Emily stopped dead in her tracks. Her blood turned to ice water.
She crept forward, her hand trembling as she pushed the door open just a few more inches.
Ryan was sitting back in his leather armchair. He was still wearing his tailored suit jacket, but his pants were unzipped and pushed down. Straddling his lap, completely naked, was a blonde woman with her head thrown back, riding him with an aggressive, desperate rhythm.
"Ryan!" Emily shrieked, the sound tearing from her throat in a raw, hysterical pitch.
The woman gasped, freezing and scrambling to cover her chest. Ryan didn't jump. He didn't scramble. He simply stopped moving, letting out a heavy, annoyed sigh. He looked past the naked woman on his lap and locked eyes with Emily.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Emily screamed, tears of absolute fury springing to her eyes. "Are you actually cheating on me right now? In our house? How could you do this?!"
"Emily, lower your voice," Ryan said, his tone terrifyingly calm and completely devoid of guilt. He pulled the woman against him, tucking her head under his chin and running his fingers through her hair in a protective embrace that made Emily’s heart ache. "You don't need to make a fuss. Go upstairs to our room and wait for me."
Emily stared at him, her chest heaving, her mind snapping under the sheer audacity of the command. "Go upstairs? You must be out of your damn mind if you think I'm going upstairs!"
Ryan’s eyes darkened. The calm facade dropped, replaced by the cold, ruthless titan who crushed people for a living.
"I said," Ryan’s voice dropped an octave, the tone vibrating with a dark, absolute authority, "go. Now."
The look in his eyes made Emily’s breath catch in her throat. It was a look that promised complete destruction if she disobeyed. The realization hit her with sickening clarity: he wasn't Harrison. She couldn't manipulate him. He owned the house, the money, and her lifestyle.
Trembling, completely stripped of her power, Emily backed away. She turned and fled down the hallway.
Before she even reached the stairs, she heard the moans start again. Louder this time.
She sat on the edge of the king-sized bed in their master suite for nearly an hour, sobbing, her perfectly manicured nailsdigging into her palms. The victory of the bridal store and the smugness at the mall had evaporated, leaving behind a cold, terrifying reality.
Finally, the bedroom door opened.
Ryan walked in. His suit was perfectly adjusted, his tie knotted, his cuffs immaculate. He walked over to the dresser and began taking off his watch, entirely unbothered.
Emily launched herself off the bed, flying across the room and slamming her fists into his chest.
"You bastard!" she screamed, hitting him again. "You liar! You cheating piece of trash! You had no right!"
Ryan easily caught both of her wrists in one of his hands, gripping her tight enough to bruise, and pushed her back a step.
"Stop it, Emily. You're being hysterical," he said calmly, looking down at her. "You are exaggerating a situation that has absolutely nothing to do with you."
"Nothing to do with me?!" she sobbed, struggling against his grip. "I am your fiancé! I am wearing your ring! Who the hell was she?"
"Sloane. She's a junior associate at the firm," Ryan answered, as casually as if he were reading a grocery list. He let go of her wrists and smoothed his tie. "And it was just sex, Emily. Nothing more."
"You didn't even use a condom!" she cried, the absolute humiliation and betrayal slicing deep into her chest. "I saw you! You told me you loved me!"
"I do love you," Ryan said smoothly. He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. His touch felt like a snake slithering across her skin. "You are a beautiful woman. You gave me a beautiful son, and you give me the perfect image for my partners. You are the mother of my children, and you are the woman I am going to marry."
He leaned in close.
"I am a powerful man, Emily," Ryan whispered. "And powerful men have appetites. Sex with Sloane, or anyone else, changes absolutely nothing for us. You get the ring, the chic hotel wedding, and the estate. I get to do what I want. That is the arrangement."
Emily stared at him, the tears freezing on her face.
She looked around the massive, luxurious bedroom. She looked at the diamond on her finger. And then she looked at the man she was tied to.
She had spent years manipulating men, using their guilt and love to get whatever she wanted. She thought she was the predator. But looking into Ryan’s cold, unyielding eyes, Emily finally realized the horrifying truth.
She wasn't the predator. She was just the property.
