Lilly didn't usually wake up next to someone.
She wasn't built for it, but she was too used to independence, too used to armor. But that morning, as light filtered through the sheer curtains of the hotel suite, she lay still, eyes open, watching the slow rise and fall of Armani's chest beside her.
For a moment, everything was quiet. Peaceful.
And terrifying.
Because for the first time in a long time, she felt something.
Not just lust. Not just satisfaction.
Something dangerous. Something real.
Lilly rose silently from the bed, slipping into a silk robe, her heart pounding in a way she didn't recognize. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
You crossed the line.
She splashed water on her face, trying to clear the fog from her thoughts, but nothing washed away the memory of Armani's hands, her mouth, the way she looked at her after.
Like she already knew how Lilly would try to run.
Later that morning . Rivera Studios, Miami
They flew back that afternoon. Armani was quiet on the plane very professional, contained, like nothing had happened.
Lilly appreciated the discretion.
But hated how empty it felt.
Back in the office, the buzz around the New York pitch was electric. Staff gathered in cliques whispering about global campaigns, whispers of Vogue features, even a Paris Fashion Week appearance.
But not everyone was celebrating.
Delilah Santos the head of Marketing, and Lilly's longest-standing executive job was less than thrilled. And she wasn't subtle about it.
"Big pitch in New York," Delilah said, eyes narrowing as she passed Armani in the hall. "Heard someone new stole the spotlight."
Armani smiled politely. "Just doing my job."
"Mmm," Delilah hummed. "Must be a really special skill set to get so close to Ms. Rivera so fast."
The air went cold.
Armani didn't respond. She didn't need to.
But the words stuck in her.
Lilly's Office ~That Afternoon
Armani knocked softly before stepping in. She was poised as always, tablet in hand.
"We need to talk," she said.
Lilly nodded. "Close the door."
Once it clicked shut, Armani walked closer, keeping her voice even. "Delilah's starting to suspect something."
"She always suspects something," Lilly muttered, not meeting her eyes. "She doesn't like when people get close to me."
"Should she be worried?" Armani asked quietly.
Lilly looked up, something sharp in her gaze. "I'm not here to play house, Armani."
"I'm not asking you to."
"But last night..."
"Was real."
That silenced Lilly.
Armani continued, stepping forward, softer now. "You don't have to label it. You don't even have to acknowledge it in daylight. But don't stand there and pretend it didn't happen."
Lilly swallowed hard. "This can't affect our work."
"It won't. Unless you let it."
Their eyes locked.
Tension. Frustration. Longing. All at once.
Then, a knock broke the moment.
Delilah stepped in without waiting. "Lilly—sorry to interrupt, but there's a problem with the LA shipment. You'll want to see this."
Her eyes darted to Armani, lingering just long enough.
"I'll be right there," Lilly said coolly.
As Delilah turned, Armani caught the look—the smug little flicker in her eyes.
A storm was brewing.
And it was wearing red lipstick and holding a clipboard.
Scene shift ~Armani's POV
Armani was never the jealous type.
But something about Delilah's presence made her skin itch. Not because of her closeness to Lilly, but because of the way she looked at her. Like a wolf circling something she didn't think deserved to be in her territory.
Later that evening, after the office began to clear, Armani stayed late to finish her reports. She didn't expect Lilly to walk in.
But she did.
Same blazer. Same heels. But a different energy.
"Delilah's watching us," Lilly said quietly. "She won't stop."
"So what do we do?"
"I don't know," Lilly admitted. "But if this gets out…"
Armani stood and walked over, voice low. "Let me be clear. I didn't come here to cause problems. I didn't come here to be your secret either."
"I'm not ready for everyone to know."
"I'm not asking you to post it on the company Slack," Armani said with a smirk. "But I won't be treated like a mistake."
"You're not," Lilly said instantly. "You're not a mistake."
"Then stop acting like I am."
Lilly hesitated then reached for her.
Armani stepped into her arms.
Their kiss was brief this time, restrained, but full of meaning.
"Just… give me time," Lilly whispered against her lips.
"You have it," Armani replied.
"But only for so long."
Under the Surface
Delilah never missed a detail.
She was one of those women who could slice a room with her eyes alone—watchful, precise, and entirely too perceptive for comfort. She had been with Rivera Studios since its early days, riding the wave of Lilly's rise. But while Lilly grew bolder, more creative, more commanding, Delilah remained the same—poised, territorial, and ruthlessly loyal to the idea that no one should get closer to Lilly than her.
Which is why Armani Sloan was a problem.
Delilah watched her from across the conference room during Monday's strategy meeting. Armani spoke confidently, offering revisions to a fall campaign without even glancing at her notes. Her voice was smooth, her suggestions sharp. She wasn't trying to prove anything—she already knew she belonged.
And that made Delilah's skin crawl.
She noticed how Lilly barely interrupted her. How their eyes met for half a second too long when the room laughed. How Lilly's hand lingered on her coffee cup just after Armani passed it to her.
Delilah saw it all.
After the meeting, she followed Lilly into her office without knocking.
"We need to talk," Delilah said, voice clipped.
Lilly didn't look up from her screen. "About?"
"Her."
Lilly's gaze flicked upward. "Armani?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Lils," Delilah snapped, stepping closer. "She's too close. You're acting different."
Lilly's expression stayed calm, but her jaw tightened.
"She's doing her job. Better than most."
Delilah folded her arms. "This has nothing to do with her performance. And everything to do with that thing you're pretending isn't happening between you two."
Lilly stood slowly, every inch of her posture lethal. "I don't owe you explanations about my personal life."
"You do when it threatens this company," Delilah said, eyes hard. "You're the brand, Lilly. If this blows up, we lose credibility. Investors. Clients."
"I know how to run my own empire."
Delilah stepped even closer. "Then don't let a fling take it down."
Silence.
Lilly stared at her, unblinking.
"We're done here," she said softly.
Delilah hesitated. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She turned and left the office, heels clicking like gunshots.
Scene shift ~Armani's apartment, that night
Armani stood barefoot in the kitchen, wine glass in hand, staring out the window at the city lights.
Her phone buzzed.
Lilly: Still awake?
Armani: Barely.
Lilly: Can I come over?
Armani stared at the screen for a long moment before typing back.
Armani: You're already here, aren't you?
The intercom rang seconds later.
Twenty minutes later
Lilly curled up on Armani's couch, shoes off, jacket draped across the armrest. She looked different here but softer, stripped of her power armor, curls loose around her face.
"I had a fight with Delilah," she said quietly.
"I figured."
"She knows."
Armani sipped her wine. "I assumed."
"She thinks I'm reckless."
Armani leaned back, stretching her legs. "Are you?"
Lilly didn't answer.
Instead, she looked over, vulnerable in a way Armani rarely saw. "She thinks I'll lose everything if this gets out."
"And what do you think?"
Lilly looked away. "I think I'm tired of pretending I don't want you."
The words landed between them like a confession.
Armani set her glass down and walked over, kneeling in front of Lilly, her hands gently resting on her thighs.
"You don't have to pretend here."
Their kiss this time wasn't rushed or heated. It was slow. Gentle. An acknowledgment.
Lilly pulled Armani up, leading her toward the bedroom but not with urgency, but with intent.
The room was dim, city light casting golden stripes across the bed.
They undressed each other like a quiet ritual, hands careful, kisses soft, nothing frantic. This time, it wasn't about release. It was about connection.
About saying the words they didn't dare speak.
Lilly traced her fingers down Armani's bare spine as they moved together, skin against skin, breath meeting breath.
It felt like trust.
It felt like a decision.
And for the first time, it scared Lilly less than she thought it would.
The next morning
Lilly woke up before Armani. She lay there in silence, watching her breathe, feeling something she hadn't felt in years.
Peace.
But as the sun rose, so did the weight of reality.
She got up quietly, slipped on her clothes, and left a note beside the bed.
"I'm not running. I'm figuring it out. – L."
Then she was gone.
But the scent of her perfume lingered.
And Armani, still half-asleep, reached out for her in the sheets, whispering her name without meaning to.