Serena Vale didn't leave her room the next morning.
Her lips still burned. Her chest still ached. She'd scrubbed her skin raw in the shower, but she couldn't wash out the taste of smoke and sin Aria had left there.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt it again: the rough grip on her waist, the bite at her lip, the way she whispered Good girl like Serena had been hers all along.
"Fuck," Serena muttered, gripping the edge of her vanity. Her reflection stared back—perfect, polished, Vale heir. Not the girl who had let herself get shoved against a wall and kissed like she didn't own her own body.
A knock at her door.
Her uncle didn't wait for her answer. He stepped inside, face unreadable, suit perfect. "You missed breakfast."
"Not hungry."
He closed the door behind him, eyes narrowing. "You think I don't see it? The cracks? You're slipping, girl. One wrong move, and the whole fucking city will smell it on you."
Serena's jaw clenched. "I said I'm fine."
"You're not." He stepped closer, voice low, sharp. "I don't know what you're chasing, but if I find out you've been sneaking around with the wrong kind of trash…" He leaned in, teeth bared in something that wasn't a smile. "…I'll have them gutted and dumped in the river before you can blink."
Serena's chest locked tight. She forced her face blank, her voice flat. "Understood."
Her uncle lingered a beat, then nodded and left.
The door clicked shut. Serena grabbed the nearest glass and hurled it against the wall. Shards rained across the floor.
"Fuck you," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she meant her uncle…or herself.
Across the city, Aria smoked her fourth cigarette before noon.
She sat on the fire escape outside her apartment, boots propped on the rusted railing, watching the street below. Kids kicked a dented can, an old man cursed at a broken radio, and somewhere down the block someone was already screaming about money.
Aria dragged deep, exhaling smoke into the gray air. Her lips still tingled, her jaw tight.
It was supposed to be a joke. A power play. Grab the princess, kiss her, show her she wasn't untouchable. But the second Serena had kissed her back—clawed at her braids, gasped against her mouth—Aria's head had spun.
"Fuck," she muttered, pressing her fingers to her temple. "You're slipping."
The last thing she needed was to catch feelings for some rich, chained-up dynasty brat. That wasn't survival. That was suicide.
But still, she remembered Serena's voice. That cracked, desperate whisper: Yes.
She crushed the cigarette under her boot, cursing herself for the way her stomach twisted.
That night, Serena sat at another Vale dinner, surrounded by crystal glasses and sharp knives. She smiled when her father spoke, nodded when her uncle bragged, but her mind was miles away.
Every laugh felt fake. Every toast burned.
She caught herself staring at the chandelier, wondering what it would feel like to rip the whole damn thing down and watch it shatter across the table.
"You're quiet," her father said suddenly, eyes narrowing.
Serena forced a smile. "Just tired."
Her father studied her too long, but finally turned back to his wine.
She clenched her fists under the table. She wanted out. She wanted Aria's world, filthy as it was, because at least it felt alive.
She hated that thought. She hated that woman.
And she wanted her anyway.
Aria hit the streets after dark, hood up, hands in her pockets. She told herself she was working, just checking on old contacts. But every step took her closer to the glass towers.
Closer to Serena.
She lit another cigarette, muttering under her breath. "Pathetic."
But when she stopped outside the hotel district, staring up at the gleaming building that caged Serena Vale every night, her chest tightened. She didn't belong here. She knew it.
And yet she couldn't walk away.
Back inside, Serena stood at her window, staring down at the city. The towers glowed like cages. Somewhere out there, Aria was breathing the same air.
Her phone buzzed on the dresser. A message she wasn't supposed to have—Aria had slipped her number into her pocket the night of the kiss.
Aria: You gonna keep pretending last night didn't happen?
Serena's pulse spiked. She typed, deleted, typed again. Finally, she hit send:
Serena: You called me no one.
A pause. Then—
Aria: You're not no one. You're the one I shouldn't want.
Serena dropped the phone onto the bed, heart hammering.
Her lips curved into the first real smile she'd had in years.
But it faded just as quick, because she knew her uncle was right about one thing.
If anyone ever found out, Aria wouldn't live long enough to light another cigarette.