Chapter 70 Who Are You to Talk About Love?
"No, I wasn't going to bring him here," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan's fingers gripped my face, forcing me to look up at him, his jaw clenched tight.
"Then why were you getting into his car? Where were you planning to go with him? To a hotel? To his place to warm his bed?"
I couldn't answer—couldn't speak with his fingers digging into my cheeks.
"I asked you a question," he growled. "Where were you planning to go? Answer me."
"Ethan, just kill me and get it over with," I blurted out, then quickly shut my eyes, unable to face his reaction.
"Kill you?" His laugh was short and cold, devoid of any humor. "Why would I do that when I'm not done playing with you yet?"
The words stung, bringing tears to the corners of my eyes.
His fingers traced my face, moving from my closed eyes down my nose, finally settling on my lips. I kept my eyes shut, lashes trembling uncontrollably.
"Open your eyes," he demanded suddenly, squeezing my face. "Open them and look at me."
I forced my eyes open, tears now freely streaming down my cheeks.
His grip loosened, but his thumb pressed against my lip, rubbing harshly. "Liv, what have I done wrong? Why can't you forget him?"
I'd explained countless times, exhausted myself with explanations. I remained silent, too tired to speak.
My silence enraged him further. He pulled me against him, his mouth finding mine in a punishing kiss that split my lip. I tasted blood but didn't make a sound.
He pulled back, watching me with heavy breaths, while I kept my gaze lowered, refusing to engage.
Without warning, he lifted me into his arms and carried me to the elevator.
Back in the apartment, Ethan threw me onto the sofa the moment the door closed behind us. The room was dark, illuminated only by the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I curled into myself, making my body as small as possible.
Ethan yanked off his tie and started unbuttoning his shirt with one hand. Halfway through, he lost patience and pulled, sending buttons scattering across the floor. His chest and defined abs gleamed in the dim light.
The metallic click of his belt buckle sliced through the silence, followed by the sound of leather sliding against fabric.
He stopped halfway and grabbed my hand, placing it on his belt. Looking down at me, he commanded, "Pull it out."
With trembling hands, I removed his belt, then let my arms fall to my sides.
"Continue," he instructed, his voice deceptively calm.
I raised my hands again, unfastening his suit pants and pulling down the zipper.
Ethan handed me my phone. "Call Blake."
My head snapped up, eyes wide. "What are you trying to do?"
"Call him," Ethan's voice was ice.
I turned away, refusing to take the phone or acknowledge his demand.
Ethan grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him while he pulled down the waistband of his boxer briefs with his other hand.
I struggled backward, but my strength was nothing compared to his.
His large hand gripped the back of my neck, holding me in place. I couldn't move—only my mouth remained free.
With his other hand, Ethan took my phone, unlocked it, and dialed Blake's number, putting it on speaker.
After a few seconds, Blake's voice filled the room: "Liv? What's wrong?"
I flinched, accidentally catching Ethan with my teeth.
He let out a low groan, then spoke in a husky voice. "Keep going, but watch the teeth. Deeper."
Blake's furious voice erupted from the speaker: "Ethan, what the fuck are you doing?"
Ethan addressed the phone, his voice filled with mock pleasantry. "Hello, dear nephew. What do you think your uncle is doing? Obviously, I'm—"
Before he could finish, he hissed in pain.
I scrambled to the corner of the sofa, watching Ethan's face contort with cold rage. My entire body trembled with fear, my mind blank with terror.
I regretted my impulsive action immediately. In that moment, I'd been so angry—angry at his cruel attempt to humiliate me in front of Blake—that I'd lost control.
Ethan didn't strike me as I feared. Instead, he grabbed my shoulders and flipped me over, forcing me to kneel on the sofa.
I struggled to stand, but Ethan's hand pressed firmly on the back of my neck. "Stay still," he commanded, his voice lethal.
I froze, knowing resistance was futile.
Ethan remained silent as he positioned himself behind me. Without any preparation, while I was still tense with fear, he thrust forward.
Pain shot through me, and I cried out.
Blake's voice came from the phone on the floor: "Ethan!"
I bit my lip hard, tears silently flowing down my face.
Ethan pressed his thumb against my mouth, his voice frost-bitten. "Scream. Loud."
I refused, clenching my jaw, determined not to make a sound.
The phone on the floor still showed an active call, Blake's voice audible through the speaker: "Uncle, if you're angry, take it out on me. Don't hurt Liv. She never reached out to me. I found out where she works—I went looking for her."
Ethan picked up the phone, continuing his rhythmic movements as he spoke breathlessly: "You're my brother's only son, and now that he's gone, how could I be angry with you?"
Blake's voice strained with controlled fury: "Uncle, I'm begging you. Let Liv go."
Ethan ignored Blake's plea, turning me to face him instead, his arm around my waist pulling me down hard.
I felt torn apart, my face contorted with pain.
Ethan's dark gaze bore into me as he spoke to Blake: "Who are you to her? What right do you have to ask me for anything?"
Blake's voice sounded defeated, his usual confidence gone: "Uncle, please."
Ethan tossed the phone aside, one arm holding me close while his other hand gripped my neck, his thumb gently wiping the tears from the corner of my eye.
"If I ever see you with him again, this happens. Every time. And how far I take it will depend only on my stamina."
Weakened, I whispered, "If you have the balls, just kill me."
Ethan cupped my face, his gaze intense. "If he really cared about you, he'd stay away."
At this point, I no longer felt afraid. I smiled defiantly. "Who I see is my choice. You don't control me."
Ethan's rage exploded. He lifted me up and carried me swiftly to the bedroom.
There, I endured the full force of his anger.
By three in the morning, I had reached my limit.
At the height of his passion, Ethan gripped my waist, his dark eyes fixed on mine, his voice hoarse. "Liv, tell me you love me. Say it."
Broken, I cried out through my tears: "You don't understand what love is!"
Ethan's cold laugh cut through the room. "Love? Olivia Reed, who are you to talk to me about love?"