Chapter 38 Chapter 38
Lena’s POV
I don’t understand him.
I don’t understand Sebastian Lancaster at all, and I hate—hate—how much space he takes up in my mind as I walk down the hallway clutching my tablet like it’s some emotional grounding device. The overhead lights hum; the carpet muffles my footsteps; employees move around me in neat corporate loops.
Everything is normal.
Except me.
Except the fact that I feel like someone shook my world and rearranged the pieces while I wasn’t looking.
I don’t even know what to think anymore. One second he’s kind in ways he’s not supposed to be, the next he’s cold enough to freeze the entire floor. One moment he’s looking at me like he wants to pull me against him, kiss me, breathe me in…
And the next he’s slicing me apart with words I know he doesn’t mean.
Or maybe he does.
God. I hate that this bothers me.
I hate that he bothers me.
I hate that I feel anything at all.
“That is not the plan,” I mutter under my breath, voice shaking slightly. “It’s not. I’m not doing this. I’m not—”
I stop talking when someone passes me, giving me a weird look.
I force a smile.
Then I duck around a corner where no one is, and the second I realize I’m alone, everything I buried in his office bursts up like a geyser.
“What is wrong with him?” I whisper first.
Then louder.
“What is wrong with me?”
I run a hand through my hair, pacing in tiny, irritated circles. “Why am I even thinking about him? Why does it matter if he’s cold or hot or—whatever the hell he is? He’s my boss. My boss. A very annoying man who clearly needs therapy and a personality transplant.”
My voice rises without permission.
“He can switch moods every ten seconds for all I care!”
“Are… you okay, Lena?”
I freeze so hard I nearly choke on my own spit.
One of the junior associates is standing a few feet away, blinking at me like she’s witnessing a public mental breakdown.
I snap my mouth shut, cheeks flushing so hot I could cook noodles on them. “I—I’m fine.”
She hesitates, opens her mouth like she wants to ask ten more questions, then decides against it and hurries away.
I drag a palm down my face.
Perfect. I’m officially talking to myself in hallways now. Wonderful. Every day I evolve into a new embarrassing creature.
I inhale deeply and try to force my brain back into something that resembles functional adulthood.
I need to do something productive. Something normal. Something that isn’t thinking about Sebastian’s voice or the way he almost stepped closer or the way he shut me out again like he regretted letting anything slip.
Sienna.
Right. She called in sick.
As her lead—unofficially babysitting her half the time—it’s basic professionalism to check on her. Not because I care. Not because I’m some saint sent to restore order to the workplace.
Just… formality. Routine. Something that makes sense.
I go to HR and ask for her address.
They give it easily, and the moment I have the location, I’m out of the building. I catch a cab, staring out the window while the city blurs past—a mix of noise, fumes, and bright daylight I’m too irritated to appreciate.
My thoughts spiral back to Sebastian against my will.
The tone of his voice.
The edge behind his eyes.
The way he almost stepped toward me like he was fighting himself.
The way it hurt when he pulled back.
Why does it hurt?
I don’t want it to.
I want to chalk it up to infatuation—just chemicals, attraction, proximity. Nothing real. Nothing that can root itself inside me and bloom into something stupid and dangerous.
Because I do not have the luxury of falling for a Lancaster.
Especially that Lancaster.
Especially when his son is—
No. I won’t think about Wes right now.
The cab drops me in front of Sienna’s apartment complex, a polished building with perfectly trimmed shrubs and a door code entry system. I climb the stairs, my heels clicking against the steps, echoing the pulse beating too fast in my neck.
Her hallway smells faintly of lavender cleaner and cheap air freshener. I walk to her door, raise my hand, and knock.
No answer.
I knock again.
Still nothing.
“Sienna?” I call. “It’s Lena—I came to check in.”
Silence.
I frown and try the handle, expecting it to be locked.
It turns easily.
Unlocked.
That’s strange. Careless. Not like her, even in her laziest moods. I hesitate only a second before stepping inside.
“Sienna?”
The apartment is… surprisingly neat. Shoes lined by the door. Jacket thrown over the couch. Nothing alarming. Nothing out of place.
Except the faint noise I hear coming from deeper inside. A rhythmic sound. Soft. Faint.
I take a few steps forward, confusion brushing my skin.
“Sienna?”
No response.
Another step.
The sound grows clearer, louder—moans, gasps, breathless urgency tangled with low, masculine groans.
My stomach drops.
No. No. No.
I move toward the half-closed bedroom door because my brain is no longer connected to my feet. Because I can’t help it. Because my body is moving before I can talk myself out of what I already suspect.
I push the door open.
And my world stops.
Sienna is on the bed.
Naked, Panting.
Under—Wes.
Wes.
My ex. My literal ex.
My ex who wanted to see me this morning.
My ex who grabbed my arm.
My ex who begged.
My ex who accused me of being with someone else.
My ex who seemed heartbroken.
My ex who is currently inside Sienna like the universe is playing the cruellest possible joke on me.
My vision goes white around the edges.
They freeze mid-movement.
Sienna’s eyes go wide.
Wes goes rigid.
The room immediately goes silent.