CHAPTER EIGHT – OBVIOUS ANIMOSITY

Exhaustion, fueled by the generous amount of wine, finally dragged Kayla to bed. She changed into a simple nightgown, the soft fabric a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within her. Sleep, however, refused to come. Every time she closed her eyes, images of Lana unpacking, Lance's dismissive words, and the glittering city lights mocking her predicament, flickered behind her eyelids. The sound of the bedroom door creaking open jolted her upright. In the dim moonlight, she saw Lance's silhouette enter the room. Without a word, he shed his clothes and slid into the bed on the other side. Kayla, her voice barely a whisper, spoke up. "Lance?" He grunted in response, his back still towards her. She gathered her courage and tapped him on the shoulder. "Lance," she repeated, her voice trembling slightly. "Is Lana… is she my replacement?" A long silence followed her question. Finally, Lance spoke, his voice laced with a dangerous edge, "Do you find her… appealing?" Kayla bristled. Tha