More Than Just Lust

04.

Iona woke up to the dim glow of the bedside lamp, her body sinking into the soft mattress. For a second, she was disoriented, blinking against the quiet unfamiliarity of the room. Then it all came rushing back—Xylon, the ridiculous deal, and the fact that she was now living in a stranger’s house.

She sighed, rubbing her face before sitting up. Her throat felt dry, and her stomach was starting to ache with hunger. How long had she been asleep?

She looked at the alarm clock at the bedside table.

9:47 P.M.

With a groggy stretch, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and padded toward the door. The house was quiet, the kind of silence that felt heavier at night. She hesitated for a moment before slowly pushing the door open.

Stepping into the hallway, she noted the door next to hers—Xylon’s room. She didn’t think much of it as she carefully made her way down the hall. The kitchen wasn’t too far, if she could just—

A soft laugh.

Iona stilled.

It came from behind the door she had just passed. Xylon’s room.

She hadn’t meant to stop. She knew better than to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. But then she heard it—the rustling of sheets, followed by a low murmur.

Xylon’s voice.

“Keep quiet. There are other people around the house.”

Her stomach twisted, and she didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like they were anything to each other. But still, hearing it was different.

Then—her stomach betrayed her.

A loud, embarrassing growl echoed in the silent hallway.

Iona froze.

The room went completely still.

Shit.

A shuffle. A creak. Footsteps approaching the door.

Oh, hell no.

Adrenaline kicked in as Iona whipped around and bolted down the hall, her socks barely gripping the floor as she ran. She didn’t have a plan—just pure, desperate survival mode.

Her eyes darted wildly, searching for cover. That’s when she spotted it—a cabinet tucked in the corner, near a large painting. Without thinking, she yanked it open and shoved herself inside, curling into the small space.

Her breathing was erratic, heart slamming against her ribs. Through the tiny crack of the door, she saw it—a shadow stepping into the hallway.

Xylon.

He stood there for a second, scanning the space. His posture was relaxed, but there was a certain sharpness to his movements, like a predator surveying its territory.

A moment passed. Then another.

Then—a soft click.

The door locked.

Iona didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.

She stayed curled in the cabinet, waiting. Only when the silence stretched long enough did she finally exhale—realizing she had just barely escaped the worst kind of awkward encounter.

Iona stayed in the cabinet for what felt like an eternity. Her heart was still hammering, her breath uneven, but at least the hallway had gone silent. Xylon had locked his door. He wasn’t coming out anytime soon.

She sighed, pressing her forehead against the wooden surface. What the hell was she even doing? She wasn’t some teenage girl caught sneaking around—she was a grown woman hiding in a damn cabinet because her stomach chose violence at the worst possible moment.

Slowly, she pushed the door open and peeked out. The hallway was empty.

Not wanting to push her luck, she tiptoed back to her room, shutting the door behind her as softly as she could. She considered going back out for food, but her dignity had already suffered enough for the night.

Screw it. Sleep was a good alternative to hunger.

Throwing herself onto the bed, she buried her face into the pillow, deciding she’d just deal with everything tomorrow.

Guess she’ll just have to swallow her own saliva.

The next morning, hunger was the first thing to greet her.

Iona groaned, rubbing her stomach as she dragged herself out of bed. She had never gone a whole night without eating before, and now she was paying the price for it.

Lazily, she made her way to the kitchen, her movements sluggish from hunger. Her expectations were low, just a simple goal, get food and hopefully not embarrass herself again.

When she entered, the familiar scent of coffee and toast filled the air.

There, sitting at the middle of the rectangular dining table, was Xylon—alone.

Iona frowned slightly. Wasn’t there someone with him last night?

She glanced around, expecting to see some trace of the woman—a misplaced glass, a coat on a chair, or at least the awkward tension of a morning-after encounter. But there was nothing. Just Xylon, sipping his coffee with his laptop open, looking like he didn’t just spend the night entertaining someone.

Before she could stop herself, the thought slipped out. “Wait—why are you alone?”

Xylon’s fingers stilled on his laptop keyboard, and he slowly lifted his gaze to her. “Why do you sound so concerned?”

“I’m not,” she said quickly. “I just thought—”

His brows arched slightly. “Thought what?”

Iona chose not to answer, pressing her lips into a thin line. There was no point in explaining herself—it would only make things more awkward.

Xylon studied her for a moment, then, without a hint of interest, shifted his attention back to his laptop, as if the conversation wasn’t worth pursuing.

But then—

“You didn’t eat last night,” he stated.

Iona blinked.

“Felicia told me.” He took a sip of his coffee, completely uninterested. Then, with a casual shrug, he added, “Not that I care, but if you suddenly drop dead, that’s not my responsibility.”

Iona scowled. Of course. Even his concern—if she could even call it that—came wrapped in sarcasm.

Iona scowled. “Wow, Xylon. That almost sounded like concern. You better be careful, someone might think you actually have a heart.”

Xylon chuckled, setting his cup down. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just don’t want a corpse ruining my morning coffee.”

Iona rolled her eyes and grabbed a plate, stuffing a piece of toast in her mouth. Still standing up.

Xylon leaned back, watching her with amusement.