My heart flew out to him. "You do give off an untouchable vibe."
"Well, shit," he said, grumpily. "How do I fix that?"
I laughed, breaking eye contact with him. "I’m not sure."
He draped his arm over me. He pulled me into his body. A jolt of fear and excitement zinged my spine. The possessiveness was familiar. His eyes. The cut of his suit. His obvious wealth.
I wanted him to be Graham.
Ethan turned, his lips touching my ear. "What about now?"
I burned from head to toe, unable to speak. His stare like a torch held to my cheek. "Better."
His smile kept growing. "You’re single?"
"Me?" A flush crawled up my neck when he chuckled. "Yes."
He squeezed my shoulder. "Drink."
I grabbed the glass, hoping the beer would drown my nerves. I bumped it against his. "Cheers."
"What are we toasting?"
To freedom, I thought, but I didn’t feel free. "To drinking buddies."
"I’m not going to be your buddy."
"No?"
Ethan smirked. "No."
Naomi
Ethan insisted on being my problem. I didn’t want to go, but none of Ethan’s friends would. His dad was in Amsterdam, and his stepmother-of-the-week couldn’t be bothered. That left me to deal with Ethan’s crisis.
The sign flared red into blackness as I ran inside. I collided with the CMO, who rushed from the security desk. Even though I’d moved on from Ethan, I hated the apprehension on Richard’s face. He was more worried about losing his cash cow.
“Ethan’s this way." Richard swiped his badge, opening the mechanical doors into a bustling room with dozens of triage beds.
I followed him at a jog. "He was attacked?"
The idea was absurd — unthinkable. Who would be stupid enough to do such a thing? I wondered if he’d been drinking. Perhaps a server hadn’t reacted well to a cutting remark. Unlikely.
Before Graham, I never saw him do anything violent.
"He's had a very traumatic incident," Richard said, walking quickly. "They gave him some relief, but he's still in a lot of pain."
Fear darted in my heart when Richard finally led me to a curtained area. He grabbed the hanging blue cloth and paused.
"I’ll be here if you need anything."
I nodded, unable to speak. My limbs shook as I approached the room and peeled back the privacy screen. A shirtless man lay on a gurney, his pallid skin gleaming with sweat. Ethan’s stared at the ceiling. He gritted his teeth in silent torment, and then I noticed all the blood. His right arm was gloved in red. At the center of his forearm, a horrible wound cratered with dark flesh and jagged bone.
"Oh my God."
I ran to his side and grabbed his other, non-mangled arm. Ethan forced his lids closed, agony twisting his face. I touched his chin, and slowly, his head lolled to the side. His eyes slid out of focus as he inhaled short, painful breaths. He didn’t seem to recognize me. He was like a white sheet. Expressionless. Gone.
"Hey, I’m here." My voice jumped an octave when he made no sign of recognition. "Ethan, it’s me. You’ll be all right."
"He’s in shock," one of the nurses explained. "Ma’am, we need to bring him to surgery."
"Okay.”
An unspoken plea burned in his gaze, and my pity swelled to answer it. I left the room and declined Richard’s offers of coffee, mind throbbing with the horrific injury. As much as I wanted Ethan’s problems to stop being mine, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the hospital.
In the waiting room, called everybody again. His dozens of lackeys refused to flock to his bedside. Nobody gave a single shit that Ethan was in the hospital, and I hated that I was too nice to go home.
How did this happen?
He went everywhere with an entourage, but he was transported to the hospital alone. Sheer curiosity kept me from texting Graham, who wouldn’t like me staying here. Still, I owed my husband an explanation.
I opened my phone and composed a brief text.
Me: I’m in the middle of something. I’ll explain when I get back in a few hours.
Graham: OK
I smiled at the one-word reply. Perhaps there was hope for us, after all.
* * *
"You can see him now," said Doctor Nguyen.
"Okay." I stood up, releasing a bone-cracking yawn.
The pint-sized orthopedic surgeon indicated that I should follow. "The surgery went well, and he's heavily sedated, but conscious."
"Thanks," I said, deciding not to bother explaining that we’d broken up. "Is he all right?"
Before she answered the question, Richard approached me. "I’ll take over from here, doctor. Thank you."
He walked me to a ward reserved for the rich and famous. Security was tighter, and hints of Ethan's extravagance were everywhere. Hardwood floors. Plasma screens next to hospital beds. Pottery Barn furniture.
"Can I get you anything?" Richard asked as he led me to Ethan’s room. "Coffee? Tea?"
"Thanks. I'm fine." I glanced through the window and prepared myself. "I won't be long."
"Of course."
How interesting. Richard didn’t question why Ethan’s fiancé didn’t want to spend another second with him.
I grabbed the door and stepped inside a room. Ethan sat upright, propped by three pillows. His arm was heavily bandaged rock and elevated, but he couldn’t care less. He wore the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face.
"Hey."
He sounded very, very drunk.
I walked to his side and drew up a chair, relieved that he wasn’t screaming in pain. "I've never seen you this happy."
Or relaxed.
"That’s because I’m on enough fentanyl to tranquilize a horse." Ethan’s brown locks fanned over the white pillow, as he laughed at nothing in particular. "Fuck me. This is good shit."
So he was loose and vulnerable.
Good. "Ethan, what happened?"
Wild laughter burst from his chest. His chuckle subsided, and he cringed with pain.
"I need you to focus. Who did this?"
His smile faltered. "I don't want to talk about it."
"The police will be along any second."
"Police? No police."
I gaped at him. "Don't you intend to file a report?"
"No."
I leaned forward. "That doesn’t make sense."
"I’m not talking to anyone."
"Why the hell not?" I searched him for an answer to this extremely uncharacteristic behavior. "Well, maybe when you’re sober, you’ll feel differently."
"I’ll get them back my way. Shit. I didn’t mean to say that." He cursed against the accidental slip. "Stop asking me questions."
I leaned into my chair, suddenly a lot more cheerful. This was a golden opportunity to ask anything I wanted. He’d tell the truth, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. He had zero control.
This was Ethan’s worst nightmare, and I was going to use it against him. "Who did this?"
"Graham."
I stared into his cobalt eyes. "He couldn’t have. He was with me."
"His men," Ethan sneered. "You know the type. Dark eyes. Dark hair. Italian."
Mobsters.
Could that have been why Damon wanted to speak to Graham alone? Horror gripped my throat.
"How do I know you're not lying?"
"I was approached by two thugs a week ago. They swung by my office. I’m not sure how they got in. But they mentioned your restaurant. I told them I'd never sell. A week later, they did this to me."
"How?"
It was Graham. Disgust welled inside me for what he’d done. He’d involved me in a vicious beating. Lied to me.
"How did they get you alone?"
"Stop interrogating me," he hissed.
I touched his shoulder, willing him to believe me. "This wasn’t me. I swear."
"I know." Ethan sighed, gritting his teeth. "Damn it."
"All r
ight," I said, the resolve building inside me. "I have some questions. About us."
He closed his eyes. "Fuck."
I stroked his hair. Ethan’s sliding gaze fell over me once more. He was helpless.
"Did you cheat on me?"
"Yes." The answer rolled from his lips. "Twice."
I waited for pain to strike my chest, but nothing happened. "Did you threaten the oncology team?"
"Yes."
"Did you love me?"
Ethan’s cheeks were wet. I couldn't tell from which pain. "I don't know. Please, stop."
"Did you ever want kids?"
"No."
So he lied about that, too. "And you tracked me down to fuck with Graham."
"Yes," he said, reaching out for me. "But everything after our first night was because I wanted you."
My eyes burned with the pain of being used by someone who I’d wasted five years with.
"Why do you hate me?"
"I don’t."
"Was there anything in our relationship that was real, you prick?"
"I wanted you. I still want you." Exhaustion slacked his features as he stopped struggling against the drug. "You have no idea."
"How could you do this to me?"
"I hate him. He ruined my life."
Ethan blinked, looking startled at what he’d just revealed. Beads of sweat rolled down his head. He fought for control and lost.
"Go away," he said, his voice breaking. "Please."
I did.
Only a monster would've stayed there to torture him. That's not who I was.
Graham
Naomi flinched when I slammed the door.
My keys sailed over the kitchen counter. I ripped off my jacket and dumped it on the floor. I kicked off my shoes and headed for my bedroom. Halfway between dialing Ethan to tell him I’d break his other arm, Naomi grabbed my wrist.
Oh, she was pissed. That was fucking rich.
Seven hours ago, my useless bodyguard told me my wife said to get lost. She wandered New York without protection for that long, and when she finally rang my phone, it was to say she was with Ethan.
I could’ve snapped the bedpost and hurled it through the window. Naomi opened her mouth with a determined air, but I beat her to it.
"What the hell, Naomi? Where do you get off dismissing your security to sneak off with that bastard?" I yelled, head pounding with a vicious headache.
She tore the scarf from her throat, her hair wild and her eyes and lips beet-red. "First off, I do whatever I want. You’re not my keeper. Second, I was on his goddamned emergency contact list. The hospital called."
"Whose ring is on your fucking finger?"
"Yours," she shrieked. "I didn’t go there for him. I had questions."
"Like what?" I stewed.
Slowly, Naomi walked to me. A dangerous, half-cocked grin played on her lips. "I think you know."
I did, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. I leaned in closer, grazing my mouth against her cheek. "No idea what you’re talking about, darling."
"You’re so full of shit," she said acidly. "Who the hell attacks a man like Ethan in this city?"
I laughed. "Me."
"Yeah, you," she snarled. "Is there anyone else?"
"I can think of a dozen people who’d love to be in a room alone with that guy."
"Don’t be a smartass. He’s always surrounded by his lackeys."
She was closing in on me like a shark, except my poor wife didn’t know something.
I felt zero guilt.
She tore across the room and shoved me. "I wouldn’t have been in that hospital room if it weren’t for you!"
How did she find out?
Earlier this evening, Damon called to talk about his fiancée and slipped a keyword to let me know the job was done.
I was dying to find out how badly he was beaten. "What happened?"
"They broke his arm," she said in a ragged voice. "It was—it was awful. Blood everywhere. Bone was sticking out. They put him in surgery. He was…different."
Damon gave me his word Naomi would never find out. Once again, thwarted by Ethan. Naomi’s eyes shone with the horror of what she’d seen.
"Most likely, he was milking it to get your sympathy."
"No, he was in shock." Tears filled her gaze, which she quickly wiped away. "I’ve never seen anyone like that."
Having it done in Manhattan was a severe misfire. I should've known the prick would've used this against me. It wouldn't happen again.
"Please tell me Ethan’s a liar," she begged. "Tell me you had nothing to do with this."
I couldn’t.
Devastation filled her gaze when I stayed silent.
"Did you?"
"Yes, and I regret nothing."
Naomi’s hand whirled, and a vicious sting forced my face sideways. I was impressed by how much it smarted. I stepped forward. She moved away.
"He deserves so much worse. You know that."
"No, I don’t." She pushed me roughly, backing into a dresser. "I can't fathom doing that to someone. It’s vile."
"People like Ethan need to be punished. He won’t learn unless he’s badly hurt, and it takes a lot to hurt someone like him."
"You’re insane!"
I didn’t think so. "He'll remember that broken arm for the rest of his life. Every morning, when he wakes up to do God-knows-what, he’ll take off his shirt and see that scar. Then he’ll remember what I did to him. If he doesn't learn from that, he's an idiot."
"It won’t teach him anything. He’ll be even more vicious." Naomi looked at me as though she sensed the darkness consuming my soul. "How could you do this?"
It was remarkably easy. "I did it for you."
"You didn’t do this for me. This was for your pride. You won’t use me as an excuse."
"You asked me to help you with the restaurant. That’s what I did."
"Did I ask you to break his arm? No! You’ve made me feel responsible for what happened to him. And it makes me sick."
"You weren’t supposed to find out."
"That doesn’t make it any better!" Naomi screamed, looking at me like I was mad and dangerous. "You needed an excuse to hurt him."
"Of course, I fucking did." I tore her hands from me and paced the room, wishing I had something to throw. "Ethan is a power-hungry, manipulative sadist."
"Who broke his arm?"
"It’s payback, sweetheart. The asshole has had it coming for years." It poured out as my mind ran a gallery of humiliating images. "He was always older, bigger, stronger. They put us in the same goddamned school, and when the rumor mill started flying around, he got a hold of me like a dog with its chew toy. Ethan did things I'll never forget."
Naomi grabbed my shoulder, her tone pleading. "All this hate between you keeps screwing with your life. Stop fighting him. Let it go."
My eyes slid to hers. "You ask the impossible."
Years of cruelty, headlocks until I passed out and woke up in the nurse’s office, beatings until my knuckles split open, and now this.
"Graham, please." She linked her hands around my neck, face tipped toward mine.
"Who sent the death threat that made me leave Vegas in the first place? He stole you from me, Naomi." I stroked her hair as tears squeezed from her eyes. "If you were happy, maybe I could forgive him. That’s the worst part. You suffering, because I let you go."
"Stop." She took my face. "You have to quit blaming yourself.”
“How can I not?”
“It—It wasn’t always bad. In the beginning, he was fine. Decent. But he wasn’t you, Graham, and he knew that. He was never going to be enough for me. He'd hurt me, and he'd make me feel loved, and then he'd hurt me again…until there was nothing between us but bitterness."
I was doing the same thing to her.
"This back and forth fighting needs to end. Enough is enough." Naomi wrapped her arms around me, squeezing hard. "I want a life with you. I’m in love with you."
My chest caved in.
"I wanted to tell you in Vegas. I didn’t have the courage. I love you, but I don’t know if you’ll ever love me."
I did.
I loved her so blindly, I would’ve killed Ethan for her.
Naomi
I couldn’t save my husband. Alone, it wasn’t possible for me to breathe a soul into him.
He needed his family back.
My fist knocked on the door of an apartment in Upper West Side. As billionaire dwellings went, it was shockingly reasonable. Right next to a bustling college campus.
I pressed my ear to the wood and music tinkled through. People argued over the jazz as someone used the kitchen sink. It sounded chaotic. I knocked again, louder. One of them bounced to the door. Their footsteps creaked the floorboards.
"Got it," roared a woman. "Hello!"
I saw Graham in her high cheekbones, and there was something of his lips in her smile. She was beautiful, with hair like copper fire. Vivid green eyes stared at me, widened slightly in recognition. The polite smile slowly faded.
"You’re my new sister-in-law," she deadpanned.
"Yes. Yes, I am." I hoped she wouldn’t slam the door in my face. "Can I come inside? I need to talk to you."
An impatient voice bellowed from the other room. "Blair, this was your idea. I’m not rolling a hundred dumplings myself."
I peeked over her shoulder. In the kitchen, an exasperated man attempted to fish out something from a bubbling pot.
"Shit, this is nothing like a lab. I'm not a cook!"
"You can do it, babe." She shouted encouragement to him before turning to me. "Sure. Come in."
I grimaced at that tepid response but considered myself lucky she hadn't forced me outside. We entered the two-bedroom apartment, whose kitchen table sprawled with a cookbook and flour.
A man in a button-down shirt held up his flour-caked fingers. "Sorry, can’t shake hands. I’m Liam."
"Naomi. I’m—I’m Graham’s wife."
A smile cracked his face, but Blair looked forbidding.
"Yeah, we know. Graham's my best friend. He texted me a couple of times, but didn't say much." Liam eyed me with interest, almost as though he was sizing me up.
The Marriage Debt Page 14