Chapter 22 The Darling Strategy
I leaned into Ethan's embrace, making myself small against his chest. With downcast eyes, I sighed inwardly.
"Did you enjoy your musical exchange with Daniel?" Ethan asked, his tone deceptively light.
"I was just appreciating his playing," I said carefully, each word measured. "He's very talented."
Ethan merely hummed in response, his hand finding the small of my back as he guided me through the club's corridors. The ride back to Oakwood Estate passed in complete silence. Ethan stared straight ahead, jaw tense, while I gazed out the window at the passing lights of Los Angeles.
This two-year agreement feels like a prolonged deal with the devil, I thought, watching shadows dance across the car's interior.
When we arrived, Ethan maintained his silence all the way up to the master bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind us, I heard the distinct click of the lock. Before I could react, his hands were on my shoulders, pushing me toward the bed. His kiss was fierce and angry, teeth grazing my bottom lip as his hands gripped my waist hard enough to bruise.
I pushed against his shoulders, fighting back. "Get off me!" I twisted away, slapping at his chest and arms. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
Ethan pulled back, his eyes bloodshot with rage. His thumb roughly traced my swollen lip. "You were smiling so happily in that music room," he said, voice ice-cold. "Smile for me like that."
"You're a complete control freak!" I spat, pushing harder against his chest. "I was just listening to him play piano!"
He caught my wrists in one hand, the other gripping my chin. "You're mine, Olivia. Mine," he hissed. "That smile, that softness—it's only for me. Do you understand?"
I turned my face away, refusing to look at him. He's insane. Completely insane.
Ethan forcibly turned my face toward him. "Look at me, Olivia. Look at me!"
He kissed me again, deeper this time. I closed my eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my gaze.
"Is being with me so unbearable?" he asked, his voice suddenly rough with emotion.
I kept my eyes shut, lips pressed tightly together.
Ethan's fingers dug into my cheeks. "Open your eyes when I'm talking to you!"
I remained silent, eyes firmly closed.
His fingers suddenly pushed between my thighs, making me gasp involuntarily. My eyes flew open, tears springing to their corners.
Ethan carried me to the bathroom, and what followed was over an hour of his particular brand of possession—half punishment, half desperate need. Later, he carried me back to the bedroom, setting me on the sofa.
My legs gave out immediately, and I sank to my knees on the plush carpet.
Ethan quickly moved behind me, arms encircling my waist to prevent me from falling further. When I tried to turn and push him away, he captured my wrists again, pressing me into the sofa for another hour of claiming what he considered his.
Afterward, he knelt before me, gently applying ointment to the marks he'd left, his touch suddenly feather-light as he blew cool air against my skin.
I slept until afternoon the next day, exhausted in every possible way. When I finally opened my eyes, Ethan was sitting on the edge of the bed, a tray of breakfast food balanced on his lap.
We acted as if nothing had happened. He didn't mention the previous night, and neither did I. After lunch, he joined me for a nap.
I tensed when he slid under the covers, terrified he would want more.
"Just sleep," he murmured, pulling me against his chest. "Just sleep, nothing else."
When I woke again, he was gone. A note on the nightstand explained he had a business dinner and would be back late. I was to eat without him.
Despite sleeping most of the day, I still felt drained. Every muscle ached from Ethan's attentions, my body a catalog of soreness. I managed to shower and make my way downstairs, where Walter had prepared a light dinner. I spent the evening watching an old movie in the media room, curled up on the enormous sectional.
Halfway through the film, the door opened. Ethan stood there in his tailored suit, smelling of cigars and whiskey. He crossed to the sofa and bent down, inhaling against my neck.
"You smell better than the cologne in that conference room," he murmured.
I wrinkled my nose and pushed at his chest. "You reek of smoke and alcohol. Go shower first."
To my surprise, he complied without argument.
When he returned, his behavior was gentler than the previous night, almost solicitous. But his hands still roamed, his mouth still claimed, and by the time we fell asleep, I was once again completely drained.
Morning brought blinding pain. I woke to violent cramps tearing through my abdomen, unable to even sit up. Ethan noticed immediately, his face changing as he took in my pallor.
"What's wrong?" he demanded, already reaching for his phone. "Is it your stomach?"
"My period," I managed through gritted teeth. "It just started."
He canceled his meetings and called his doctor. Within an hour, Dr. Helen Fuller arrived, her medical bag in hand, expression professional as she approached my curled-up form.
After a brief examination, she asked me several questions about my symptoms, then looked between us with clinical detachment.
"Have you two been sexually active in the last 24 hours?" she asked directly.
I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment, but Ethan simply nodded.
"Multiple times," he admitted without hesitation.
Dr. Fuller's expression shifted to undisguised disapproval as she turned to face Ethan fully.
"You need to learn restraint, Mr. Bennett," she said sharply. "Given your size difference, you must be more gentle. During her period and the days surrounding it, you should abstain entirely. Otherwise, you'll end up putting her in the hospital."
Ethan's jaw tightened, but he nodded.
After Dr. Fuller left, he brought me water and medication. "Take these after you eat," he instructed.
I stared at the pills with wide eyes, shaking my head. "I don't want to take medication."
When he remained unmoved, I tried a different approach. I slowly shifted to sit on his lap, looping my arms around his neck.
"Darling," I said softly, the endearment foreign on my tongue. "Do I really have to take those bitter pills?"
My fingers toyed with his tie as I gazed up at him, letting vulnerability show in a way I never had before.
Ethan froze, his breathing changing. His eyes darkened as they fixed on my face, studying this new version of me.
"Liv," he warned, voice dropping to a rasp. "Don't test my self-control right now."