Episode 2: Chapter Three: - Lilly’s POV
1095 Words
The shower water had long since cooled, but Lilly stayed beneath it anyway.
She rested her palms against the tiled wall, eyes closed, letting the last of the day slide off her skin. Steam clung to the mirror behind her, blurring her reflection into something indistinct—someone who didn’t have to be poised or charming or convincing.
Just Lilly.
She exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing at last. The meeting replayed itself whether she invited it or not—his voice, his eyes, the way the air had seemed to shift when he sat across from her.
Stop, she told herself gently. It’s done.
She shut off the water and wrapped herself in a towel, padding barefoot into her bedroom. The quiet wrapped around her immediately, familiar and safe. She dropped onto the edge of the bed, reaching for her phone before she could overthink it.
Ella picked up on the second ring.
“Okay,” Ella said without preamble, “you’re alive. Tell me everything.”
Lilly laughed, the sound light and unguarded. “Hi to you too.”
“Don’t deflect. How did it go? Who was the mystery client? Are you rich now?”
Lilly hesitated, then smiled. “You’re going to think I’m lying.”
“Try me.”
“It was Ethan Scott.”
Silence.
Then—“The Ethan Scott?”
“The one and only.”
“Oh my God.” Ella inhaled sharply. “Okay. No. Start from the beginning. What was he like? Was he late? Please tell me he wasn’t awful.”
“He wasn’t late,” Lilly said, stretching out on the bed. “I was early. He noticed.”
“Of course he did,” Ella said dryly. “And?”
“And he’s… composed. Very. Like he walks into a room already knowing it belongs to him.”
Ella hummed. “Hot?”
Lilly closed her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Ella laughed. “Details.”
“He was polite. Direct. Asked the right questions.” Lilly paused. “And he listened. Like, really listened.”
“That’s dangerous,” Ella said.
“I know.”
They talked through it—Lilly describing the lounge, the contract, the money that still didn’t quite feel real. She told Ella about his grandfather, about the fake girlfriend arrangement, about the paparazzi waiting downstairs.
“And you agreed?” Ella asked.
“Yes.”
“And you’re sure this is a good idea?”
Lilly stared at the ceiling. “No. But it’s a necessary one.”
“And the kiss?” Ella asked casually.
Lilly groaned. “I knew you’d get to that.”
“You kissed him.”
“I was acting!”
“Uh-huh.”
“It was part of the job.”
Ella let the silence stretch. “Did it feel like part of the job?”
Lilly didn’t answer right away.
“No,” she said finally. “It didn’t.”
Ella softened. “Be careful, Lil.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “I will.”
After they hung up, the room felt even quieter than before. Lilly set her phone on her stomach and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling fan as it turned lazily above her.
She smiled before she could stop herself.
The day replayed again—not in order, but in fragments.
The way his eyes had flicked up when he saw her.
The subtle lift of his eyebrow when she challenged him.
The warmth of his hand in hers.
And then—
You’re early.
His voice slipped into her thoughts so clearly it was as if he were standing beside her.
Her smile deepened.
She remembered the way it had startled her, the way she’d scrambled to compose herself. The sound of his voice—smooth, unhurried, like he had nowhere else he needed to be.
She replayed the moment again, slower this time.
The way he’d looked at her—not through her, not past her. At her.
It unsettled her. And it thrilled her.
This was supposed to be a performance. A role she knew how to play. She’d stepped into plenty before, worn masks convincingly enough to make them believable.
But this one felt different.
This one felt like stepping onto a stage without fully knowing the script.
Lilly shifted, clutching her phone lightly, grounding herself in the present. She reminded herself why she’d said yes. The money. The opportunity. The responsibility waiting for her no matter what she wanted.
Still—
She closed her eyes, letting the memory settle gently instead of pushing it away.
Ethan Scott wasn’t just a name anymore. He was a voice. A presence. A complication.
She hadn’t meant to notice him like that.
At first, it was just an impression—the way he filled the space across from her without trying. The cut of his suit, tailored so precisely it looked less like clothing and more like intent. Broad shoulders held easy, restrained power. The quiet confidence of someone who never needed to prove it.
Then her gaze had betrayed her.
She remembered the line of his jaw, sharp but not severe, the faint shadow of stubble that softened it. His lips—God, his lips—curved so easily into something knowing, something dangerous. She’d caught herself wondering what they’d feel like before she’d had the sense to stop.
And his eyes.
Dark, steady, assessing—but not cold. When they locked onto hers, it felt like being seen instead of studied, like he wasn’t just measuring her usefulness but her presence. That alone had unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
Then there was his scent.
Subtle. Clean. Something warm beneath the sharpness—wood, maybe, or spice. It clung to the air between them when he leaned closer, impossible to ignore. She’d inhaled without thinking, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.
Unprofessional, she’d told herself.
But she’d noticed anyway. The way his forearms flexed slightly when he rested them on the table. The stillness of him—controlled, deliberate—as if every movement was chosen.
She’d felt it then: that quiet, traitorous pull. Not lust exactly. Something slower. Something curious.
Admiration, maybe.
Or the dangerous beginning of it.
And as sleep crept closer, Lilly found herself wondering—not for the first time that night—whether pretending to be his girlfriend would be harder than pretending she wasn’t already a little curious about the man behind the role.
- Writer
