CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: ETHAN 'S POV

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: ETHAN 'S POV


The city's lights poured through the transparent curtains like ghosts. My bedroom was meant to be a haven, but tonight it was a golden cage with satin sheets and clamlike walls that listened too desperately.

I sat on the edge of my bed, forward, elbows on knees, phone in hand. Liam's message blazed at me from the screen.

It'd been a week. A whole week and I hadn't replied yet.

I couldn't. Not out of lack of wanting to. God, I wanted to. But I had no clue what to say.

Every word felt like a betrayal to someone.
To him, to myself, to the life I'd been pushed into like an actor placed on stage before learning the lines. The lights were bright, the audience was quiet, and I had no lines.

The planning for the wedding was careening out of control like a runaway train. Tuxedo fittings. Cake tastings. Revisions to the guest list. Diana had taken over every detail like she was planning a royal coronation instead of a wedding.

And she was calling the shots. And I hated it, but I had no choice.

Diana had pinned me so precisely I couldn't tell when the illusion of choice was gone. I used to think I had time, time to get it sorted out, to make sense of all of this. But time was a luxury, and Diana did not deal in luxuries.

She dealt in ultimatums, in veiled threats wrapped in smiles, in checkmate moves disguised as flirting. She applied control like a scalpel, precise, silent, agony-free.

My hold on the phone tightened. I read Liam's text message again, my vision blurred. My chest felt like a ton, as if my ribs were a collapsing roof. My lungs were blocks and my throat was sand.

How in the God's name did I get here? And how could I not go?
The door creaked open behind me.

No knock. No warning.

I glared up, about to yell who the hell did it occur to someone to just walk in… and stopped.

Diana stood there, her back bathed in the light from the hallway, wearing nothing but wine-red lingerie and a face that informed me she was here for something bad.

"Wow," she breathed, eyes scanning me like she was amused by what she saw. "You look like you've seen a ghost, honey."

I did not respond.

"What do you want?" I asked, in a low voice.

She came in and shut the door behind her. "It's showtime, baby. And I wanted a little fun with my man first."

She moved closer, hips moving like a snake through silk. I rose, my heart thumping with embarrassment and not lust.

"I am not in the mood, Diana," I answered.

Her hand swept across my chest. "You never are. But your body doesn't agree."
She leaned in, lips brushing the corner of my mouth. I turned away from her, jaw locked.

"Stop."

She laughed, and a cold kind of teasing tone was in her voice. "Oh, Ethan, come on. We're getting married. You don't think you will get married and stay grumpy, do you?"

Her hand wandered down. I caught her wrist, but she twirled it free, lithe and self-assured, fingers gliding over my waistband.

"You're so tight," she whispered. "Let me relieve you."

"No."

She knelt down.

Before I could fight back, she had her lips on me and my body outwitted my brain before my mind could struggle back into dominance. My body didn't recognize the difference between giving in and giving permission, and I did not want this, but shame wrapped around me like a wildfire and consumed my decency. My knuckles folded under into fists beside me, and I glared at the ceiling, trying to disappear, to not scream.

When she stood, pleased and smug, her eyes glinted with triumph. "See? You're not completely useless. There's still some action left in you."

She pushed me back onto the bed and rode me like a conqueror planting her flag.

I didn't stop her. I should've but the storm raging within me had silenced the sirens.

Slipping past, mouth on my neck, her name in my ear, I never saw her.

I saw Liam.

The way his fingers would tremble on the night that we kissed over the hosptal bed as we reaffirmed our love to each other. The comfort of his smile when he laughed at my horrible jokes. The softness of his tone as he said my name like it was important to him.

Diana wasn't even present any longer.

In my mind, I was at his side, chest to chest, breath to breath.

And then I said it.

So softly I didn't even mean to…

"Liam."

She froze. Silence broke the room like thunder.

She pushed away from me as if I'd burned her, eyes wide with anger and astonishment.

"What did you just say?" she spat.

I sat up, pounding chest. "Diana."

"Liam? You were thinking about him when you were inside me? Are you joking?"

She was pacing now, fists tangled in her hair, disgust radiating off of her like heat from a wildfire.

"Am I not enough?" she spat, voice cold and splintering. "Is this…" she pointed at her body, a trembling, angry line from shoulder to hip, "not enough for you? You have the audacity to think of another man when I'm in your bed?"

"I didn't mean…"

"Save it," she snarled, venom chilling every syllable as she marched towards the door. "You irritate me."

And then she was gone, slamming the door so loudly the walls vibrated and the windowpanes rattled in their frames.

I sat there, by myself, dripping with sweat and humiliation. My body still vibrated with the raw memory of her touch, but my soul hurt hollowed out, scraped clean, used. Reduced to bone and nerve.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, a jarring hum against silence.

I took it in shaking fingers, the screen glowing like embers in darkness.

A new message. Unknown Number:

"Get your head in the game, Ethan. Or I'll destroy what's left of you."

I stood there, breath stuck in my lungs, thudding heart like fists against a stubborn door.

My world was shattering walls closing in tightly, choking, merciless.

And I didn't know if I'd survive the meltdown.

Who the fuck was this one, Diana?

Or was there someone else out here, playing a whole lot trickier game?