Chapter 17: Part 3 - Take Responsibility

= Sarah POV =

Chris pulled back, her eyes searching mine as though she could see right through me—every thought, every hesitation. Her hands lingered on my arms, steadying me even as my legs wobbled beneath me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could form the words, Chris frowned. She tilted her head, pressing her forehead lightly against mine.

"You're burning up," she murmured, her voice low but firm. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes—now."

Before I could protest, Chris slipped an arm around my waist, her touch solid and unyielding, and guided me out of the bathroom.

I barely had time to register where we were before my attention snagged on the sheer opulence of the room we stepped into.

It wasn't just a bedroom. It was a sanctuary.

The towering four-poster bed dominated the space, its heavy satin drapes pooling at the edges like molten gold. An intricately carved chest sat at the foot of the bed, its wood polished to a mirror sheen. The floor was covered in plush rugs that looked so soft I imagined sinking into them like sand.

Against the far wall stood a massive desk scattered with delicate stationery and glass jars filled with pens, the setup so carefully arranged it seemed almost untouched. But the true star of the room was the wardrobe—floor-to-ceiling, spanning the entire length of the wall, its lacquered doors gleaming under the soft light.

"I… I've never seen a room like this in the cafe," I said, my voice trailing off in awe.

"That's because you're not in the cafe."

Chris's words snapped me back to reality, and I turned to face her.

"You stumbled so far through the old servant quarter passageways that you ended up in Ruby's actual residence." She gave me a faint smile as though amused by my wide-eyed reaction. "It's still attached to the cafe, but it's off-limits to most people. You got lucky."

"Lucky?" I echoed, glancing around nervously. "Should we even be here? This seems like a bad idea."

Chris turned from the wardrobe, her arms loaded with clothes—soft, casual pieces meant more for comfort than formality. Her smile was calm, reassuring.

"Don't worry about it. I already called Ruby. She said it's fine if we need to use this guest room."

I exhaled a shaky breath as she strode over and dropped the clothes onto the bed in neat piles. An oversized shirt. A padded singlet. Sweatpants that looked three sizes too big but infinitely comfortable.

I reached out, brushing my fingers over the fabric. It was all so practical, yet the intimacy of it made my stomach twist.

"These look comfortable enough to wear home, so why don't you get changed, and I'll take us home?" Chris said, her smile sharp but warm. She turned to leave, but I wasn't about to let her off that easily.

I grabbed her wrist, halting her mid-step.

"Are you seriously going to gloss over what happened between you and that chef?" I bit out, my voice low but seething with the heat that had been building up ever since I saw them together.

Chris's brow furrowed, but she didn't move. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice smooth, but there was a slight edge to it.

I let go of her wrist and stood up from the chest, the angry heat bubbling up inside me again. I couldn't help it. "It's just like you, isn't it? Making demands of me, telling me to get myself together, but allowing yourself free reign to flirt with whoever you want. You're always in control, aren't you?"

I was pissed, and the words came out harsher than I meant. "Don't you feel ashamed of your loose behavior?" I sneered, spinning away from her in frustration.

For a moment, Chris said nothing, just stared at me. The silence between us stretched, thick with tension, until she spoke, her voice icy but measured. "My loose behavior?"