Lana's point of view
I jolt awake on the kitchen floor, my neck stiff and eyes swollen from crying all night. Sunlight streams through the windows, harsh and unforgiving. The letter lies crumpled beside me, Adam's handwriting blurring as I blink away fresh tears.
No. Enough crying.
I push myself up, ignoring the protest from my aching muscles and the throb of bruises around my neck. My head pounds with dehydration, but my thoughts are suddenly crystal clear.
I'm going to find Adam today and fix this!
The apartment feels hollow without him, his coffee mug missing from the dish rack, his laptop gone from the desk. I grab his abandoned phone from the counter, scrolling through his contacts until I find the name I've been avoiding for months.
Sarah Avery.
Adam's sister has complicated feelings about my job. But today, I don't care.
I take a deep breath and press call, steeling myself for the inevitable judgment.
"Hello?" Her voice is sharp, professional. "Adam?"
"Sarah, it's Lana. I need to talk to you about Adam."
A beat of silence. "Lana? Why are you calling from Adam's phone? Is he okay?"
The genuine concern in her voice makes my stomach twist. "That's why I'm calling. He... he left yesterday. I thought he might have contacted you."
"Left? What do you mean left?" Her voice rises slightly. "Adam hasn't called me in over a week."
"We had a fight," I say, the massive understatement making me wince. "He packed some clothes and disappeared. Left his phone behind."
"That doesn't sound like Adam at all." The suspicion in her voice is unmistakable now. "What did you do to him?"
I grip the phone tighter, biting back a defensive retort. Getting into it with Sarah won't help me find Adam.
"Look, I know you don't like me," I say, forcing my voice to remain steady. "But I love your brother, and I need to find him. Please, if he contacts you…"
"If my brother left you without even taking his phone, he clearly doesn't want to be found," Sarah interrupts coldly. "Especially by you."
The truth in her words slices through me, but I push on. "Sarah, please. I'm worried about him. He doesn't have much money, and…"
"Money?" She laughs, the sound brittle with disdain. "Is that what you're worried about? That he can't pay you back for whatever you bought him?"
"No! That's not…"
"Let me be clear," Sarah cuts me off, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. "If my brother calls me, I'm not saying shit about you. Not where you are, not that you called, nothing. As far as I'm concerned, you're dead to my family."
I grip the counter to steady myself, the venom in her voice making me physically recoil.
"Sarah, please," I whisper, hating the desperation in my voice. "I made a terrible mistake. I just want to make sure he's safe."
"Oh, now you care about his safety?" Her laugh is harsh, almost manic. "After what, six months of parading him around like some trophy boyfriend? Dragging him into your disgusting world?"
"That's not fair…"
"No, you know what's not fair?" Sarah's voice rises, trembling with barely contained fury. "My little brother disappearing from my life for months because he was too ashamed to tell me what his girlfriend really does for a living. Then suddenly, he's gone, leaving even his phone behind like he's running for his life."
My legs give out, and I sink into a kitchen chair, her words hitting like physical blows.
"I don't know what you did to him," she continues, "but I hope he never comes back to you. He deserves so much better than whatever sick game you're playing."
"It wasn't a game," I whisper, tears streaming down my face again. "I love him."
"Save it for your cameras, Lana." Her voice is suddenly tired, drained of emotion. "If Adam wants to be found, he'll reach out to someone he trusts. Clearly, that's not you anymore."
The line goes dead as Sarah hangs up on me. I slam Adam's phone down on the counter so hard the screen cracks.
Perfect. Another reminder of how I destroy everything I touch.
I groan, trying not to cry again. My head is pounding, and my throat feels raw from sobbing all night. I need to think clearly. Who was with Adam last? Someone at the studio mentioned seeing Morgan chase after him when he left.
Morgan. Of course.
My hands shake as I grab my own phone and find her contact. She picks up on the third ring, and I can hear the sound of traffic in the background.
"Hello?" Her voice is perfectly composed, as always.
"Morgan, it's Lana." I try to keep my voice steady. "I need to talk to you about Adam."
"Oh, Lana." There's a pause, and I hear what sounds like her turn signal. "I'm driving right now. What about Adam?"
"He's gone," I say, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. "Someone at the studio said they saw you follow him when he left yesterday. Did you talk to him? Do you know where he went?"
"Adam?" Morgan sounds genuinely surprised. "No, I haven't seen him since he ran out of the studio. I tried to catch him, but he was already gone by the time I got outside."
I close my eyes, fighting back another wave of tears. "Are you sure? You didn't talk to him at all?"
"I'm positive," she says, her voice softening with what sounds like concern. "I've been worried about him too. That scene with Leo was... intense. I'm not surprised he needed some space."
Something in her tone doesn't sit right with me, but I can't put my finger on what it is.
"If you hear from him," I say, "will you please tell him to call me? Or at least let me know he's okay?"
"Of course," Morgan replies smoothly. "I have to go now, Lana. I'm about to head into a tunnel. Take care of yourself, okay?"
The call ends before I can respond. I stare at my phone, the knot in my stomach tightening. Something feels off about that conversation.
"Where are you, Adam?"
—
Adam's point of view
The morning flies by as I settle into my new routine. I've already deep-cleaned the kitchen, reorganized the pantry by food group, then alphabetically within each section, and vacuumed the entire first floor. The physical labor feels good, giving my mind something concrete to focus on instead of replaying yesterday's disaster on repeat.
My stomach grumbles, reminding me it's already past noon. I wander back to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to survey the options. There's plenty of food, premium ingredients that would make any chef jealous, but I hesitate to prepare anything elaborate. Morgan mentioned she'd be in meetings until evening, and cooking a full meal just for myself feels wasteful.
Maybe just a sandwich? I drum my fingers against the counter, weighing my options, when the front door opens with a soft click.
"Hope I didn't disturb you jerking off!" Morgan's voice rings through the foyer, followed by the sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor.
I nearly drop the container of sliced turkey I'm holding as she appears in the kitchen doorway, her eyebrow arched suggestively.
"I… What? No, I was just…" I stammer, feeling heat rush to my face.
Morgan's eyes sweep over the kitchen, taking in my fully clothed state and the sandwich ingredients laid out on the counter. Her crimson lips curve into a smirk.
"Adam, jerking off in the kitchen, while not explicitly against the house rules, would definitely be troublesome," she says with mock seriousness. "At least use the viewing room like a civilized person."
I can't help but laugh, the tension breaking. "I'll keep that in mind for future reference."
Morgan sets her designer purse on the counter and pulls something from inside it. "I realized you don't have a phone, do you?" She holds out a sleek black iPhone, still in its packaging.
"No, I don't," I admit, eyeing the device.
"Well, here's your work phone," she says, pressing the box into my hands. "I need to be able to reach you, and you'll need it for grocery orders and other house management tasks."
I turn the box over in my hands, a lump forming in my throat.
"Thank you," I say, genuinely moved by her thoughtfulness. "Really, this means a lot. I've been feeling kind of disconnected from the world."
Morgan waves away my gratitude with a flick of her wrist. "It's nothing. Just a business expense." But her eyes soften slightly, betraying the casualness of her tone. "I've already programmed my number in it."
Morgan steps closer, her perfume enveloping me as she examines my face with surprising tenderness. "You're settling in okay?" she asks, her voice softer than usual. Her hand reaches up to brush a speck from my shoulder. "Don't work too hard, okay? I want you to work for me for years to come."
The gentle concern in her tone catches me off guard. It's been less than twenty-four hours since my entire life imploded, yet here I am, being cared for by someone who barely knows me. The unexpected kindness makes my throat tighten.
"I'm settling in fine," I manage, offering a small smile. "And I like working. Keeps my mind off... things."
Morgan nods, understanding flickering in her green eyes. "Well, don't burn yourself out on your first day." She glances at the sandwich ingredients spread across the counter. "Were you making lunch? I could join you if you don't mind the company."
"I'd like that," I say, surprised by how much I mean it.
—
Morgan and I chat easily as we eat our turkey sandwiches at the island counter. I've added avocado and a hint of Dijon mustard that I found in her impressively stocked refrigerator. She compliments my simple culinary choices with the same enthusiasm she showed for the French toast this morning.
"I have another meeting downtown," she says, glancing at her watch. "But I'll be back for that dinner you promised me."
"I was thinking salmon, if that works for you?" I suggest, already mentally cataloging the ingredients I spotted earlier.
"Perfect." She slides off the barstool with elegant precision. "Don't miss me too much while I'm gone."
I help her into her designer blazer. Her perfume lingers as she heads for the door, turning to give me a little wave.
"Make yourself at home, Adam. Mi casa es su casa."
The silence of the empty house settles around me after Morgan leaves. I wander through the spacious rooms, running my fingers along expensive furniture, still not quite believing this is my new reality. When I reach my bedroom, I pull out the new iPhone Morgan gave me and turn it over in my hands.
I should probably set this up. At least I'll have a way to communicate with the outside world again.
I sit on the edge of the king-sized bed and power on the device. It's the latest model, sleek and pristine. As I follow the setup prompts, I hesitate at the Apple ID screen. I haven't memorized my password, I always saved on my devices. After a few failed attempts, I manage to reset it and gain access to my account.
I sigh as I import my phone contacts off iCloud.
I should probably call my sister.
Sarah has always been my voice of reason, even when I don't want to hear what she has to say. And I should tell her I'm not with Lana anymore.
I scroll through the newly imported contacts until I find her name. My thumb hovers over it for a long moment before I finally press call, my heart pounding in my ears as it rings.
"Adam?" Sarah's voice comes through, sharp with surprise. "Is that you?"
"Hey, sis. Yeah, it's me."
"Oh my god." The relief in her voice is palpable. "Are you okay? Lana called me from your old phone. She said you ran away."
I close my eyes, leaning back against the headboard. "I'm fine. I just... I had to leave."
"What happened?" Sarah asks, her tone shifting to the protective big-sister mode I know so well. "And whose number is this? It's not showing up in my contacts."
"It's a long story," I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "The short version is that Lana and I are done. This is a new phone. I... I got a new job."
"A new job? Adam, you've been gone less than twenty-four hours. What the hell is going on?"
I take a deep breath and tell her everything, well, almost everything. I explain about finding the script, about the shoot with Morgan, about watching Lana with Leo.
There's a long silence on the other end of the line after I finish explaining. I can almost picture Sarah's face, her lips pressed into that thin line that always appears when she's trying to contain her emotions.
"I fucking told you," she finally says, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "I told you dating a pornstar would be toxic, Adam. I warned you from day one!"
"Sarah…"
"No, you need to hear this," she cuts me off. "I've spent six months watching you twist yourself into knots trying to be okay with your girlfriend fucking other men for a living. And now you're telling me you actually filmed a porn scene yourself? Are you out of your goddamn mind?"
I pull the phone away from my ear slightly as her voice rises to a near-shout.
"Do you have any idea what this could do to your future? What if someone recognizes you? What if a potential employer sees it?" Her words come faster now, building momentum. "Jesus Christ, Adam, how could you be so fucking stupid?"
"I didn't know what I was getting into," I say quietly, though it sounds like a weak excuse even to my own ears.
"Of course you didn't! Because you were thinking with your dick instead of your brain! Just like you've been doing since the moment you reconnected with Lana!"
"And now you're telling me you've moved in with another pornstar!" Sarah continues, her voice reaching a fever pitch. "What is wrong with you, Adam? Do you have some kind of addiction to this industry?"
"Sarah, wait," I interrupt, sitting up straighter on the bed. "Morgan isn't a pornstar anymore. She's retired. She's paying me to manage her house and letting me live here for free."
There's a pause, but I can practically hear Sarah's blood pressure rising through the phone.
"Oh, that's so much better!" she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "An EX pornstar is paying you to live with her? Adam, do you hear yourself right now? Do you understand how this sounds?"
"It's not like that," I protest weakly. "It's a legitimate job. House management, cooking, cleaning..."
"House management?" Sarah's laugh is sharp and humorless. "Is that what we're calling it now? Adam, you just escaped one toxic situation with a woman in the sex industry and immediately jumped into another one!"
"Sarah, I'm not sleeping with Morgan," I say firmly, gripping the phone tighter. "This is strictly professional. She needed help with her house, I needed a place to stay. That's it."
There's a long pause on the other end, and when Sarah speaks again, her voice has dropped to that dangerous quiet tone she uses when she's really angry.
"Are you sure about that, Adam?" she asks slowly. "You're absolutely certain there's no sexual tension at all between you and this... house manager employer of yours?"
I open my mouth to respond immediately, but the words stick in my throat. Images flash through my mind unbidden. Morgan feeding me bacon from her fork this morning, her fingers brushing against my chest when she was wearing nothing but a towel, the way she looked at me when she said she needed me.
"I..." I start, then stop. The silence stretches between us.
"That's what I thought," Sarah says, her voice heavy with disappointment. "Jesus Christ, Adam. You can't even convince yourself, let alone me."
"It's not like that," I say weakly, but even to my own ears, it sounds hollow.
"Look, Sarah, I really don't want to be in our parents' basement," I say, my voice coming out more defensive than I intended.
I can picture her pinching the bridge of her nose, that thing she does when I've pushed her to her limit.
"Adam," she finally says, her voice tired. "I get it. I really do. The basement isn't ideal, and Mom and Dad would drive you crazy with their questions. But this... this isn't the answer either."
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the expensive hardwood floors beneath my feet. "It's just temporary, Sarah. Until I figure things out."
"Adam, I need you to listen to me," Sarah says, her voice taking on that serious tone she uses when she's about to deliver hard truths. "I don't support this for you. This whole situation with Morgan, living in her house, working for her... it's a mistake."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I mutter, rolling my eyes even though she can't see me. I've heard this lecture before in various forms. Sarah always thinks she knows what's best for me.
"I'm serious, Adam. You're not thinking clearly right now."
"Look," I interrupt, wanting to change the subject before she really gets going. "Once shit slows down a bit, do you want to pick back up on our Sunday lunches? I know we missed a couple."
There's a pause, and I can hear Sarah's tone soften slightly. "Yeah, how else am I going to hear about your train wreck of a life?"
I laugh despite everything, the sound surprising me. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."
"Someone has to keep tabs on you," she says, and I can hear the smile creeping into her voice. "Make sure you're not completely destroying yourself."
The familiar banter feels good, normal even. It's the first genuinely light moment I've had since yesterday's disaster at the studio.
"So we're good?" I ask, settling back against the headboard.
"We're good," Sarah confirms. "But Adam? I meant what I said. Be careful with this Morgan situation. I have a bad feeling about it."
"I know you do. But I'm a big boy, Sarah. I can handle myself."
"Famous last words," she mutters. "Call me if you need anything, okay? And I mean anything. Even if it's just to talk."
"I will. Love you, sis."
"Love you too, you disaster."