My reflection stares back, and I barely recognize her. This woman who trusted someone else enough to let herself get lost in him. A woman who races through an empty town before being fucked down an alley. Who watches a man throw himself through the air and feels something crack open in her chest.
Tomorrow's my birthday.
Thirty-years-old.
And then it’ll be back to Chicago. Where whatever this thing is between Asher and me will have to end.
Because it has to end. There's no other option.
I grab my clutch and head for the door, but pause with my hand on the knob. This isn’t the room Asher I spent days in. It feels like a hospital room in a five-star hotel.
A hard tap on the door. “Ivy! Stop taking so fucking long.” And mumbling.
I roll my eyes, smoothing my skintight gown against my body. The fabric plunges between my breasts, forcing them up and out of my bra before cascading to the floor. “Yes.”
But it hides my back.Always.
I clear my throat and reset my expression, squaring my shoulders. When the door swings open, Parker's disdain slams into me like a fist to the ribs.
God, I fucking hate you.
His gaze crawls over my body, lingering on my chest like he owns every inch he sees. “We'll be late.”
“Wh—” He grabs me around the waist, yanking me against him. His touch burns through silk, forcing himself in places he’s never had the privilege of touching. “Parker, no.”
Every grip burns like lava, erasing Asher's fingerprints one brutal second at a time.
“Stop.”
“What do you mean no?” He tilts his head, burying his nostrils into the crook of my neck. “I can smell him on you.”
He shoves me away like discarded trash, before making his way to the window. “The fact that you're both flaunting your affair should come as a surprise, but it doesn't. I should punish you for embarrassing me this way, Ivy—” He takes a deep breath. “But I won’t. Because the truth is, I don’t love you.”
His shoulders relax, as if saying it out loud is cathartic. Slowly, he turns over his shoulder until he’s facing me. “I don’t love you. I never have. But you will continue this marriage, because if you don’t?” He holds my stare, carefully lowering his now empty glass to the small table between us. “Well, let's just say that I'd advise against it.”
“Why’d you marry me, Parker?” I ask, the muscles in my jaw taut.
He fixes his tie. “I think the better question, Ivanya, is why didyoumarry me?” A loud rasp on the door pulls us out of what I’m sure was about to be an argument, and Luce’s head pops through.
“You two ready? I would sure love to get these awards done.”
I nod, collecting my clutch and rolling the chain over my hand. I give one last glance over my shoulder before disappearing down the hall with my best friend’s arm in mine.
“Was that the conversation I think it was?” she murmurs as we make our way down the stairs.
I clear my throat. “Yes. He knows. He doesn't want a divorce, and he said I'm to stay married to him.”
“Well—” She picks up the train of her dress as we reach the door. “I guess that's an easy one for you then.”
I take one last look in the mirror, fixing my hair with fingers that won't stop trembling. Fucking trembling. As if I can't get my own shit together.
“Hey!” Luce's hand is on my shoulder. “Don't start.”
The cold bites through my dress the second I step outside, but it’s nothing compared to the way Daniel’s eyes lock onto mine. He’s standing by the car, arms crossed, his breath curling in the frigid air like a warning.
“You armed?” His voice is low, rough—no room for bullshit.
I don’t answer right away. Instead, I hike up the hem of my dress just enough to flash the holster strapped to my thigh. The metal glints under the porch light, cold and unapologetic. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. Just nods once, sharp, before stepping aside to let me pass.
