Chapter 4

I saw them before they saw me.

Ryan and Sophie, sitting at a café two blocks from my office, laughing over coffee like two people who hadn't destroyed someone's entire life to get there. Sophie had her hand resting on his arm. Ryan was smiling at her the way he used to smile at me, back when smiling at me still meant something.

Something in my chest went white hot.

I didn't plan to walk over. My feet just moved, carrying me straight to their table before my brain caught up with what I was about to do.

"Having fun?" I said.

Ryan's smile dropped instantly. Sophie's hand came off his arm like she'd been burned.

"Elena." Ryan stood halfway up, like he thought manners mattered now. "What are you doing here?"

"I work two blocks away, Ryan. Oh you've forgotten. Funny running into the two of you looking so damn happy." My voice was shaking, but I kept going. "Tell me something. Does she know you cried on the phone to me last week? Begging me to take you back?"

Sophie's face went pale. Ryan's jaw tightened.

"That's not fair," he said.

"Fair?" I laughed, and it came out ugly. "You want to talk to me about fair?"

"You said no." His voice hardened, some of the guilt from weeks ago replaced with something colder. "I begged you, Elena. I told you I was sorry, I told you I wanted to fix things, and you shut the door in my face. So yeah, I went back to Sophie. What did you expect me to do? Sit around waiting for you to forgive me?"

"You cheated on me for three months."

"And you've spent three months punishing me for it. You're jealous and you can't let go, and honestly, it's exhausting." He said it flat, like he'd rehearsed it. "Maybe if you weren't so unforgiving, things would have been different."

I stared at him, waiting for the anger to come out as words. Nothing came. There was nothing left to say to a man who could look me dead in the eye and call me unforgiving for refusing to accept being cheated on.

I walked away from that table without another word, because giving him one more second of my attention felt like losing.

By the time I got home, the anger had curdled into something colder and more focused. Jealous. Unforgiving. Those words kept looping in my head the whole cab ride, and somewhere between my front door and my bedroom, I stopped crying and started planning.

I wasn't going to cry over Ryan Carter again.

I was going to make sure he never forgot what it felt like to lose me.

I thought about Adrian's hands on my jaw. His voice telling me to take off my bra. The way he stopped himself every single time, like some kind of saint who'd decided I wasn't worth the risk.

Fine. If he wanted to play it that careful, I'd stop giving him the choice.

I was going to sleep with Adrian Carter. And I was going to send Ryan the proof myself.

I didn't call ahead. I didn't text. I put on my coat and walked straight to his house that night, my heart pounding the entire way, fueled by something that felt less like desire and more like war.

His assistant let me in without question, maybe used to me showing up unannounced. Adrian was in his study when I found him,  a glass of whiskey sitting untouched on his desk.

"Elena." He looked up, surprised, then immediately wary, like he could read the change in me before I said a single word. "It's late."

"I know."

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened." I crossed the room toward him, my voice steadier than I felt. "I just wanted to see you."

He studied my face for a long moment, and whatever he saw there made his jaw tighten. "You're upset about something."

"I'm not upset." I stopped in front of him, close enough that I could see the exact moment his eyes darkened. "I'm done waiting for you to stop being so damn careful with me."

"Elena..."

"Take off my coat." My voice came out lower than I expected. "Or I will."

He didn't move for a second. Then his hands came up, slow, deliberate, and slid the coat off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor behind me. His eyes moved over me, taking in the dress underneath, and something in his expression shifted from wary to something darker.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he said quietly.

"You keep telling me how dangerous you are." I stepped closer, close enough now that I had to tilt my head back to hold his gaze. "Prove it, then."

His hand came up to my waist, fingers pressing into the fabric of my dress, and for a long moment neither of us moved. Then, voice rough, he said, "Take off your pants."

I didn't hesitate this time. I reached down and undid the button, sliding the fabric down my legs and stepping out of them, dropping them on the floor beside my coat, my eyes never leaving his.

Something flickered across his face. Surprise, maybe, that I hadn't flinched. That I'd done it without a second of doubt.

"You really don't scare easy," he said, almost to himself.

"No."

He moved closer, one hand sliding along my hip, the other coming up to tilt my chin toward him the same way he had twice before. My whole body went taut, waiting, certain that whatever line he'd drawn before was about to disappear completely tonight.

"Close your eyes," he said.

I did.