Chapter 112 Ten Years Older Is Perfect
"She doesn't want to." Ethan's voice was ice cold, cutting through the warm afternoon air.
I stood frozen between them—the classmate with his friendly invitation still hanging in the air, and Ethan, whose darkening expression made my stomach clench. This wasn't an invitation to a birthday party; it felt more like an invitation to walk through death's door.
The car door swung open. Ethan stepped out, his face a thundercloud as he strode toward me. Without warning, he pulled me against his side, his arm an iron band around my waist.
"She doesn't like attending birthday parties of strangers," he said, voice dropping to a dangerous octave.
Before I could respond, Ethan guided me—no, pushed me—toward the Maybach. He opened the passenger door and practically shoved me inside, his movements efficient and controlled, but radiating anger.
I barely had time to buckle my seatbelt before he slid into the driver's seat and peeled away from the curb, tires squealing in protest. My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared straight ahead, afraid to look at him.
Traffic slowed us to a stop. In the suffocating silence, I glanced at Ethan's profile—his strong jawline and perfect angles now tense and hard. The sunset light made his face look even more striking.
I carefully reached toward his cheek. When my fingers touched him, his facial muscles instantly tightened under my touch.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Sit properly," he commanded, his voice devoid of warmth.
Hurt, I withdrew my hand and turned to stare out the window, swallowing the lump in my throat. Always this way. Sweet and teasing on the phone, then cold and angry in person.
"You're always like this," I muttered, "getting angry over nothing."
Ethan's laugh was sharp and humorless. "Olivia, are you really turning this around on me?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" I turned to face him, indignation momentarily overriding my fear.
The light turned green. Ethan accelerated, merging smoothly with the flow of traffic.
"Exactly what I said," he replied flatly.
I could tell he was genuinely angry, not just his usual controlling self. Even though I knew he was being unreasonable, I found myself explaining anyway.
"That guy was from my year, same major but different class. We're barely acquaintances—we just nod if we see each other on campus." I took a breath, watching his reaction. "He only called out to me because my Labubu fell off my bag. He was behind me and picked it up."
"Picked up your keychain and invited you to his birthday party," Ethan said coolly. "His twentieth birthday." He emphasized the age, practically spitting the words through clenched teeth, before adding, "So young, isn't he?"
I stared at him for a moment before a laugh escaped me. "Are you actually jealous of his age?"
The moment the words left my mouth, I saw Ethan's already tense jaw tighten further, the angle of it sharp enough to cut glass.
His dark eyebrows arched dangerously as he turned to me, eyes cold and hard. "What nonsense are you talking? Jealous? Do you think the word 'jealousy' exists in my dictionary?"
In one swift motion, he removed his hand from the steering wheel and gripped the back of my neck, pushing my face against his shoulder. "Take a good look at your man's face."
I nodded against him, trying to diffuse the tension. "Yes, yes. You're very handsome. My man is very handsome."
The words "my man" made my cheeks burn, the heat spreading to my neck and ears.
Ethan's grip relaxed, satisfaction curving his lips into a smirk as he released me and ruffled my hair. "That ordinary-looking boy doesn't compare to me. He's not even as good-looking as Blake. Why would I be jealous?"
I shook my head quickly. "You wouldn't."
Ethan's smug smile widened. "Exactly. So why would I feel inferior?"
"You're the one who sounded bitter about him being twenty," I pointed out.
Ethan's smile vanished.
Immediately regretting my words, I hurried to add, "But I prefer mature men. Ten years older is perfect."
His hands tightened on the steering wheel, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly. When we stopped at another red light, he turned to me, his gaze deep and intense. "Say that again."
I looked away, refusing to repeat myself.
"Come on," he coaxed, stroking my hair. "Say it and I'll forgive you."
"I don't need your forgiveness," I snapped, turning to face him. "I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't even accept his invitation, but so what if I had?"
Ethan's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
"You're always telling me to follow you, to stay with you forever. But this suffocating control—who would want to stay with you forever like this?" My voice trembled with frustration.
Ethan's laugh was cold and bitter, his lips curling upward in a mockery of amusement.
Though terrified, I pressed on. "I'm a human being, not your plaything. Real people have social lives. If a classmate invites me to a birthday party, whether I go or not should be my decision, not yours. I'll go if I want to, and I won't if I don't."
Ethan pulled into a plaza and parked, unclipping his seatbelt and turning fully toward me. His hand shot out, gripping my chin with bruising force.
"Not my decision? You'll go if you want to?" His voice was deadly quiet, frost lacing each syllable. "Where did you find the courage to speak to me like this?"
I knocked his hand away. "If you're just keeping me as some caged bird, then stop saying you want me to love you, to stay with you forever. It makes me sick!"
Ethan's breathing grew heavy, his fingers tightening on my chin until tears sprang to my eyes. But I refused to make a sound.
Without warning, he leaned forward and bit my lip, hard. I tasted blood before he sucked it away, his tongue pushing the metallic taste back into my mouth.
I shoved him off, wiping the blood from my lip with the back of my hand, gasping for air.
Ethan lit a cigarette, clenching it between his teeth as he spoke. "I don't want to argue with you. Be good and stop provoking me."
"Am I the one who wants to argue?" I demanded. "You're the one who's acting crazy—"
"Olivia!" His voice cut like a blade. "Be quiet. That's enough."
I felt that familiar wave of helplessness wash over me. Why was he like this? I'd explained everything patiently, but he wouldn't listen. He'd fixated on the age comment and wouldn't let it go.
What did he want from me? To be locked in a cage, completely isolated and dependent on him? For what purpose?
My eyes filled with tears as I looked at him, my voice breaking. "Ethan, what do you want? What are you really after?"
He exhaled a stream of smoke, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a half-smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What do I want? Don't you know by now?"