The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism

If Lukas’s power scaled with multiple partners, if variety increased the effect, then he’d need more. Other women. Strong women, ideally. Women with their own Aspects and connections who could elevate him further.

Diane turned off the shower and reached for a towel. Water dripped from her hair onto the bathmat as she dried herself carefully. Every movement still reminded her of last night. The ache in her muscles. The tenderness between her legs.

Whoever Lukas found, whoever caught his attention going forward, she would vet them personally. No random girls looking for a Hero boyfriend. No social climbers trying to attach themselves to potential. No one who would distract him from Halloran, from his license, from becoming everything he could be.

Only women who would help him grow.

She wrapped the towel around herself and walked back into the bedroom. Her phone buzzed again. Four more emails. Another text from her assistant, this one in all caps.

Reality crashed back down. She had work. Meetings starting at nine. A client crisis that apparently couldn’t wait. And she’d promised to be at the office by eight-thirty to deal with whatever emergency had exploded overnight.

Diane opened her closet and pulled out a charcoal pencil skirt and cream silk blouse. Professional armor. The kind of outfit that said she had her life together, that she was in complete control, that she definitely hadn’t spent last night getting railed by a teenager in her care.

She dressed mechanically, her body moving through familiar motions while her mind stayed elsewhere. The underwear drawer presented a problem. Everything felt too tight, too restrictive against her sensitive skin. She settled on the softest pair she owned and a matching bra that didn’t push or squeeze.

Makeup next. Foundation to even her skin tone. Concealer layered thick over the marks on her neck. Eyeliner and mascara to disguise how little sleep she’d gotten. Lipstick in a professional nude shade that wouldn’t draw attention.

By the time she finished, Diane Fitzgerald the CEO was staring back from the mirror. Put together. Competent. Showing no signs of the absolute debauchery that had happened in this room just hours ago.

Perfect.

Her phone rang as she was gathering her things. Her assistant, finally graduating from texts to actual calls.

"Morning, sugar," Diane answered, her drawl sliding back into place like a favorite coat. "I saw your messages. What’s on fire?"

"Sterling," her assistant said without preamble. "He posted something on social media last night that’s getting torn apart. His approval rating dropped six points overnight and his agency is threatening to drop him if we can’t fix it."

Victor Sterling. The Hero-turned-actor they’d watched in that ridiculous spy movie last night. Diane remembered his perfectly styled hair and dramatic action sequences. She also remembered Lukas’s hand on her thigh while Sterling defused a bomb on screen.

"Send me the post," Diane said, already walking toward the door. "I’ll review it on the way to the office. Schedule an emergency meeting with Sterling for ten. And get his agent on the phone, tell them we’ll have a statement ready by noon."

"Already done. Meeting’s at ten, agent’s standing by."

"You’re a treasure, honey. I’ll be there in twenty."

Diane ended the call and paused at her bedroom door. The bed behind her was still unmade, sheets tangled and stained. Evidence of what she’d done. What they’d done.

She should strip the bed. Throw everything in the wash. Remove any sign that Lukas had been there.

But she didn’t. The thought of erasing those sheets, of washing away the proof, made something twist in her chest. Possessive and irrational and completely inappropriate for a woman her age.

She left the bed as it was and headed downstairs.

The house was quiet. Sloane’s bedroom door remained closed, which meant she was either still asleep or already in the gym. Lukas’s door was also closed, no light visible underneath.

Diane paused at the bottom of the stairs. She could knock. Check on him. Make sure he was okay after last night.

Make sure he wanted to do it again.

Her hand actually lifted toward his door before she caught herself. No. She had work. A client crisis. Meetings that couldn’t be rescheduled. She could talk to Lukas tonight when she got home.

Whenever that was. The Sterling situation would probably keep her at the office until ten or eleven at minimum.

Diane grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter and headed for the garage. Her sedan sat waiting, pristine and expensive and completely at odds with how messy her personal life had become.

She slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The dashboard clock read 7:47. She’d have just enough time to review Sterling’s disastrous post during the drive and formulate a response before the meeting.

But as she pulled out of the garage and onto the quiet morning street, her mind wasn’t on Victor Sterling or approval ratings or damage control strategies.

She was thinking about Lukas. About coming home late to find him still awake. About pulling him into her room again, stripping him down, testing whether last night was a fluke or if he really could go that many rounds without stopping.

About whether his hypothesis was correct. Whether fucking her had actually made him stronger.

Whether she could make him stronger again.

The lust haze hadn’t cleared. If anything, it had intensified. Distance and daylight should have brought clarity, should have made her recognize how deeply inappropriate everything was. Instead, the space between them just made her want to close it again.

She wanted him. Not just sexually, though god yes, that too. But she wanted to possess him in some fundamental way. Keep him close. Control who had access to him. Make sure anyone else who touched him was worthy of touching him.

Make sure they understood he was hers first.

Diane’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. The thought was insane. Possessive. Everything she’d built her reputation on avoiding in professional relationships.

But Lukas wasn’t a client. He was hers. Had been for nine years. And now, after last night, he was hers in an entirely new way.

Her phone buzzed with another email. She ignored it.

Tonight. She’d be home late, exhausted from crisis management and client meetings and all the other bullshit her job required. But she’d come home to Lukas. To the boy who’d made her scream his name. Who’d looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Who’d fucked her until she couldn’t remember why she’d ever thought it was a bad idea.

The commute took eighteen minutes. Diane spent the entire drive reviewing Sterling’s post, which was somehow even more idiotic than she’d expected. By the time she pulled into the agency parking garage, she had a response strategy formulated and three different damage control options ready to present.

But underneath the professional competence, underneath the strategic thinking and crisis management instincts, one thought kept circling back.

Lukas was getting stronger. And she was going to make sure he had everything he needed to become unstoppable.

Starting with her.