Dinner had been torture.
Sophia had slithered into the dining room like she owned the place, wearing a slinky red dress that hugged every curve and dipped so low her t**s were practically spilling out. She’d laughed too loud at Victor’s dry comments, leaned in too close when passing him the wine, and “accidentally” brushed her hand along his arm every chance she got.
Lila had sat across from them, fork clenched so tight her knuckles went white, watching her stepsister flirt shamelessly with the man who’d f****d her senseless by the pool and on his desk just hours earlier. Victor’s eyes had flicked to Lila occasionally — dark, knowing — but he hadn’t stopped Sophia. Not really.
By the time dessert was cleared, Lila was vibrating with rage and need.
She found them on the back terrace af
