Lilith’s Pov
“What do you mean it’s locked from the outside?” Killian’s voice cut through the air like a sharp blade.
I turned slowly, folding my arms like the innocent prisoner I absolutely was not. “What does it sound like, Mr. Genius? The door–our only exit–is locked. From. The. Outside.”
“Who did that?” he asked, brows furrowed in this ridiculous mixture of confusion and rising panic. “When you closed the door, did you do it improperly? Maybe there’s an issue with the latch or-”
“There’s no issue,” I interrupted, deadpan. “Except the obvious one where someone very deliberately locked us in like a pair of hormonal teenagers in a sitcom. Which, for the record, I’m not laughing at.”
Killian didn’t listen. He did that thing where he tried to act like brute force would solve everything. He turned to the door and barged into it. Once. Twice. Thrice.
Nothing.
“Right,” I said with the world’s most dramatic sigh, “because that always works in the movies.”
“I know how locks work, Lilith.”
“Do you? Because your shoulder says otherwise.”
He whipped out his phone with an annoyed grunt. “I’m calling Maya.”
“Please, do. Maybe call Batman while you’re at it.”
He dialed, turned toward the door, and the moment he hit call–ring ring–we both heard it. The ringtone. Loud and crystal clear. From the other side of the door.
Killian’s jaw twitched. “Maya?”
“Yes?” came her cheerful voice–way too cheerful–from right outside.
“Can you open the door from the outside? I think it has… an issue.”
“It doesn’t have an issue,” Maya replied sweetly. “Emily and I locked it.”
“You what?” I moved closer, blinking like I’d heard wrong. “You locked it?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, as if she hadn’t just admitted to full–blown hostage–taking. “We locked it. You and your wife need to talk, reconcile, and then maybe, just maybe, live happily ever after.”
I blinked again. “What do you mean you and Emily?”
“Emily?” I shouted, raising my voice a little, leaning closer to the door.
“Yes, I’m here,” came Emily’s voice–meek but not at all remorseful.
“What is this? What kind of rom–com nonsense is this? You and Maya planned this?”
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” she said with a giggle. “But for now, stay with your husband. Enjoy the moment. Talk about the kids you’re going to have.”
“Kids?!” I shrieked.
Killian stepped forward, tone stern. “Maya, Emily, stop this madness and open the door. Now.”
“Nope.” Maya said. “Also, we’re cutting off the internet. You’re not going to hide behind work and ignore your wife anymore. This is happening.”
“You wouldn’t dare-” Killian started.
Silence.
A beat later, Maya’s voice came back. “I dared. Try calling anyone now.”
Killian stared at his phone. No signal.
“Don’t worry,” Maya continued, way too calmly. “We’ll bring food little by little. And if you act smart… next time might be worse. Enjoy.”
I just… slumped. “Emily,” I called, one last attempt at salvation. “You can’t seriously be siding with Maya here.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding a little too sincere. “I just want this marriage to work. I really do. Bye.”
And just like that, they were gone.
I turned to Killian slowly, only to find him already watching me like I had horns and a tail.
“What?” I asked, exasperated.
“I know you were part of this,” he said flatly. “Trying to trap me here and seduce me or something?”
I nearly choked. “Excuse you? Don’t you dare accuse me of something I didn’t do. This was clearly your meddling sister’s idea–probably influenced Emily with her princess–of–doom speeches.”
Killian scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well, thank God your belief is not a currency I trade in,” I snapped. “I don’t need you to believe me.”
He folded his arms. “Fine. But as long as we’re stuck in here, stay away from me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said with a shrug. “That wasn’t even on my to–do list.”
With a dramatic turn, I walked to the bed, yanked off my flip–flops, climbed onto the mattress like I owned it, wrapped myself in the blanket like a burrito of rage, and leaned back against the headboard.
Killian took the couch… on the other end of the room, thank God…he and started fiddling with his phone again, trying to retrieve his lost signal.
“You need to stop,” I said, already annoyed. “They’ve cut the network. You won’t get anywhere.”
“Mind your business,” he snapped, not looking up. “And stop talking to me.”
I stared at him. “Wow. When are you ever not allergic to basic conversations? Can’t you answer like a normal person for once in your life?”
He didn’t answer. Of course.
1 rolled my eyes and sighed, blaming myself for even opening my mouth.
Then, without thinking. I grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV
I didn’t even know what I clicked, but suddenly the television blinked to life, Movie channels. Oh yes. I could almost cry with joy
“Oh my God,” I giggled like a kid who just found candy in a locked drawer. “There’s movies for us to watch while we pass time Since there’s no internet connection for you to go and bury your face in spreadsheets or world domination, this is a perfect plan B.”
Killian groaned like I just handed him a spoonful of poison. “Can’t you just leave me alone? What is this–your perfect pretty plan? We watch a movie, then we kiss, then we live happily ever after? Is that it?”
I blinked. “That wasn’t even in my head. So wait… does that mean the kiss is still in your head?” I gasped dramatically. “Oh my God–Killian wants to kiss me, Killian wants to kiss me!”
“Don’t. Don’t do that.” He pointed a warning finger without looking up. “I don’t even want to sit beside you, not to talk of kissing you.”
1 pouted, pushing my lips out like a cartoon character. “You just wanna kiss me. I know,”
He ignored me. Of course. Classic Killian.
“Seriously, it’s just a movie. Sit by the edge of the bed or something,” I muttered. “Unless you prefer burning your brain out searching for network in a place where it clearly doesn’t exist.”
No answer.
Perfect.
I pressed play and let the movie roll, refusing to care what His Royal Rudeness decided. Ten minutes passed. He was still glued to his phone like a lifeline. Maybe scrolling through past emails. Maybe crying over lost Wi–Fi. Who knows?
And then… he stood up.
I don’t know why I noticed, but I did. He pulled off his suit jacket. Then the tie. Then the shirt. Oh sweet heavens. I had to act like I didn’t care, like the movie was my entire life. But oh no, my eyes were glued to his back like a magnet to steel.
He had a tattoo. At his back. A dark, intricate ink that looked like a scar–but not quite. I couldn’t figure out the shape. It was hauntingly beautiful. So was he.
He came over and sat down… at the other end of the bed.
Finally.
I didn’t say it loud.
Okay, I did.
“Finally.”
He didn’t reply.
Movie kept rolling. Ten more minutes. Twenty. Thirty. The silence was comfortable. Then he spoke,
“Do you miss her?”
I turned “What
“Do you miss her?
I swallowed. “Yeah I do.”
That was all. No more words.
My eyes shifted to the wine corner. A glass wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it would dull the tension in the air. I walked over and poured two glasses of red. As I returned, I held one out. “You might be thirsty. Wine?”
He looked at me, then the glass. “Yeah, sure.”
“Oh wow,” I gasped. “He said yeah, sure. Is that a full sentence? With a reply? What a miracle.”
He took the glass without a word. I sipped mine first.
Bleh.
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