Chapter 22 Sex is sweet.

Chapter 22 Sex is sweet.
Morning sunlight slanted through the tall windows, gilding the quiet of the Allen estate. Selina moved through the house like a ghost, her silk sleeves whispering against her arms. Every corner seemed to hum with secrets. Nathan had grown strangely polite, too polite, and that frightened her more than anger would have. When he kissed her cheek at breakfast, she felt the chill of calculation beneath the warmth.
“Will you be home this afternoon?” he asked lightly, pouring coffee.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I may visit the shops.”
He smiled in that unreadable way of his. “Do enjoy yourself.”
That smile lingered in her mind as she left the room. Nathan never asked without a reason. He was watching again, she could feel it.
She retreated to the conservatory, the only place where sunlight and greenery muffled the weight of his attention. The air smelled of jasmine and damp earth. She pressed her palm to the glass, eyes following the gardener at work below. Karl bent over the rosebeds, steady and careful, unaware of how easily her heart leapt at the sight. Or perhaps he wasn’t unaware; perhaps he chose to ignore her now. Since Alan’s return, Karl had grown distant, stiff with jealousy that bled through every clipped word.
A message vibrated through her phone.
Alan: Meet me in the east corridor. Ten minutes.
Selina hesitated. The east corridor was secluded, its tall windows draped in velvet, its paintings silent witnesses. She knew better, yet her fingers trembled as she typed back a single word.
Selina: Coming.
She waited until the hall was empty, then slipped away. Her heels clicked softly against marble. The moment she turned the corner, she saw him, leaning against the wall, jacket unbuttoned, the afternoon light catching in his hair. Alan’s gaze found her instantly. It always did.
“You came,” he said quietly.
“You shouldn’t have called me here,” she whispered. “Nathan suspects everything.”
“He’s always suspected,” Alan replied. “That’s his nature. But you came anyway.”
Something in his tone, half-mocking, half-tender, made her breath hitch. “Because you asked,” she said, before she could stop herself.
He studied her, a slow smile ghosting across his face. “And that’s exactly why he’ll never understand you.”
Selina shook her head. “Don’t turn this into a game.”
“It already is one,” Alan murmured. “And you’re the only one who doesn’t know the rules.”
He stepped closer until the faint scent of cedar filled the space between them. Her pulse quickened. Alan had a way of commanding silence, of drawing her in without a single touch. The world outside the corridor seemed to vanish; there was only the sound of her heartbeat and his voice, low and dangerous.
“You look tired,” he said. “He’s keeping you awake, isn’t he? Watching you?”
She nodded once. “He reads my movements like pages in a book.”
“Then let him read,” Alan said. “Every perfect lie.”
For a moment, she hated how much she needed his confidence. Around him, the fear in her chest loosened its grip. “Karl doesn’t trust you either,” she said, forcing the words out. “He thinks you’ll ruin everything.”
Alan’s expression flickered. “Karl doesn’t understand what we’re doing.”
“And do you?” she asked softly.
He was silent for a long time. Then he said, “Enough to know I don’t want to stop.”
The honesty in his voice unsettled her more than any charm could. She stepped back, unsure whether to flee or stay. “You talk as if this, whatever this is, has no cost.”
“It has one,” he said, taking her hand before she could retreat. “You.”
Her breath caught. For an instant, warmth flooded through her, followed by guilt sharp as glass. She pulled free. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why?” Alan’s eyes burned into hers. “Because you still think you can go back to him? To that silence you call a marriage?”
Selina turned away, gripping the edge of the windowsill. Beyond the glass, Nathan’s car gleamed in the drive. “You don’t know what I want,” she said.
Alan’s voice softened. “Then tell me.”
But she couldn’t. Words would make it real.
A door closed somewhere down the hall. Both of them froze. Alan’s hand brushed hers, steadying, possessive. “Go,” he whispered. “Before he sees.”
Selina slipped away, her pulse racing. She didn’t see Nathan in the hall, but the silence felt charged, aware. When she reached her room, she closed the door and pressed her forehead against it, trembling.
Hours later, evening descended. Nathan was in his study again, the faint murmur of his voice carrying through the floorboards. Selina sat by the vanity, brushing her hair slowly, staring at the woman in the mirror, a woman she barely recognized. Her phone buzzed once more.
Alan: Come to the terrace.
She should have ignored it. Instead, she found herself walking through moonlit corridors, past sleeping portraits, toward the open doors leading outside. The night air was cool; the fountain murmured softly. Alan waited near the balustrade, his face shadowed.
“You shouldn’t keep calling me like this,” she said, hugging her shawl tighter.
“I had to see you,” he said. “You looked ready to disappear this afternoon.”
“Maybe I should.”
He stepped forward. “Do you really believe you could?”
Selina met his gaze, searching for cruelty and finding none, only a dangerous kind of sincerity. “You make everything impossible,” she said.
“I make you honest,” he countered. “You’ve spent years pretending. Don’t start again now.”
She wanted to deny it, but her voice betrayed her. “You don’t understand what it’s like to live every day waiting for permission to feel.”
Alan’s expression softened. “Then stop waiting.”
He reached up and touched her cheek with a gentleness that undid her resolve. The night swayed around them; even the stars seemed to hold their breath. Selina’s eyes closed, but before she could move closer, a shadow flickered near the hedge. Karl. She recognized the shape instantly, the squared shoulders, the hesitation.
Alan saw him too. His hand dropped.
“Let him watch,” Alan said quietly. “Maybe he’ll finally see the truth.”
“Alan, don’t,” Selina whispered, panic threading her voice. “He’s angry enough.”
Alan’s jaw tightened. “Then tell him what he wants to hear. Tell him you choose.”
She turned toward the hedge, but Karl was already gone. The garden swallowed him whole. When she looked back, Alan’s face was unreadable again.
“He’s jealous,” Alan said. “That makes him reckless. We can’t afford that.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’ll talk. Or worse, he’ll do something stupid. I’ve seen that look before.”
Selina’s hands trembled. “You think he’d tell Nathan?”
“I think everyone breaks when they’re cornered,” Alan replied. “That’s why we have to move first.”
“Move?” she echoed.
He nodded slowly, eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Leave. Just for a while. Somewhere no one knows us. We could disappear for a weekend, say it’s a family visit, a charity event, whatever you want. Nathan won’t suspect at first.”
Selina stared at him, torn between fear and temptation. “You’re serious.”
“Completely,” he said. “You need space. Away from him, from this house. From the walls listening to us.”
Her heart pounded. “And when we come back?”
Alan’s smile was faint, almost sad. “Then we decide whether there’s a ‘we’ at all.”
The words hung between them, heavier than any touch. For the first time, Selina realized that beneath Alan’s arrogance lay something raw, need, maybe even love, but it was love born in darkness, fed by secrecy.
She stepped back. “If I go, he’ll know. Nathan always knows.”
“Then let him,” Alan said. “He already suspects everything. Would you rather wait for him to punish you, or choose your own escape?”
Selina turned away, gripping the railing until the stone bit into her palms. The night breeze lifted her hair, carrying the faint scent of roses and rain. Every instinct screamed that running would destroy her, but staying might destroy her more quietly.
“Think about it,” Alan said softly behind her. “I’ll handle the details.”
She didn’t answer. When she finally looked back, he was already walking away, his silhouette fading into the shadows of the garden. Alone on the terrace, Selina pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat race against her ribs.
For the first time, the idea of leaving didn’t feel impossible, it felt inevitable.
Inside the house, a light flickered in Nathan’s study window. He was awake. Watching.
Selina closed her eyes.
Alan’s voice echoed in her memory: Sometimes the only way to survive is to become the monster they think you are.
She didn’t know yet which monster she was becoming.
Alan’s plan for a secret trip out of town was already in motion, and Nathan, reading a message in his private office, knew more than either of them guessed.