Chapter 109 109. Sex In The War Room
I left her curled on her side with one hand tucked under her cheek. The morning light caught the auburn in her hair and made it glow like embers. I wanted to pull her close, lose myself in her again, but rest was important.
The next few weeks are about to be hectic.
I pressed a kiss to her temple, careful not to disturb her, and left a note on the pillow:
Don't skip breakfast. Be a good girl and work only as much as you can handle. I'll be back before you can miss me properly- L.
My drive back was quiet until my phone rang. Unknown number. I answered on bluetooth.
"Lucien Hayes."
The caller went silent. It was then I knew who it was that had disturbed my peace.
"Where is Nadia?" The voice slithered through the speakers.
"Somewhere playing wife for you, maybe?"
"Do you think it's a joke?"
"Yes, you?"
He laughed sinisterly. "I see. You are with Nadia. You kidnapped her, and that gave you the balls to make jokes with me, right?"
"Wow. Nadia left? Seems your little toy finally grew a spine and dumped your ass," I mocked, and I knew it hit the spot because he went quiet again.
"Here's how this goes, brother. I don't see Nadia within three days, I release the last piece of evidence I kept of your precious Camila. This time there'll be no delaying. I'm done being generous with you." The line cut.
Three must be his favorite number. Poor, dumb Ronan. Cornered and grasping for leverage, and Camila was still the sharpest knife he thought he had. He didn't know yet that we were almost done blunting it.
I tightened my grip on the wheel. Three or thirty, he wasn't touching her. Not again.
\--Camila's POV--
Knuckles drummed on my bedroom door, stirring me awake. Only one person in this house knocked this cheerfully and relentlessly.
"Wake up. I know for a fact you're not dead, because there were very lively sounds coming from this room last night."
I groaned into my pillow. The spot where Lucien had slept was already cool. The traitor had escaped.
Maya let herself in, hair in its usual messy bun, oversized T‑shirt hanging off one shoulder. She flopped down beside me and poked my arm.
"So? Are your legs still attached? Should I call a medic? Maybe a priest?"
I tried to hide my smile, but it broke through. "My legs are fine."
"Fine?! After what I heard? Liar. Tell me everything. Did he-"
"Maya."
She wiggled her brows. "At least give me adjectives. Intense? Gentle? Illegal in some countries? Tell me about the sex!"
A soft happiness bloomed in my chest. "Intense," I admitted. "Very... focused... and sweet, understanding, committing, also tender, cuddly. He makes me feel like I'm the only thing in the room that matters."
Her grin softened. "You are to him. I can tell from the way you're glowing. He's clearly doing something right." She moved closer, tone changing to something quite serious. "Seriously though, are you happy?"
The question caught me off guard. Was I happy? With the evidence review about to take over my days, the dissipating fear of Ronan, the monitor on my ankle everywhere I go?
But then I thought of Lucien's hands on me. His voice in my ear. His kisses in my hair. His eyes on mine.
Yes. I am happy.
"Of course. I am."
"Good. Because you deserve it." She nudged my leg. "Now tell me more."
"Maya!"
"What? I don't have a hot billionaire to worship my sex-starved body and the least you can do is tell your own stories with your own hot billionaire. I swear, I almost fingered myself to the sound of you two last night."
"What?!"
"That was a joke," she confessed and we shared a laugh. Her joints cracked as she stretched. "I don't have shifts at the cafe, so today is remote‑work only."
"Your remote job pays you so well, why are you still serving drinks? They don't pay enough to justify customers who yell at you for little things."
"You're right. I almost beat one yesterday. But honestly..." She shook her head. "I like the people, the noise, the dramaaa. I don't want to stay hunched over my laptop all day."
"Fair point."
We went to the kitchen together. She made coffee while I heated leftover pancakes. After she retreated to her room with her mug, I headed down to the war room.
I started with the financial spreadsheets. Rows and rows of numbers, transfers from shell companies, accounts under fake names. My eyes burned as I cross‑checked dates and patterns.
This became my routine.
Mornings for evidence, afternoons for the job that actually paid my bills, evenings back to evidence with Lucien. It was exhausting. My neck ached. My shoulders were tight. Coffee was one thing keeping me upright.
Lucien kept offering to support me financially so I could quit and rest in the afternoons. The conversation always ended the same way.
"Let me take care of you, Fiera."
"I need to do this myself."
"You're going to burn out."
"Then I'll burn out on my own terms."
He never pushed, but I saw the worry in his eyes every time I rubbed my temples or reached for another cup of coffee.
That afternoon, Rafael showed up to take over the evidence review, but he wasn't alone. Behind him, shorter, wearing a floral dress and kind eyes that warmed my chest, was Mama Cortez.
I straightened so fast my chair squeaked. "Mama?!"
Her face lit up. "Mi niña." She pulled me into a hug that smelled like vanilla and cinnamon. "Rafael told me you were working too hard. I came to check on you."
For a moment, I forgot about everything and just clung to her.
"You are too thin," she fussed, leaning back to look me over. "Your face is tired. Lucien is not feeding you well."
I laughed. "He tries. I'm just really stubborn."
"We will talk about this," she declared. "But first, show me your place."
We went back to my unit. I made us both mugs while she took in the small living space. Nothing like the house she lives in, but she didn't look at it like it was less.
On the couch, she took my hands in hers, rubbing small circles over my fingers.
"Tell me how you are really doing."
That scraped at something deep.
I told her about the long days, the anxiety that sat under my ribs sometimes, the way hope and fear shared the same space in my chest now. How Lucien held me through the worst of it at night, how sometimes I woke just to check he was still beside me.
Her eyes glistened. "He loves you very much. I see it. Do you have any idea how much you have changed him?"
"Some days I feel like I'm just... another weight around his neck."
She shook her head firmly. "You are the reason he is swimming instead of letting himself drown."
Later, we went to a fresh food market together because she declared my fridge an insult to human nutrition.
"I will cook today and fill your freezer. Not having my future daughter‑in‑law and chief bridesmaid faint from hunger."
The term future landed in my chest like a pebble in deep water, ripples spreading out to touch things I wasn't ready to name yet.
Back at the apartment, she moved around my kitchen easily, rejecting any help from me. Instead, she commanded I gossip with her. Rafael checked in briefly before heading to 4D. We talked and talked about her garden, her animals, the quiet of her house.
"Don't you ever feel lonely in all that space? No staff, only you and your plants."
"Sometimes," a mix of fondness and sadness were in her eyes. "But it is a peaceful loneliness, honestly."
By the time Lucien arrived in the evening, the place smelled like heaven. Mama was packing labeled containers into the freezer, warning me not to forget the order she'd arranged them in.
He stepped in to hug her but immediately got a light swat on his butt.
"You are not feeding her well," she scolded. "Look at her cheeks."
"She's really stubborn, believe me," he caught my eye over her head, amusement dancing there.
"Then try harder." She kissed his cheek, then mine. "Take care of each other."
At night, we all walked her down together. She kissed my forehead at the station and hugged Lucien so hard his stoic mask cracked.
I hummed to a tune I picked up from the station as we drove back.
"Check the backseat," Lucien said.
I reached back to find a brown paper bag, and pulled it into my lap. Inside were two hardcover books.
"What's this?" I turned to him.
"I miss reading you to sleep, Fiera. Since you refuse to let me see your book until it's publishing‑ready, I had to improvise. Pick one for tonight. Just you, me, and someone else's drama."
Warmth flooded my chest. "You're skipping review night?"
He exhaled like an overworked CEO announcing a scandal. "I am officially on strike. Your man is tired and requires cuddles."
I chuckled, tucking the books back into the bag. "Big baby."
"Say that again later when you're hogging the blanket," he reached over, lacing our fingers together.
Back at my building, we stepped off the elevator and started down the hall, but as we passed Unit 4D, we both froze.
"Ahhh... Ohh-yess... Please..."
Our eyes met, confusion and alarm mirrored in his expression.
Someone was having sex in our evidence room!