The boutique buzzed with quiet energy, soft jazz humming from the speakers, customers strolling in, fingers grazing fabric, heels tapping against marble. But Caliste barely noticed.
She stood behind the counter, flipping through a small sketchpad, pencil in hand… but her mind wasn't there.
She hadn't slept properly.
Her body still remembered the way Lucian held her. The way he kissed her like he owned her. Like he needed her.
And she hated how much a part of her had wanted it.
"Caliste?"
Her manager's voice pulled her back to earth.
She blinked, realizing a customer had been standing in front of her for who knows how long. She apologized quickly, shaking herself free from the fog clouding her thoughts, and helped with a warm smile she didn't truly feel.
The customer left satisfied, but Caliste's thoughts returned immediately to the penthouse she'd left just an hour ago.
Lucian hadn't said anything after what happened.
Not a word.
Not even a lingering glance in the elevator. Not a single hint that the fire they'd shared under the morning sun had left a mark on him too.
Was it just physical for him?
She told herself it didn't matter. That she had signed the agreement. That she knew what this arrangement was. She was his mistress, though he refused to call her that.
She was the woman he touched when the day was done, the one he kept in his luxurious cage.
But her heart… it never signed that contract.
"Hey, earth to Caliste," said one of her co-workers, Mila, nudging her. "You okay? You've been sighing every five minutes and misplacing orders."
Caliste forced a laugh. "Sorry. Just didn't sleep well."
"You sure it's not man trouble?" Mila teased. "You look like someone who got kissed breathless then left to spiral."
Caliste smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
If only Mila knew.
Lunch break came and went, and she tried to sketch a new design—but her pencil hovered above the page, unmoving. The curves of her drawing reminded her of his hands, the flow of the lines like the rhythm of their bodies tangled together.
Why do I feel this way… when I know what this is?
She wasn't supposed to hope. That ended years ago—along with the name Velmore and the glittering future she'd once held in her palm.
But seeing him every night…
Letting him touch her like that…
It was breaking her, slowly and silently.
-------
After work.
Caliste walked the familiar sidewalk with her coat pulled tight, the boutique behind her and the looming penthouse still blocks away. Her phone buzzed in her bag.
Lucian: Don't wait up. Working late.
Caliste sighed. Typical. She slipped her phone away and turned a corner—
—and collided into someone's chest.
"Oh—! I'm sorry, I—"
"Caliste?"
She looked up, blinking fast. The voice was warm, stunned, a memory brought to life. Jace Carter.
He looked just as she remembered—only older now, more polished. Still with that boyish softness in his smile and dark brown eyes that once confess his feelings for her, but she was then married to Lucian. He was the son of a powerful senator.
"Jace?" she whispered.
Without another word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I can't believe it's you. God, I looked everywhere."
Caliste stood frozen in his embrace, emotions swirling in her chest. She hadn't been held like this—in comfort, not possession—in years. Slowly, her arms lifted to return the hug, tentative and trembling.
"You… searched for me?" she asked, voice cracking.
"I did," Jace said, pulling back just enough to look at her face. "After the scandal. You vanished.Then desmund's take over. Your number, your house… even your mother was unreachable. I feared the worst."
His eyes scanned her face, a mixture of guilt and relief in them.
"I ended up overseas for a while," he continued. "But when I came back, the rumors... I didn't want to believe any of it. That you'd become—Caliste, I'm so sorry."
The mention of the rumors made her stomach knot, but somehow, Jace's apology didn't feel like judgment. It felt sincere. And for the first time in a long time, Caliste didn't feel like she had to defend herself.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He hesitated, then smiled. "Listen, I know it's sudden—but would you have dinner with me? Just to catch up. My treat."
Caliste hesitated for only a second. She thought of the quiet, lonely penthouse. Of Lucian's cold message. Of how her chest still ached from everything unsaid.
"…Alright," she said, surprising herself. "Dinner sounds nice."
Jace's smile widened, brighter than any expression she'd seen in weeks.
"Great. There's this place not far—quiet, private. You'll like it."
As they began walking together, Caliste felt something shift deep inside her.
For once, she wasn't thinking of survival, contracts, or calculated silence.
She was simply breathing—next to someone who reminded her she wasn't alone in the world.
_----
Caliste paused at the entrance, her breath catching slightly.
This place…
It hadn't changed.
Le Jardin D'or—the sanctuary of the elite. A hidden treasure for Elarion's wealthiest, where each guest dined in private rooms, shielded from public eyes and ears. The air carried the same faint scent of vanilla and sandalwood she remembered from her youth.
"This was your favorite spot," Jace said softly, stepping beside her. "They still reserve your old table. I pulled some strings."
A soft smile flickered across her lips. "I'm surprised they even remember me."
"They do," Jace said. "People don't forget a Winslow… especially one who used to light up the room."
She blushed, touched by his words even though they stirred the ache of what she'd lost.
They sat at the round mahogany table in the center, cushioned chairs surrounding them. Staff dressed in sharp black and gold quietly bowed, then retreated behind the velvet curtain that signaled the room was now fully private. One would remain just outside the entrance—discreet, silent, waiting only if summoned.
Moments later, their drinks arrived—her usual, a sparkling elderflower tonic—and Jace's, aged wine. When the menu was brought, Jace ordered for them both, recalling her favorites with surprising precision.
"Seared duck with apricot glaze… and truffle risotto for the lady," he said with a confident smile. "Still your favorites, right?"
Caliste let out a soft laugh. "You remembered."
"I always paid attention," he said, his tone suddenly more quiet. "Even when Lucian was around, I saw you. I never forgot how alive you looked when you were in places like this. When life hadn't… turned cruel."
That silenced her for a moment. The soft clinking of glass and distant music were the only sounds between them.
Then she spoke. "It wasn't always cruel. There were happy times. But I suppose… some things are destined to fall apart."