Isla had done everything right for three days.

She ignored his texts.

Dodged his calls.

Focused on work, took long showers, cleaned obsessively, and even tried meditating—which only lasted three minutes before her mind wandered back to him. To the way his lips had felt on her neck. To the way his voice had cracked slightly when he whispered her name.

She told herself it was over. A moment of madness. Nothing more.

But by the fourth night, alone in her dimly lit living room, with her ...