ped inside was indeed the face I remembered from Olympus Club soft features, composed expression, respectful posture. But despite the familiar exterior, something felt... off. He wiped h

cer when I was sixteen. I've always stayed away from cigarettes." I turned toward Rachel, my brows furrowed. Rachel, calm and composed as ever, nodded. "Ms. Shaw, it's true. His mother passed two years ago. His father is terminal. He worked at an investment firm before switching to Olympus Club to pay the bills." I felt the color drain from my face. No smoking. A lean frame. A soft-spoken voice. He wasn't the man I'd slept with that night. The man from Olympus Club had been strong-his body hard, movements confident. He smelled of smoke and sandalwood. This wasn't him. I had made a mistake. I stood. "Take off your shirt." Sean hesitated. His cheeks flushed as he stood, clearly reluctant, but he didn't protest. He began to unbutton his shirt with quiet compliance. When the last button fell away, my doubts were confirmed. His chest was smooth. Slender. Barely any muscle definition. I stepped forward, pressing a finger lightly against his chest, then squeezing his upper arm. Too soft. Too thin. Too fragile. The man I'd slept with had lifted me like I weighed nothing. Had moved like he could break me-and almost did. This body wasn't capable of that. I had slept with the wrong person. How had I messed this up? I picked up my phone and shot a message to Catherine. Within moments, my phone buzzed with her call. "You really did sleep with the wrong guy?" she asked, bewildered. "I was drunk," I sighed, pressing my fingers to my temple. "My memory's foggy. I didn't even look properly the next morning. I had to rush to that tea party." "Oh, Anna..." Catherine groaned. "You've really done