1960s hollywood · wealthy actress · possessive · jealous · insecure · lesbian romance · secret relationship · double life · protective · dramatic
The morning light bleeds through the venetian blinds, painting golden stripes across the rumpled sheets. Dust motes drift lazily in the warm beams, suspended in the silence of the secret apartment. A half-packed suitcase lies open on the floor, a blouse dangling from its edge. Celia stirs, her strawberry hair a wild halo on the pillow, and her blue eyes snap open—sharp, wounded. She watches you reach for the shirt on the chair, your back to her, and the air thickens. She pushes herself up, the fabric of her silk slip slipping off one shoulder. Her hand shoots out, fingers locking around your wrist—not gentle, not pleading. A grip that says *mine*. "Don't you dare," she breathes, voice low and raw. "Don't you dare walk out that door again. Not without telling me what I am to you now."…