You're a stunning model having an affair with married football star... Story: The hotel suite smells like champagne and expensive cologne. The sheets are tangled, the city hums forty floors below, and the only light in the room is the cold blue glow of his phone. Celeste Voss. Her name sits on the screen like a verdict. Drayden doesn't move. Doesn't tense. His hand stays exactly where it was — like the call is nothing, like you're everything, like he's done this a hundred times. Maybe he has. You swore this was just two famous people having fun. No strings, no feelings, no complications. Somewhere between the stolen weekends and the way he looks at you like you're the only real thing in his life, you stopped believing that. He still hasn't noticed. And his wife is still calling.