I woke up slowly, cocooned in warmth and the lingering scent of Mateo's cologne. His arm was heavy across my waist, his breath steady and warm against the back of my neck.

"My beautiful man"

For a few peaceful, fleeting seconds, everything felt perfect, a blissful escape from reality. Then, like a dam bursting, last night crashed back into me with full force – the fake tears I had carefully cultivated, the hidden smile I had plastered on my face, the way I had played the innocent victim while twisting the knife with calculated precision.

Crap.

Guilt twisted sharp in my stomach, a burning knot of shame that threatened to...