Ryan's POV
Saint Grand Lucent—our luxury hotel chain and one of the most profitable under Saint Corp's name. Discreet. Expensive. And perfect for affairs no one should question.
Diane knew the suite. Knew how to keep her presence quiet. Knew how to make me forget.
I'd buried myself in work all week, staying late at board meetings and overseeing upgrades to Saint Haven Medical Center. Anything to keep distance from the penthouse, from Mia's quiet presence and the sound of her laughter with Eric echoing in my head long after I left.
Lia and Reo had taken off again—another international business venture. That meant Eric was back with us, dropped off with a grateful hug and a smile from Lia that said, "Thank you." She never stayed long enough to see how it strained the air between Mia and me.
Mia hadn't complained. She welcomed Eric like her own. She packed his lunches, helped with homework, braided his hair when he asked, and made the penthouse feel like a place I didn't recognize.
It was starting to feel like a home.
And that was a dangerous thought.
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Hotel Suite — The Grand Lucent, Saint-Owned Luxury
Later That Night
Diane opened the door with a sultry smirk. Silk clung to her curves, her lipstick a deep red that promised trouble.
"You always make me wait, Saint," she said, teasing as she leaned in and brushed her lips over mine.
I didn't waste time with pleasantries. My jacket hit the floor. She slipped her arms around my neck. Her hands were heat and hunger. Her whispers were soft and sinful.
We made it to the bed tangled in moonlight and need, her moans swallowed against my throat as I took her like a man trying to forget his own name.
And I did—for hours, I let it all burn away.
Until the world shrank to silken sheets and satisfaction.
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Mia's POV — Back at the Penthouse
I knew he wouldn't come home. I didn't ask. I didn't need to.
His absence was always predictable—like the chill in a room after the heat leaves. But I had Eric, and tonight that was enough.
We baked cookies after dinner—chocolate chip, his favorite. He called me Aunt Mia now without hesitation, and while I corrected him with a small smile, part of me didn't want him to stop.
His parents were overseas again—business as usual. So it was just us, just like last time. I bathed him, read him a silly bedtime story, tucked him in with his plush dragon, and kissed his forehead.
"You're the best," he whispered before falling asleep.
I blinked against the tightness in my throat.
It wasn't the words.
It was the way he meant it.
Ryan was out somewhere doing what Ryan did. And here I was—sitting alone in the penthouse kitchen, sipping mint tea, wondering why I was starting to care about a family that didn't belong to me.
Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time…
I didn't feel so alone.