"Its not the first time we will have sex, Joey. What do you need protection from?" Sylvia reclined back into the sofa, covering up with the small sofa blanket that honestly did nothing to hide anything. She looked unbothered.
Joey ran a hand through his damp hair, his chest rising and falling too fast. "What...I am married, Sylvia. I shouldn’t...we shouldn’t have done this at all."
"Don’t ruin this moment, Joey." Sylvia turned her head toward him, her dark hair spilling across the cushions, her eyes half-lidded. "Please...just let me bask in it." She begged.
Joey sighed, pressing both palms to his face. His entire body was screaming with the aftershock of what they had just done, his cock still half-hard, his mind half-broken. Exasperation poured out of him in one long groan. "God..." he muttered.
Meanwhile, Sylvia stretched languidly, every inch of her body radiating the glow of being thoroughly fucked by the one man she loved.
"I have to go," Joey said finally.
"Stay...Winn isn’t home...you can stay."
Joey froze mid-step, his blood draining. "Oh shit! Winn!" he blurted, panic flashing across his face as if reality had just slammed into him.
"What?" Sylvia raised a brow.
"If your brother finds out about this, he is going to kill me." Winn had always been protective of his wild little sister, and he never had a problem with them dating in the past but now that he was married, he would consider this the ultimate betrayal.
"I’m not one to kiss and tell." Sylvia’s smile sharpened. She rolled onto her side, propping her head with her hand.
"I can’t come here anymore." Joey paced in front of the sofa, guilt making his movements jerky, his shirt still open, his pants half-zipped. "I know Winn said to look in on you, but I can’t do this."
Sylvia stood then, her body still humming from their reckless passion. She stopped right in front of him. "Why?" she whispered, tilting her chin up, her lips still curved in that infuriatingly knowing smile.
"Because every time you see me, you realize you are still just as in love with me as I am with you."
Joey’s heart pounded in his chest. She wasn’t wrong. That was the problem.
"This cannot happen again. It will not happen again." Joey didn’t dare look at Sylvia again. If he did, he knew he’d crumble—he’d pull her back into his arms, bury himself inside her until all sense of morality evaporated.
"You cannot leave me, Joey. Because I will do anything, anything at all to get you back." The emphasis was deliberate.
Joey’s throat worked, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t. If he gave her even one more word, one more glance, it would undo him. So he simply turned, yanked open the door, and walked out of the house.
Sylvia’s eyes fell on her phone lying on the coffee table. She picked it up with steady hands and dialed a number she knew by heart.
When her father’s voice came on the line, rich and powerful. "I kept my end of the deal, Dad. Now it’s your turn."
She ended the call without waiting for his reply, her chest rising with a thrill of power. Moving to the window, she pressed her palm against the cool glass, her eyes following the distant taillights vanishing into the night. The smug glow of sex had faded; she was sober now, clearheaded, and more dangerous than she had been in years.
One thought burned in her mind: she was going to get back what was hers—no matter the cost.
***** This text is hosted at novelFɪre.net
Winn was glad to be back on home soil. A whole week of negotiating, renegotiating, and arguing. Finally, they had come to a conclusion.
The Europeans had delivered their verdict: the only way they could trust Winn with that kind of money was if he got married within the next three months.
The project—his dream, the designer mall was now on hold. Two things, both monumental, now hinged on his marital status: his grandfather’s will, which stubbornly required him to be a "respectable" family man before being read, and his business expansion, which demanded the same charade of stability.
As his driver wound through the city streets toward his house, Winn slumped back into the seat, pulling at his tie until it hung loose around his neck. He cursed under his breath recalling the smug faces of the investors.
When he arrived home on Wednesday night, the compound was already lit with lamps and the moonlight. The long iron gates loomed ahead. Sylvia was already waiting by the gate, leaning against the stone pillar. She’d been restless all day, checking her phone every few minutes until his call finally came through.
Her heart had leapt—partly because she genuinely loved and worried about her brother, but also because Winn was the key. Through him, she would find a way to win Joey back.
The car rolled to a stop, and the driver hopped out to open the door. Winn stepped onto the gravel drive, his dark suit slightly rumpled from the long flight. Sylvia launched forward and wrapped her arms around him.
"Really? You missed me that much?" Winn murmured against her hair, his eyebrow arching upward in mock disbelief.
"Oh, don’t be daft," Sylvia laughed, squeezing him tighter before pulling back. "Of course, I missed you. You’re my brother, aren’t you?" Her smile was genuine enough to mask the flicker of calculation in her eyes.
Winn studied her for a beat too long, his gaze sweeping her face, hunting for the smallest cracks. "How have you been? Any slip-ups?"
"No." Sylvia straightened her shoulders proudly, chin tilted in defiance. "Not one drop. I promised you I would beat this."
Winn nodded slowly, lips pursed. He wanted to believe her, God knew he did. Trust with Sylvia had to be rationed.
They walked up the path together, hand in hand. The front door opened.
Winn let his bag drop in the hallway, his long frame collapsing into the sofa. He loosened his tie with one hand and rubbed his temple with the other. "Christ, it feels good to be home," he muttered, sinking deeper into the cushions.