Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Jason Asher's penthouse, perched high above the bustling streets, the city skyline glittered like a king's crown under the night sky. From up here the chaos below felt like a distant memory. The place screamed luxury—polished black marble floors that reflected the dim golden lights, a massive leather sectional scattered with soft cashmere throws, and a sleek bar lined with bottles that probably cost more than most people made in a month. The air was choking with the sharp scent of expensive cologne, mingling with the raw, musky remnants of sex, making the room feel both intoxicating and forbidden.
On the king-sized bed, silk sheets lay twisted around two naked bodies, Jason and Sarai moving together with a kind of wild, desperate energy—like two people who knew exactly how many rules they were breaking but didn't care in the slightest. Sarai's glossy jet-black hair spilled across the pillows, her sharp green eyes half-lidded with pleasure as she arched beneath Jason. Her manicured nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescent moons on his gym-toned skin. Jason's blonde hair was damp with sweat, his hazel eyes glinting with a mix of lust and arrogance as he leaned down, his lips grazing her ear, whispering something that made her laugh—a low, sultry sound that echoed in the softly lit room.
The headboard slammed against the wall in a steady rhythm, like a dark, twisted timekeeper counting out the beat of their betrayal. Outside, the city lights flickered through the windows, washing the room in fleeting golds and silvers that danced across their bodies. Shadows caressed the smooth curve of Sarai's spine as she arched beneath him, while Jason's muscles tightened and flexed with every powerful thrust of his cock, his hands gripping the sheets like he was holding onto his last threads of sanity.
Their breaths came out in sharp, ragged gasps that filled the room with the raw sound of lustful desires and guilt tangled together. The moment built and built, a feverish climax that felt like it might tear them both apart. And then, finally, they collapsed against each other in a trembling heap, hearts pounding, chests heaving, the silk bedsheets sticking to their sweat-slicked skin as the city watched silently from beyond the glass.
For a moment, they lay there, the only sound around them was the faint hum of the city below and their uneven breathing. Then Sarai stirred, her fingers trailing lazily across Jason's chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with a possessiveness that bordered on obsession. Her touch was soft but deliberate, like a predator savoring its prey. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling in a sleek curtain over one shoulder, her lips curved in a pout that was equal parts seductive and calculating.
"Jason," she murmured, her voice honeyed but edged with urgency, "when are you going to stop this charade? When will you break up with her? You don't need Eliana. You have me." Her fingers paused, circling a spot just above his heart, as if she could claim it with her touch alone.
Jason groaned, not from desire this time, but from exasperation, and rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The crystal chandelier above glinted mockingly, reflecting the mess of their after sex. "Sarai, we've been over this. I'm not breaking up with Eliana. Not now, not ever." His voice was firm, but there was a petulant edge to it, like a child refusing to share a toy.
Sarai's green eyes narrowed, and she sat up, the sheet slipping to reveal the curve of her collarbone, the faint shimmer of her skin from the expensive body oil she always wore. "Why not?" she demanded, her voice rising. "We've been doing this for five years, Jason. Five years of sneaking around, of me waiting for you to finally choose me. I'm better than her. My family's rich, connected—way more than hers ever will be. You and I make sense. We're the same kind of people."
Jason snorted, a sound that was both amused and dismissive. He propped himself up on his elbows, his hazel eyes glinting with something cold. "Your family's rich, sure, but they're not Kenneth Holloway rich. Nobody is." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know how much my parents want in on his circle. They've been kissing up to him for years, and Eliana's the key. She's his little princess, adopted or not. They'd kill me if I let her go."
Sarai's lips tightened into a thin line, her fingers curling into the sheets. "But you don't even love her anymore," she pressed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "You told me yourself—two years into your relationship, you found out she's not even his real granddaughter. She's a fraud, Jason. The daughter of a garbage collector, pretending to be one of us. I'm the one who told you the truth, remember? Eliana lied to us about who she was. She doesn't belong in our world."
Jason's jaw clenched, a flicker of something—guilt, maybe—crossing his face before it was swallowed by indifference. He sat up fully, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his back to her. The muscles in his shoulders tensed, and he ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair. "Yeah, you told me. And yeah, I was pissed. Back when we were eighteen, I thought I loved her. She was sweet, innocent, all that crap. But then you dropped that bomb about her dad being some nobody, and it changed everything. I'm well aware she's not one of us, Sarai. She's... beneath us. But my parents don't care about that. They sat me down, told me to stick with her no matter what. Kenneth Holloway's money is worth more than her sob story."
Sarai slid closer, her hand reaching for his arm, her touch insistent. "Then why keep up the act? My family's not chump change, Jason. We could make things happen—business deals, connections, everything your parents want. You don't need Eliana for that. You could have me, openly, no more hiding. We're perfect together."
Jason laughed, a sharp, humorless sound that filled the room like dry ice. He shoved her hand off his arm, not gently, and stood, grabbing his discarded jeans from the floor. "Perfect? Come on, Sarai. Your family's got money, but it's pocket change compared to Holloway. Until you're swimming in his kind of cash, Eliana's my ticket. Besides..." He paused, pulling his shirt over his head, his voice softening into something almost wistful. "I still like her, okay? Yes she's boring as hell, always playing the goody-two-shoes, but there's something about her. She's... easy. She forgives me every time I screw up. What's not to like about that?"
Sarai's face twisted, her green eyes blazing with a fury she could barely contain. She leaned back against the headboard, the sheet pulled up to her chest, her body rigid with anger. "You're pathetic," she spat, echoing the words she'd hurled at Eliana just days ago. "You're stringing her along because she's too weak to leave you, and you're too weak to let go of Holloway's money. You're not even man enough to choose what you really want."
Jason spun around, his hazel eyes flashing with irritation. "Don't start with me, Sarai. I'm not in the mood. And don't ever tell me to break up with Eliana again. You know the deal. We have fun, we keep it quiet, and I stay with her. End of story." He zipped up his jeans, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and headed for the door. "I'm going back to the hostel. She's been blowing up my phone all night, whining about her dad or whatever. I can't deal with her crying right now."
Sarai stayed silent, her jaw clenched, her fingers digging into the sheets as she watched him leave. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone in the tangled mess of their betrayal. She was still naked, the cool air of the penthouse raising goosebumps on her skin, but the chill in her chest was colder. Her eyes burned with determination, her mind racing with plans.
She wasn't going to let this go. Not Jason, not her pride, not her vision of a future where she was the one on his arm, not some garbage collector's daughter. Sarai Monroe always got what she wanted, no matter who she had to destroy to get it. And Eliana? Poor, naive Eliana, with her hopeful smiles and her pathetic loyalty, was about to learn just how far Sarai was willing to go.
She slid out of bed, her movements graceful despite the storm raging inside her. As she reached for her silk robe, her lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. She'd find a way to break them up. Even if it destroyed Eliana completely.