Cottage Getaway Pt. 1

The hum of the car engine filled the silence as you stared out the passenger-side window, watching the city lights fade behind you. Richard had picked you up about an hour ago, and now the two of you were well on your way up north, leaving Toronto behind as he drove toward the secluded cottage where Damian and his close friends would be spending the weekend.

The Forget-Me-Mint had done its work. Whatever had transpired between your lips and Richard's cock was already slipping away, fading into the void where so many other moments had vanished before. It was better this way. It always was.

Instead, you turned your focus inward, running through everything you had packed before leaving your dorm.

The process had been methodical, driven by equal parts anticipation and nerves. You’d set aside the essentials first—your makeup bag, stocked with your foundation, eyeshadow palettes, lipsticks, and the brushes you used every day. The routine of doing your makeup had become second nature by now, a quiet ritual that grounded you before stepping into whatever role you had to play that day. You weren’t about to skip it just because you were heading to some lakeside retreat.

Clothes came next. You’d pulled out some of the new outfits from your shopping trip, carefully folding them into your suitcase. No formal dresses this time—this trip wasn’t about dazzling in evening gowns at a gala. This was about being effortlessly sexy, about finding that perfect balance between casual and captivating, the kind of allure that didn’t seem ****.

You remember you packed the sleek, skintight faux-leather pants, the ones that hugged your ass just right, paired with a cropped black top. You also packed a white halter top, a collection of bras, and so many other items.

For the nights, you remember you packed the delicate lace bra and matching thong set in deep wine-red. You weren’t delusional enough to think that seducing Damian Kane would be easy, but you also weren’t going to let your wardrobe be the thing that held you back, in any setting.

You threw in a couple of more comfortable pieces—an oversized hoodie for when you weren’t on the clock, soft lounge shorts, a tank top to sleep in. Your toiletries were neatly packed in a separate bag, every detail accounted for: cleanser, moisturizer, perfume. Even though you doubted anyone would be paying attention to the scent of your skin when they were looking at you, you wanted to smell perfect.

Before you left, you’d set the $600 for rent on the table, placing it where it needed to be. That still left you with a comfortable $2,000, more than enough for whatever came next.

Now, here you were, heading north toward a secluded cottage, tucked away in a car with Richard Solano, the man who had become both an asset and a complication. You shifted in your seat, stealing a glance at him as he focused on the road ahead. He looked pleased with himself, though that was nothing new.

"You're in a good mood," you noted, voice teasing as you leaned back, crossing your legs.

Richard shot you a sideways glance, smirking. "Why wouldn't I be? A weekend away, beautiful scenery, excellent company..." His eyes flickered to you meaningfully before returning to the road. "I'd say I'm doing pretty damn well."

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. "Hope you're not expecting me to be at your beck and call the whole time," you said lightly, though you both knew that wasn’t exactly true.

"Of course not," he replied smoothly. "I know you're here for myself and also Damian."

His bluntness sent a ripple of something through you—not quite discomfort, but not far from it either. "And here I thought you wanted me all to yourself," you said, keeping your tone playful even as you studied his reaction.

Richard chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, I do, sweetheart. But I also know what this is." He reached over, his fingers brushing your bare thigh for just a second before he refocused on driving. "I get what you want to do, other than me."

Your heart thudded just a little harder, but you ignored it, forcing a smirk instead. "Good," you said, exhaling slowly. "Then let's make this trip worth it."

Apprehension twisted in your gut, but you swallowed it down, pushing the feeling deep where it couldn't reach you. This weekend could finally be it—the end of this ridiculous trial, the final step before Aphrodite released her hold on you.

You just had to make Damian Kane fall for you first.

The road stretched endlessly ahead, flanked by towering trees whose dark silhouettes blurred past the windows. Richard’s car cut through the quiet wilderness with ease, the purr of the engine a low, steady hum beneath the soft music playing from the stereo. You shifted in your seat, stretching your legs just enough to brush against his thigh, feeling the smooth leather beneath you and the lingering warmth of your own body.

The apprehension hadn’t left you—not entirely. It curled low in your stomach, a coiled knot of nervous anticipation that you refused to let show. You were close. Maybe the closest you’d ever been to finally finishing this trial, to seducing Damian Kane and closing this absurd chapter of your life. The curse had stretched itself through every fiber of your existence, twisting your identity, your choices, your body into something you barely recognized some days. And yet...

You glanced at your reflection in the passenger-side mirror. Your lips, still painted with the subtle gloss you’d applied before leaving, curled slightly at the sight of yourself. There had been a time—God, had it really only been months ago?—when you would’ve looked at this face and felt like a stranger was staring back. Now, you didn’t mind the way your lashes framed your eyes just right, how your cheekbones seemed sharper with the right contour. You didn’t even mind how instinctual the daily makeup routine had become.

You liked the way you looked. You liked the way you felt.

Maybe that was the real curse—how much of this you had learned to enjoy.

A smirk played on your lips as you turned your head, catching Richard watching you from the corner of his eye. "Eyes on the road, Solano," you teased.

His smirk mirrored yours, lazy and satisfied. "You can’t blame me for looking. You’re a damn distraction."

The act was effortless now. Playing the part, keeping Richard entertained—it wasn’t hard. If anything, it was easier than it should’ve been. And that was what made the feeling in your chest twist tighter, a strange mix of pride and something else you didn’t want to name.

Your mind drifted back, to where all of this had started. The trials.

The first had been a whirlwind—navigating the twisted world of sororities, Michelle and Ashley, the parties, the reckless sorority girl act that had pushed you deeper into the role you were meant to play. You’d secured Charlotte’s spot. You’d won. But you also knew that world wasn’t done with you yet. There was no way it would be that easy.

Then came Marcus Chase. You scoffed at the thought, resting your elbow against the window as you stared at the road ahead. The video of you and Marcus had gone public. There was no undoing that. You had thrown yourself into the fire for that win, and it had worked, but at what cost? At least that chapter was closed. Marcus would never hit you up again.

And then there was Tyche’s favor—Serena’s wedding. You still owed her that. You had agreed, and the gods never forgot a debt. You would have to play the role of a dutiful bridesmaid, smiling and laughing and pretending that you were happy for some random socialite whose life had nothing to do with yours.

How ironic was it, really? That you had slipped into this world so seamlessly that being a bridesmaid at some high-profile wedding didn’t even faze you anymore?

But none of that compared to the real weight pressing against your chest. Liam.

It had been almost a month since you last spoke to him. Since he had broken something between you. Since he had—what? Chosen Aphrodite over you? Over your friendship? It wasn’t just betrayal that sat heavy in your stomach. It was the way things had soured, how it had all unraveled so fast, and the worst part was... you didn’t know if you even wanted to fix it.

The guilt clawed at you sometimes, but you pushed it down. You weren’t the one who had to apologize.

You weren’t.

"You’re thinking too hard," Richard murmured, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. His hand slid absently over your thigh, squeezing lightly. "Something on your mind?"

You **** a breathy laugh, tilting your head toward him with a smirk. "What, you worried about me now?"

His fingers flexed against your skin. "I’m always worried when a girl as beautiful as you gets too quiet."

You leaned closer, just enough that your warm breath brushed his face. "Relax, Richie. I’m just thinking about all the fun we’re about to have this weekend."

He exhaled a low chuckle, squeezing your thigh one more time before pulling his hand away. "That’s more like it."

You let the conversation drift after that, returning your gaze to the road. The nervous excitement still bubbled beneath your skin, but you held onto it, letting it fuel you rather than consume you.

This was it.

Your final move.

Damian Kane wouldn’t know what hit him.