The room was pitch dark until he suddenly flicked on the lights, making me squint.
I instinctively raised a hand to shield my eyes.
A heartbeat later, he was on me—eyes bloodshot, breath heavy with alcohol.
He pinned me down on the bed, his kiss harsh, laced with anger and liquor.
“Sophia,” he rasped, biting down hard enough on my lip to draw blood.
“Did you tell Chloe you don’t love me?”
“Did you send her to push me into a divorce?”
“I swear, I’d like to cut you open just to see what your heart is made of—how can it be this cold?”
He made it hurt on purpose, and I couldn’t help but frown, shoving at him.
“Ethan, are you out of your damn mind?”
“Was Chloe not enough to satisfy you out there, so you came here to torment me?
If one isn’t enough, should I line up a few more for you?”
Fury burned in his eyes, but he only let out a bitter laugh.
“So if I ran off with some other girl, you’d still bury yourself in work and wouldn’t even look at me?”
I met his gaze, steady and calm, and nodded.
“Yes.”
“Even if you and Chloe did it right in front of me, I wouldn’t bat an eye.”
Ethan froze, then gave a hollow, self-mocking laugh.