Three men accused of murdering journalist were warned at least three weeks ahead of time that one of them was to be arrested in connection with the assassination.

Three men. Three weeks. Three.

That's how many times Jesus prayed before he was arrested. That's how many times Peter denied Jesus before the rooster crowed that morning.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Jona growled from his armchair.

The paper fluttered between Lora's fingers. She had been staring at the same line of the same article for five minutes straight. She looked in her husband's direction and scowled at the smug expression on his face.

"It's time to get back up in bed. It's been thirty minutes since you went down."

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at her menacingly. "Twenty-eight. You're just as corrupt as your bloody government."

Lora slapped the newspaper onto the bedside cabinet before standing up and pushing his armchair close to the bed.

"I'm not in the mood, Jonathan," she replied locking his knees between hers.

"I know," he muttered as he threw his arms around her shoulders and focused his strength on his lower limbs. "You've snapped at me three times already."

Lora pursed her lips and heaved, pivoting Jonathan from the armchair to the bed. This was getting easier, which meant he was losing weight. She helped him lay back on the mattress and covered his legs with the blanket.

Three times.

He was right. That was how many times she shut him down. It was also how many times she collapsed under Owen's touch the night before. Her ears burned at the memory of the cold tiles against her back. Her cheeks grew hot at the thought of their bodies moving together. She had gone from frigid to insatiable in three seconds.

"Are you okay?" Jonathan demanded, drawing her attention back to him. "Don't take this bullshit to heart. They'll catch whoever it was and if government officials really were involved they'll chuck them out."

"No government officials were involved, Jonathan. Stop being ridiculous! And I'm not worried. I'm tired, that's all."

"Tired?" he questioned cocking an eyebrow at her. "Is that why you're wearing makeup today?"

Lora's hands flew up to her cheeks as though he told her they were smeared with blood.

"Leave it. You look nice. Come here," he ordered. She obeyed. He reached for a lock of her brown hair and twisted it between his fingers. "Your hair is getting longer. I like it."

Despite his compliments, Lora felt uncomfortable. She rarely wore her hair down. She thought it impractical and unnecessary. But this morning she felt bold. She felt different and curious. She blow-dried her hair. She put on bronzer and mascara and lip gloss. But now that her husband noticed it, she feared she'd been reckless.

As soon as Jonathan let go of her hair she tied it back, worried that Owen's fingerprints, his scent might still be on it. She could certainly still feel him all over her. He was in the gleam of her eyes and the shine of her skin.

'Open your eyes, Lora,' Owen whispered in her ear last night as they stood in front of the tall, framed mirror. 'See how beautiful you are.'

Her eyes drifted over her reflection. Her face, her tinged cheeks, her plump lips, mouth slightly open, eyes hooded with desire. She didn't recognise the woman staring back at her. She was magnificent. She was poised and vulnerable and formidable all at the same time. Her milky legs shifted beneath her flowery, red dress, not because she was restless or awkward but because she knew what to do with her body to make it look attractive.

She felt Owen's sharp intake of breath and she didn't blame him. The woman in the mirror was breathtaking, like a divine muse in a painting. She looked nothing like her, she thought as she watched Owen's hand slither around the woman's waist, over her hips, down her thighs and under her dress. She almost tasted the jealousy brewing in her stomach, but then his fingers brushed against her and she couldn't focus on anything else. 

There was no envy. No question. Just wonder and beauty as she watched her dress ripple along with the movement of his hand underneath it. She saw how the woman in the mirror cocked her head to the side, providing Owen's mouth with the access it longed for. Owen's green eyes met hers. He caught her staring and his dimpled, lopsided smile appeared.

'Don't look at me, Lora.' He lifted his free hand to her chin and angled her face gently until she faced herself. 'Look at you!' 

Two fingers slipped inside her and the woman gasped. But she did not look away. The two women watched each other as their breathing became shallower, their eyes became wider. Lora watched the woman arch her back against the man she feared and yet trusted most and the man held her tightly, supporting her weight as her knees trembled. His fingers moved faster as he observed her. He kissed her neck and shoulders soothingly.

He adored her, she could tell. And the woman was revelling shamelessly in the delight he caused her, wanting more. She could see it in the way she bit her lower lip, in the way she lifted her arm around his neck, the way she writhed under his touch.

But what Lora was seeing and what she was feeling were two different things entirely. Unlike the cool woman in front of her, Lora was smouldering inside. She was ablaze with madness, with the fear of what would happen if she succumbed to the wicked goodness consuming her.

She held her gaze for as long as she could, captivated and pleading, but the fire eventually overpowered her. The woman's eyes rolled back just as a glorious explosion engulfed her. She heard the woman sing a hymn that could not possibly have come from her, even if she felt the sound emerge from her throat.

'You're perfect, Lora.' Owen murmured against her skin. 'You're magnificent.'

And when she opened her eyes, she saw that the woman looked just as she felt. In her smile, she saw blind belief, confidence, not a hint of doubt. In Owen's arms, Lora felt perfect, magnificent. She was alive. Confident. Fierce. So, she turned and kissed him, wanting more. And that is exactly what she got.

"I'm sorry about yesterday."

Lora's eyes snapped open. She shook her head, bringing herself back to Room 7. It took a while for her to register her husband's words.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Jonathan went on. "But I'm your husband. I have needs. I know you do too and I think we've ignored this long enough. I know I carry some of the blame here, but enough is enough."

Lora blinked rapidly and swallowed the bile that rose to her mouth. Lora and Jonathan had overlooked these needs since they found out they were pregnant with Siena. But now it seemed like it was all he wanted to talk about. As if it would magically fix their problems.

"I'm not asking for anything, Lor, but you know I'm right. I know it's been on your mind too."

When she was younger, her mother used to tell her to control her thoughts.

Men can smell your emotions and your growing body will betray you.

The unease grew in her stomach. Could Jonathan smell her thoughts? Could he sense her newfound desires?

"And you heard the kid doctor. I'm going to rehab. I'll be out of there walking, Lor! You may not want anything to do with me now. I mean, of course, you don't. But in a couple of weeks..."

She put her hand to her mouth, fearing she was going to vomit. The concentrated panic began to swell inside of her, diffusing rapidly across her whole body. Her mind backtracked to a time before the accident, a time when Jonathan was strong and healthy and attractive to any pair of eyes. Even then, he never came close to making her feel the things Owen made her feel. There was never any sense of need or passion. It was always an act of duty, of validation. She remembered her wedding night. She remembered how the walls closed in on her in the bathroom while he waited for her in the bedroom. Their bedroom.

He's your husband. You're a big girl now. You're a married woman.

"I will get out of this bed, God damn it! I will get out of this bed if it's the last thing I do," Jonathan muttered, pounding his fist on the bedrails to show his determination.

He's your husband. You're a big girl now. You're a married woman.

The shame caught up with her, slamming her like a tidal wave, as she realised what she'd done. She mistook vanity for beauty, self-glory for happiness and in chasing what wasn't hers, she loathed that which was.

The walls glared at her, screaming, closing in on her again. The room began to spin making her stomach queasy and her head dizzy.

"I'm going to the chapel," she declared quickly and without waiting for an answer, she ran out of the room and headed straight for the doctor's office.

"What were we thinking?" she blurted out, bursting through the door without knocking.

All the rush in Lora's head dropped to her feet as her eyes settled on the scene in front of her. Owen was sitting back in his office chair, eyes shining, a lazy smile on his face and Cara, who was sitting on the desk right in front of him, was laughing melodiously, throwing her hair back over her shoulder. Her feet were dangling playfully. She barely had to swing them three inches forward to make contact with Owen's knees.

The heat rose to Lora's cheeks as they both turned towards her. "I'm sorry. I should've knocked," she stuttered looking away quickly.

Owen stood up instantly and one second later, Cara hopped off the desk.

"It's okay, Mrs. Scicluna. What do you need?"

His formal tone was a punch to the stomach.

"No, it's fine. I'll come back later."

She was already halfway out the door when Cara reached her. "Nonsense, Lora. Go in! I was just leaving. Unless you need me here?"

Lora turned around but she couldn't look her friend in the eye. Her heart hammered and she could feel the sweat forming on her palms. Cara squeezed her shoulders gently, brows furrowing in concern. "Hey! Are you alright?"

Lora nodded. "I just wanted to ask Dr Shaw about Jonathan's transfer."

"Oh," Cara smiled. Her teeth were perfect. White and straight as a line. "I'll leave you to it, then. It will be fine, don't worry. That man right there knows what he's doing."

She flashed him another flirty smile and left closing the door behind her.

Owen looked at Lora warily. Suddenly, she felt self-conscious. She fretted with her hair, tucking away the strands that had come loose. She pulled on her blouse and fitted her hands in her front pockets. Owen waited for her to speak.

"What was that?" she asked.

She regretted it immediately. She knew her emotions were all over the place. She had too many thoughts and too many feelings struggling to get out of her. She wished she could concentrate on them and express them strategically but instead, she was petty. She felt like a raging teenager, not a grown woman in control of her life.

Owen's eyes narrowed, surprised by her question. "What was what? Cara?"

Lora's gaze stayed on the ground. She wanted to disintegrate into thin air. She felt like a fool. Had she just upturned her life for a man who was already flirting with her best friend?

That shouldn't upset you, a nasty little voice reminded her. He is not yours. He is not your husband.

Owen walked up to her and lifted her face to his, but she jerked away and took a step back, her brown, doe eyes refusing to meet his. 

"Hey," he called out, his voice woven with worry. "What's wrong?"

Lora felt her lips trembling and she immediately put a hand to her mouth to hide it. What was wrong with her?

"It's... Um... It's okay if you like her," she tried after a long pause. "I mean, you obviously have every right to. I just... I don't want to hurt her. So, if you're after her then just let me know because I don't want to stand in the way of that."

An uncomfortable silence followed until Owen gave in to a sarcastic smile, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"What?" he asked finally.

Instead of feeling relieved, Lora felt angry. He was looking at her like she was crazy. "It's just... You didn't look too happy when I walked in. Obviously, I didn't know she'd be in here. I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"Interrupt what?" he cut in surprisingly calm. "We were just talking."

"And you called me Mrs Scicluna! Since when did we go back to that?"

"Lora, you burst through the door looking like you were about to say something you would have regretted saying in front of her. Maybe I'm wrong. I didn't think you wanted anyone to know about us yet."

"I don't!" she replied quickly, and then realising what he said, she finally met his eyes. Her voice was softer when she next spoke. "What do you mean us? Owen, there can't be an us, okay? Us isn't a thing. This is... nothing."

Owen looked at her intensely for a long time before he walked back to his desk and leaned against it. His eyes shone brightly when he fixed them on her again. "I wouldn't call yesterday nothing, but if you want to put it that way... I'm guessing this is what you wanted to talk about?"

Lora's anger bled out as she faced him, or rather, her feelings for him. Feelings she needed to bury somewhere deep and dark. "This isn't right, Owen. What we're doing is wrong."

"You've said that before," he replied matter-of-factly.

She sighed patiently. Convincing him would not be easy.

"So, what are you suggesting?" he went on, the hard lines of his jaw steady, eyes doubtful. "That we ignore this and pretend nothing ever happened?"

Hearing the words out loud made something inside her crack and it must have shown on her face because Owen sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose like he always did when he needed to focus. "Look, we already tried staying away from each other and I hated it. I thought you did too. And that was before... before everything! I don't know what this is, but it isn't nothing."

Lora tried to stop the moisture from reaching her eyes. She needed to be strong now more than ever. But she could feel the panic stir within her again.

"Owen, I have never, ever, done anything like this. I'm confused and lost and I don't want to stay away from you either. I don't think I can. But I also don't know how we're going to do this. I'm just a boring, catholic wife! I'm not someone who flips her hair and dazzles men with her smile and has three orgasms, three inches away from the front door with a man who is not her husband!"

Owen's eyes widened at her choice of words. He had never heard her speak that way. Between that and the high of her admitting that she couldn't end whatever it was that they started either, he felt ten times lighter.

"Wait! So, you're complaining because I made you come three times? How many times do you usually come when you have sex?"

Lora frowned at him, not appreciating his sarcasm. "You know very well what I mean, Owen."

"No, I don't. Please, explain," he countered keeping his voice steady. He saw the hesitation. He felt the dent in her argument and it was all he could do to keep a straight face. Hell, it was all he could do to keep his hands off her.

But Lora refused to be thrown off her guard. She moved closer in hope of making him understand.

"God created sex as a sacred and holy act. What we did yesterday was the exact opposite of that. It was vain and shallow and... What?" she added seeing the wide grin that spread on his lips.

"So, now we're bringing God into this?" he smirked.

"It's bad enough that we're having an affair. Do you have to be disrespectful?"

This got to him. His smile was wiped clean of his face. "Disrespectful? Do you think I'm being disrespectful to you?"

"I think we're being disrespectful to the Lord!"

"What? Let me guess, you think He'll be okay with all this if we just stick to missionary."

Lora blushed instantly at the atrocious jest. "This isn't funny!"

Owen stood up and put his hand on her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I am just trying to understand your reasoning and frankly, it's not making any sense."

"Adultery is sin. Covetousness is sin. Wasting your seed is sin. And we're doing all three!"

Owen's face contorted at the word seed, but he bounced back instantly. "Well, would you rather I finished inside you? The first one will take a bit longer to rectify. Divorce is complicated. And I'm not really sure what that second one means."

Lora glared at him, clenching her fists instead of screaming in frustration. "You shouldn't be making jokes! This is serious!"

"Look, I don't know what you're trying to say, Lora, but if you want me to be completely honest with you, you're only making me hard right now."

"What? How?"

"Well, aside from you pouting your lips like that and the fact that you're less than a foot away from me in an otherwise empty office, all I can think about is proving you wrong by showing you how many ways I have of making you scream with pleasure and asking you if you still think it's sinful."

Lora's mouth fell open and she blushed profusely. White heat flared across her body and she had to press her lips and her thighs together to stop herself from doing something incredibly stupid. She saw Owen's eyes darken with hunger and before he could close the distance between them, she turned around and ran out of his office.