"CARLOS!!!"
The name was a raw scream, torn from the depths of Ashlyn's soul. It shattered the illicit, heated silence of the garden alcove, a sound of agony and betrayal.
Hearing his name, shouted with such raw violence, was like a bucket of ice water thrown over Carlos and Lina. They sprang apart as if electrocuted, their lust-fueled haze evaporating in an instant. Lina, her face a mask of terror, fumbled with the skirt of her maid's uniform, pulling it down with trembling hands. Carlos, his face pale with shock, hastily pulled up his trousers, his movements clumsy and panicked.
Ashlyn stood at the entrance to the alcove, her body trembling, her eyes wide with a pain so profound it seemed to have stolen her breath. She stared at them, at the rumpled clothes, the flushed skin, the undeniable evidence of their sordid encounter. "How could this be?" she whispered, the question a fragile, broken thing.
