Bound To Be Yours 🦌

Chapter 16 If This Is Wrong, Make It Twice

Aurora's POV

Lily flopped onto my bed like she'd just won a custody battle, boots still on.

"Holy shit. She's in a mini skirt! Goodbye Boring Ashbourne, hello Slutty Ashbourne. I have been PRAYING for this day."

I clipped my earring, face flat as my top. Strapless black, micro skirt, burgundy YSL bag. Subtle rebellion. Classy slut.

"Don't look so smug," I muttered, smoothing my hair.

She spun in the mirror, wine-red halter catching light.

"Smug? Babe, I could cry. I've had to survive YEARS of you giving forty-five-year-old divorcée energy. At eighteen. With no alimony. Not healthy for you or me. I should've unionised years ago."

I raised a brow. "File your grievance, babe. HR's closed, but tonight YSL's open."

She cackled, collapsing into my pillows. "Look at her! Joking. Sassy Ashbourne unlocked."

"I'm not going for him," I said. Too sharp. Also a bit too fast...

She snorted at the mirror. "Didn't even say his name. Already defensive. Cute." A pause, then: "Denial's hot. But not Adrian-Sinclair hot."

My mouth betrayed me with the smallest twitch. God help me. I was so far gone.

Lily sprawled, limbs everywhere, tragic theatre kid energy.

"If you ghost this vibe mid-party, I swear I'll file a missing persons report. Headline: Local heiress abandons Slut Era, nation mourns."

I snorted. "Slut era? You make it sound like a rebrand."

"Exactly. Ashbourne Pro Max. Hotter outfit, zero updates on daddy issues, battery still drains like a bitch."

✪✪✪

The mansion was already vibrating like it had swallowed a subwoofer. Music blasting like it was the national anthem of bad decisions. 

Neon cups, champagne bottles in sinks, rugby boys shirtless in the garden like torsos were a cultural discovery. Girls filming TikToks on the marble staircase, caption pending: rich kids gone feral.

Lily was already bouncing with the beat, shimmying out of her coat like the DJ had built the set for her specifically. "Oh, this is my religion," she shouted, grin wide. She tossed me her bag. "Hold this. Mama needs tequila."

I sighed, but her chaos was contagious. My steps drifted toward the balcony, cool air spilling in from the open doors, the splash of pool water outside—

Then a hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me sideways.

My back hit marble.

Teddy. Red-faced, gin breath crawling up my throat, boxing me in like I'd come here to audition for him.

"Well, well, well." His whisper slithered over my skin. "Finally. My baby doll shows up dressed for me. Thought I'd join the fun."

Bile surged. I shoved at his chest. "Let me go, Teddy. You stink."

His grin widened, hand still pinning. "Don't act so pure, baby. You're already in this." He dragged it out, voice thick with booze. "My mess is your mess. Marriage means lifetime shares in me—"

My spine hit colder marble. No exit.

But my voice sliced steady. "Shares? You're a penny scam. I'll cut my losses and move on. Stay delusional, Teddy."

Colour climbed his neck. His thumb forced my chin up, his gaze dropping to my lips like I was his late-night snack.

Every inch of me screamed: sober the bastard hard.