly up my thigh.