Dylan swiped his keycard and stepped into the dimly lit hotel room. The scent of expensive perfume filled the air—Laura's. Of course, she was already there, waiting for him.
He paused at the door for a moment and heaved, the weight of what he was about to do sinking like lead in his chest.
He didn't want this. Not even a little.
And yet, he forced himself forward.
He'd convinced himself this was the only way to play along, control the narrative, and keep Olivia safe from Laura's schemes. It didn't matter if the relationship between him and Olivia was still a fake arrangement; he couldn't afford to shatter her trust. He couldn't become the kind of man she feared and hated, her ex-husband—Philip.
But this? This was a bitter pill to swallow.
Laura sat on the edge of the bed, legs folded beneath her, fingers resting suggestively between her thighs. Her dress hung open just enough for what she had in mind for Dylan. She tilted her head with a mocking smile.
