Chapter 143 The Taste of You
I didn't know how I managed to walk out of that flagship store or how I ended up at the theater. My mind kept replaying the blonde's words to Emily over and over.
When we reached the theater, I spotted Ethan sitting on a small leather sofa in the private lounge area, scrolling through his phone. I wanted to smile at him—to act normal—but my facial muscles felt frozen.
Ethan noticed immediately. He stood up, reaching for me and pulling me onto his lap with practiced ease. His arm encircled my waist, fingers splaying possessively across my hip.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low, meant only for me.
"Nothing," I lied, avoiding his penetrating gaze.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "Where's Sarah? How come she's not with you?"
I swallowed hard. "She suddenly had stomach pains. She took a car back."
"What's bothering you?"
I forced a smile. "Just family stuff. Makes me a little sad."
"What happened with your family?"
"My mother passed away. I just found out yesterday scrolling through Instagram."
Without warning, tears welled in my eyes. I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. It was as if every negative emotion I'd suppressed over these months—over these years—suddenly erupted.
Ethan first tried to comfort me, but as my sobs intensified, his body tensed.
"Liv." He gently pushed my face away, wiping my tears. "This isn't about your family, is it? Something else happened."
I shook my head. "No, it's my mom. She died, and I'm sad."
Ethan tilted my face up. "You weren't crying like this last night. Tell me what really happened. Who did you see?"
I blinked away tears, my heart pounding against my ribs. "Ethan," I whispered, gathering courage. "Is there something you're not telling me?" My voice trembled slightly. "If you say there isn't, I'll believe you."
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. When he spoke, his voice had roughened. "Liv, can you give me a year? Just one year."
"What do you mean?"
Ethan's gaze shifted away from mine for a brief moment. "My family has arranged a match for me. We don't like each other. It's just for show."
A hollow laugh escaped me. "For show?"
He turned his head, avoiding my tear-filled eyes. "Yes. We're just pretending for our parents."
I blinked, processing his words. The tears stopped as anger began to rise. "This show you're putting on—do your families know it's fake? Or is it only you two who know it's pretend?"
Ethan remained silent. There was nothing he could say.
"If only you two know it's fake," I continued, "then what does that make me in everyone else's eyes?"
His arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. "Liv, don't overthink this."
I pried his hand away and stood up, facing him directly.
"I'm not overthinking anything. The facts are simple. You have an arranged match. You're engaged—or will be soon. If I stay with you, what does that make me? A mistress? The other woman?"
The movie we'd come to see lasted over two hours. I sat through every minute, eyes fixed on the screen, but I couldn't have told you a single thing about the plot.
When we got into his car afterward, I buckled my seatbelt and said, "Ethan, maybe we should take a break."
He lit a cigarette, studying me. "What did Blake tell you?"
I looked up, irritated by his assumption. "Even if he didn't tell me, I would have found out eventually."
Ethan tapped ash into the ashtray, laughing coldly. "You're very quick to defend him."
The tears I'd been holding back threatened to fall again.
"How can you suspect me of anything with Blake when you're the one getting engaged to someone else?" I demanded.
Ethan's smile grew colder. "Olivia Reed, how can I believe you never loved him when you act like this?"
Something snapped inside me. "I don't need you to believe me! And frankly, he's not worse than you. If I could like you, why couldn't I like him? At least he's younger."
I wasn't being completely irrational. Part of me wanted to fan the flames, to push our relationship to the breaking point. If Ethan was getting engaged, what was I holding onto?
Even if this "engagement" was just for show as he claimed, to the world, they would be genuinely engaged. When I first agreed to be with Ethan, he said he wasn't married and had no girlfriend. Had I known he already had a marriage prospect, I would never have agreed.
When we arrived home, Ethan carried me to the bedroom over his shoulder despite my protests.
"Ethan, put me down!" I struggled against his grip.
He threw me onto the bed and quickly removed his belt, stripping off his pants with practiced efficiency.
Seeing his intentions, I scrambled to escape, but he caught me before my feet hit the floor. With one swift movement, he pulled me back and pinned me down, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that was more punishment than passion.
I kicked and pushed against his chest, my free hand alternating between hitting and pinching while I kept my injured arm protected. Ethan simply flipped me onto my stomach, forcing me into a kneeling position. His hands gripped my thighs with bruising force as he took me with a savagery that made me cry out.
I tried to crawl away, but his response was even more forceful, driving into me so deeply I felt impaled. The pain mixed with unwanted pleasure, confusing my body's responses.
It was dark by the time he finished. He carried my limp body to the bathroom, suddenly gentle as he washed me, even kneeling to kiss between my legs as if in apology.
After the bath, he tucked me into bed. His phone rang, and he glanced at it before declining.
"I have business to attend to," he said flatly. "I won't be back tonight."
I curled into a ball beneath the covers. "I hate you, Ethan," I whispered fiercely.
He buttoned his cuffs, laughing coldly. "As if you ever loved me. Haven't you always hated me?"
My lips trembled, tears rolling down my cheeks. "When I loved you, did you care? You never wanted my love, Ethan. You only wanted my complete submission. You want control, not love. You want people to worship you!"
Ethan's expression remained impassive. "You're right. Think of me that way."
With that, he walked out.
I buried my face in the pillow and sobbed. Every day with Ethan felt like walking on thin ice, and I knew the recent car accident was his enemies targeting me. I couldn't leave him yet staying was torture.
One more semester, I decided. I would endure one more semester, then find a way out. I wasn't one to wallow in self-pity—life had given me too many hardships for that. I wanted to live on my own terms.
Wiping the tears from my face, I sat up and reached for my phone to call Ethan.