Chapter 2
It was a dinner by candlelight. The wine in my glass looked like blood, cold and smooth as it slid down my throat, lighting a fire that slowly spread through every inch of me.
Michael loved his drinks, so for the past three years, I always ended up cooking for him, switching up the menu to keep his weak stomach in check.
But was the guy in front of me really the Michael I thought I knew?
Resting my head in my hand, fighting off the lingering discomfort as my body slowly woke up, I managed to flash him a smile. "So, does tonight's dinner suit your taste?"
"It's alright," Michael said. Still, he was helping himself to way more food than usual.
The whole table was loaded with hotel takeout, greasy and salty dishes everywhere.
"Michael, I got my nails done today. What do you think?" I asked.
He shot me an impatient look. "That color doesn't suit you. You don't have good skin, so bright colors really don't work for you. Didn't anyone tell you before you got them done?"
"If you don't like them, I'll have them redone tomorrow," I said.
"Whatever. Weren't we supposed to be getting engaged?" Michael replied.
Just then, a notification popped up on my phone. 170 thousand landed in my account.
"Here, use it to buy a ring. You've been nagging me about it nonstop these past couple of days, and it's giving me a headache," Michael said.
He didn't look at me after that, got busy texting on his phone, grinning at whatever he was seeing.
But he accidentally hit play on a voice message.
A sweet, girlish voice rang out loud and clear at the table. "I'm your puppy, sir."
The plate slipped from my hand, but thanks to the carpet, it didn't shatter.
A bit of the plush wool carpet got soaked. I crouched down, quickly wiping at the corner of my eye.
Michael jumped in, trying to explain. "She was joking. You know Sophie. She's got no filter and blurts things out."
Sophie was a young student he'd been helping out for the past two years.
But when did they get so close? Was it back when she first started college? Or was it during all those nights he claimed he was working late or out with friends?
No one would send a voice message like that to someone they barely knew.
The hickeys brazenly on display beneath his collar, combined with what I'd overheard that afternoon, only made everything sting more.
I didn't dare to think about it in detail.
All those doubts felt like countless glass fibers stabbing into my heart, and every breath was filled with a persistent ache.
I was so naive, actually believing he wasn't such a jerk.
Suddenly, an arm wrapped around my waist and hoisted me onto the dining table. The chill of the marble shot up my spine, while the heat in my stomach climbed up to my chest.
The sudden rush of hot and cold made my head spin.
There was definitely something wrong with that wine. Everything started to blur and double in front of my eyes.
I was sure I'd only had half a glass, nowhere near enough to get drunk.
Michael's familiar brown eyes were filled with concern. "Is your ankle acting up again? You were standing for a while. Let the hotel staff handle the mess."
"No, I'm okay," I replied.
As I was about to slide off the table, his hand suddenly caught my knee, his fingertips started drawing lazy circles on my skin, slowly moving higher. "Tonight's right for this, huh, babe?"
Michael tore open the side of my mermaid dress, standing between my legs, moving in, ready to take whatever he wanted. The raw desire in his eyes jolted me back to reality for a moment.
He didn't love anyone.
I shoved him away and tumbled off the table, digging my nails into my palms to snap myself back to reality.
"Sorry, I'm not feeling it tonight—" I started, but before I could finish, the doorbell rang.
Sophie Summers walked in.
Her voice was syrupy sweet as she threw her arms around Michael's neck, shamelessly begging for a kiss.
Michael pretended to push her away a couple of times, but soon they were practically glued together, getting all cozy and whispery. Then they headed out together, closing the door behind them.
A little while later, the door opened again.
Ethan hurried over and crouched down so we were eye to eye.
"Eth—" I started, but after saying that one word, my back was drenched in cold sweat. Beads of sweat rolled down from my forehead into my eyes, stinging too much for me to open them.
That desire inside me kept raging, growing out of control.
The missed call from Jessica dimmed on my screen, and Ethan's shoe sent my phone skidding across the table.
Ethan pulled me into a tight embrace, burying his face in the hollow of my neck and breathing me in deeply. His broad palm slid through the ripped seam of my mermaid dress.
Now it was all too convenient for him. "It's okay, relax. It's a little thing. Let it go, and you'll feel better."
"Get off me." Through my blurry vision, I caught a glimpse of something glowing, maybe a fragment of something.
I strained to reach for it, but Ethan swept me up with ease, locking his arms around my waist.
It was obvious where he was headed. It was the bedroom.
"No can do, sweetheart. How about you save that fight for something that actually matters?" Ethan murmured.