A wave of nausea mingled with the stabbing pain.
He released the pressure and kneeled, tapping the stick on my forehead. "Apology accepted."
"Fuck you."
He grabbed a fistful of my hair and bent to my ear. "I meant it when I said you’re nothing like me."
Blood spread across my vision. My world was going dark, as though Ethan’s words came from far away.
Naomi
Everything was gone.
Black soot covered the brick facade and sidewalk as smoke filled the lightening sky. The fire started sometime after dinner service and did not stop until it consumed half the building. I arrived in time to watch bright orange flames spiral the awning, and watched my family’s great legacy torch the night.
They wouldn't let me on the property, but a firefighter hugged me when he found out it was my building. I waited all night and most of the day, drowning myself in caffeine from nearby cafés. I bought lunch for the firefighters. It was the least I could do after they worked all night to salvage the building.
Ashes sprinkled my bomber jacket as I approached Steve, the chief firefighter, with water. He lounged on the fire truck without his coat, his white shirt streaked with sweat.
I gave him the bottle. "Here."
"Thanks." He twisted the cap and drank half the bottle, wiping the drops that sprinkled his beard. "Looks like it started in the kitchen. Might have been an electrical issue. We found some outdated wiring."
"Oh," I said.
"Hon, you should go home. Get some sleep. There’s nothing you can do here."
I nodded, and he patted my shoulder, but I couldn't bring myself to go home yet. Tens of thousands of dollars in renovations, gone. Our family’s legacy, destroyed.
Worst of all was yet to come.
Dad’s reaction. He’d be devastated. This was the place where he grew up, where he learned to cook from his father, who had been taught from his father. He hosted his wedding reception at Loretti’s. Countless memories spun a wheel in my head.
I took the subway home, resigned to an evening of taking care of my father. I trudged up the metro steps, my calves screaming from an all-nighter of hanging around the business, hoping the damage wouldn't be too bad. Heavy grief settled in my soul.
I walked two blocks before realizing I headed in the wrong direction, and on the way bumped into a young man. Instead of walking away, he fell into step beside me.
"Naomi, it’s me."
Ethan stood in front of my father’s brownstone, wearing a light, spring jacket over jeans. He rubbed his clean-shaven jaw and looked me up and down.
"Why are you covered in soot?"
My heart thundered, registering Ethan’s presence with numb surprise. "It’s gone."
Concern knitted his brows. "What is?"
"The restaurant." Two small tears squeezed from my eyes. "Everything. Gone."
I groped for the brownstone’s steps and collapsed onto them, leaning against the brick railing. Ethan touched my shoulder, a light brushing of his fingertips.
"I saw on the news. I'm sorry."
I rubbed my eyes. "What are you doing here?
"Something happened to Graham. He sent me to get you."
"Sent you?" The world wheeled on its axis. "What?"
"We reconciled. Didn’t he tell you?"
"No." My hand flew to my hair as I hiccupped through my tears. "I haven't talked to him in a couple of days. I can't believe he followed through. Wow, that's great."
"We have to go."
The urgency in Ethan’s tone hit a spike through my heart.
"Go where?" I swayed on my feet. "He’s hurt? What exactly do you mean?"
"I’ll explain in the car. Come."
Alarmed, I followed him to the sedan waiting on the curb. His bodyguard opened the door. I ducked inside, and Ethan followed, slamming it shut.
"Where are we going?"
"To Graham."
Going to Graham.
Disoriented, I tried to get a grip on the situation, but as soon as I nestled into the seatbelt, I closed my eyes. It felt amazing. The rocking motion of the car soothed me. My lids were too heavy to open. All I care about that I was safe, warm, and on my way to Graham.
Sleep. Need sleep.
* * *
A hand brushed my shoulder. I jolted awake, finding myself in a backseat of a car.
"Graham?"
"Me."
Disappointment flooded my heart, but I kept my expression neutral. "Oh."
"We’re here, Naomi. Time to go."
The haze from sleep lifted as I remembered why I came—an emergency concerning Graham. I exited the car and walked into a parking garage. Were we in a hospital? Ethan grabbed my arm, propelling me forward.
"This way."
I kept pace at a half-jog, racing into an elevator held open for us. The doors shut, and Ethan released me with a sigh. He looked like he’d had a long morning, and it worried me.
"What’s wrong with Graham?"
"We'll be there soon," Ethan assured me. "So, what caused the fire?"
Thinking of it brought a fresh wave of exhausted tears. "An electrical issue. The chief said it might’ve been outdated writing. It’s a nightmare."
"That can’t be. Everything’s new. We ripped that place down to the studs."
I shook my head, dislodging all thought of the fire.
"Where’s Graham. Where are we going?"
"Almost there." Ethan stood close, his eyes filled with pity. "You need to prepare yourself."
"For what?"
Fear coursed through my veins as the elevator pinged. The doors slid open, revealing a familiar black-and-white floor. Ethan grabbed the back of my arm and shoved. I stumbled into his apartment, catching myself on the floor.
What the hell was this?
Ethan’s expression smoothed as he pocketed his keys and spoke to a bodyguard. "Eric, you’re on the elevator."
A man built like a wall nodded, sliding in front of the doors.
"Graham’s not here," I said, stomach dropping.
"Quick on the uptake," he sneered. "Sorry."
"You have to be fucking kidding me." I rejected the hand Ethan offered, struggling to my feet. "This isn’t funny. Graham—"
"—is very busy at the moment. He’s waiting to see the judge. He’ll be charged with arson. He destroyed your restaurant."
I stared at him. Did Ethan think I'd buy that?
"Don’t believe me? Turn on the news."
"I don't care what it says. I know you're behind it." It was so incredibly stupid to follow him here. "God, you even told me you'd do it, and I got in your car."
I stalked toward the elevator. Ethan snatched my bicep and threw me back. I stumbled, furious. "Get the fuck out of my way."
"No."
I charged him. Ethan subdued me with a lazy twist of my arm. I screamed. He yanked me against his chest, chuckling.
"Even with one arm, you’re no match for me."
"Are you crazy?"
"I don’t want to hurt you. Please, don’t fight me."
The grin on his face said otherwise. This was a game to him.
I launched a fist in his side, and Ethan absorbed the blow with barely a grunt. He blocked another strike and seized my arm. A wide grin staggered across his face as he kicked open a door. He shoved me. The backs of my legs hit a bed.
His knees dug into my thighs, pinning me down. I slapped him, and he grabbed my wrist, digging his thumb into a pressure point. Pain sliced up my elbow. Terror bit the back of my throat, but I didn’t scream. He’d never get the satisfaction.
"Stop fighting me," he hissed. "I hate doing this."
"Please, don’t."
"If I let you go, will you calm down?"
"Yes," I promised.
He swung off me, and I leaped upright.
"Get away from me!"
He backed to the door, his cheek burning from my slap, but otherwise unruffled. His chest rose and fell with steady b
reaths.
"You can't stand to envision a world where Graham is the villain. I didn't commit arson, Naomi. Why would I?"
Because you’re crazy.
A deep fear stirred within my bowels as Ethan approached. His possessiveness had reached a new level of scary. I looked into his deep blues where I’d sworn I saw humanity.
I shrank from Ethan. "Why would Graham do that?"
"Because he wants to turn you against me."
"Why am I here?" I asked.
"Because you’re mine, and I’m too selfish to give you up."
A tremor worked through my legs, all the way into my arms. He was insane. "Please, let me go."
"You should be used to not getting your way by now."
"I’ll hurt you," I said, standing from the bed. "I’ll cut your throat while you sleep."
He smirked. "You’d never in a million years do that. You could’ve hurt me at the hospital. You didn’t, and you won’t do it now."
"I wouldn’t be so sure, Ethan."
"Then I look forward to the foreplay."
Naomi
No phone. No way to contact Graham. Short of grabbing a knife and ramming it into Ethan’s chest, I was stuck here.
Anger licked my skin like the flames that’d consumed my business. I was warming up to the idea of hurting that bastard, but even if I could work up the nerve, I wouldn’t win a knife fight. God knows what’d happen if I struck Ethan. Violence would escalate the situation, and I wanted his guard down.
Eventually, Graham would post bail and come for me. That was wishful thinking, though. If Ethan went through all the trouble to blow up my goddamned restaurant, falsely accuse my husband of arson, he probably crossed all his t’s. So far, he’d outsmarted us at every turn. He’d led me into his fucking jaws, and I walked inside.
How could I ever win against a man like him?
I left the bedroom and walked into the open concept kitchen. The whole place was wall-less, except for the bedrooms and toilets. Ethan liked having a view of everything in his house.
Ethan sat at the breakfast nook table he bought when I said the dining room was too formal. It was a cozier setting for meals that wore on me as our relationship deteriorated.
At my approach, he straightened.
"Morning. Sleep well?"
"Not really. You gave me a lot to think about."
Like when you became a total psychopath. I pulled the steel chair next to him, wincing as the cold metal bit into me.
"I did?"
I grabbed his mug of coffee and sipped, wishing I could throw it in his face.
"Now that I’m here, what do you want from me?"
Ethan met my gaze, never blinking. "A chance to fix things between us."
"But why?"
"You’re mine, and he stole you from me. I never got a chance to make things right." Ethan leaned closer, drawing a circle on the table. "I don’t want things to return to how they were. That wasn’t good for either of us."
Slowly, he reached for my hand. I let him take it, clenching shut my desire to throw him off.
"All I want is a second chance."
"What makes you think you deserve one?"
"Everyone does," he said, eyes boring into mine. "I won’t waste it by making the same mistakes."
"I don’t know." I injected doubt into my voice. "You seem to like hurting me for the sake of hurting me."
"I didn't understand you. And you never understood me."
He was right. I had no insight into Ethan’s warped brain.
He massaged my hand, the gentle touch a stark contrast from the brutal manhandling. It slid up my arm, and then I summoned the tears waiting to be beckoned.
"I loved you, but you cheated on me."
My tears wrenched at him. They always had.
Ethan looked away as though my emotion was indecent, but he couldn't pretend he didn't care. He cupped my cheek. "If I'd known the damage it would've caused—"
"How could you not?"
"I regret it. I’m sorry."
The words sounded strange spilling from his lips. He wasn't in the habit of apologizing, and it didn't suit him, because his eyes held no warmth.
His arm wrapped around my shoulders. Nausea tugged at my gut as a wave of disgust rolled over me. I couldn’t stand his touch, but it’d be amazing when the son-of-a-bitch realized.
I manipulated him.
Changing seats, I crawled onto his lap and shook with sobs, working myself into an inconsolable mess. He trapped me against his chest and kissed my head, slowly blazing a path to my cheek and mouth.
His lips were soft, barely there. Then they returned with bruising force, lashing me with passion. He pressed the back of my head, but then he sensed my reluctance.
He pulled back. "What’s wrong?"
You disgust me. "I’m not ready."
"I understand."
He didn’t. His twin blue flames shone with disappointment and lust.
"Where’s my phone?"
His lips tugged into a smile, as though I’d proved him right about something. "Hidden until I know you won’t call the police. Or Graham."
"Why should I give you a second chance when you keep my phone away from me? You said you wanted to change. So change. Make an effort. Show me you care."
He touched my face. His knuckle swept down to my neck, where he felt my throbbing heartbeat.
"I’ll give you your phone back. If you agree to come to Paris with me, tonight."
Shit. "What’s in Paris?"
"We need to get away, Naomi. There’s too much drama in New York. I can’t make it two feet in this city without someone writing about it."
"I'm—I'm not sure this is the best time. My business was burnt to the ground."
"Your problems will still be there when you get back."
Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Ethan, I can’t just take off to Paris."
A smile staggered across his face. "It’s up to you, of course."
No, it wasn't.
* * *
I couldn’t do anything without a phone, so I caved.
Fucking Paris.
How could Graham help me if I left New York?
Stress poisoned my guts as I debated what to do. My phone chimed with messages from Graham’s sister, but I couldn’t answer them without the asshole reading.
Graham hadn’t called or texted. News about Graham’s shocking arrest disappeared overnight. Ethan must’ve thrown money at news outlets to keep it under wraps. It did him zero favors to have people investigating that story too closely. Graham probably had an iron-clad alibi.
I composed an email when Ethan left on an errand.
Graham,
He’s taking me to Paris.
I deleted sentences describing how much I loved him. That I was scared, but I had a plan. Every communication was compromised. I couldn’t say that I was sorry. Graham’s instincts were right about his brother. I should’ve listened.
I sent the email and deleted it from my Sent folder. Hours ticked by quickly as I packed my suitcase. I sipped ginger tea and managed to get down two slices of bread. My only companion was the bodyguard, who scowled when I glanced his way. While I waited for Ethan, I looked out at Manhattan and wiped my tears.
I’d escaped him once. I’d do it again.
Graham
My wife needed me.
Sweat poured down my face as I struggled to inhale one painless breath. Pain was a live wire slicing into my flesh, radiating from the healing surgery incision, contusions from the beating, and my cracked ribs.
They took me to Blackwood Presbyterian and stuffed me into Ethan’s private ward. I was desperate to leave. Unfortunately, the cop at my bedside played deaf and wouldn’t respond.
What a nightmare.
The door swung open, admitting a tall man in fitted jeans and a crew neck sweater. Ethan appraised me as he stood at my hospital bed. He didn’t smile, but his eyes gloated in my pain. Then he grabbed my chart.
"Three f
ractured ribs. One ruptured spleen. Emergency surgery to repair said spleen. Damn." He turned around, winking at the officer. "Someone did a number on you."
I clenched my teeth, blinded by an aura of pain.
"Officer Brown, could you please remove that?" Ethan asked. "I don’t think he’s going anywhere."
The cop lurched forward to do his bidding, unlocking the cuffs and swinging them at his side. "Would you like some privacy?"
Warmth glowed in Ethan's voice. "That'd be wonderful. Thank you."
Great.
I braced myself for more pain as the officer left. I was in no condition to fight back, and Ethan knew it. He sat in the chair next to my bed, frowning.
"You have a morphine drip, you know."
He pushed it in my hand.
I shoved it aside, seething. "Fuck you."
"Tit for tat, Graham."
"You call this equal?"
"I won’t be able to use this hand for months." He lifted the useless arm. "You’ll be out of commission for much less time. If anything, I was lenient."
I groaned when he touched my torso. "Don’t."
Ethan grabbed the morphine drip and smirked.
"No, I don’t want—ah."
His thumb rolled the dial, and pleasure rammed into me. It was instantaneous and exquisite. A carefree optimism spread through me. I was without a body, spinning.
"Naomi and I are back together."
I couldn’t feel the horror. "No."
His face swam closer, grotesque in its glee. "It’s what she wanted after seeing your face all over the security camera footage."
“Fake footage. You fucking tool."
"Nice comeback."
"Where’s my wife?"
"With me," he said. "We’re even. You got me. I got you. The judge will drop the arson charges. Eventually. I’ve already pushed it out of the news circulation."
"I can’t believe you did that to her."
"You forced my hand, Graham. I didn’t want to hurt her." Ethan nudged the morphine again, making my head swim. "I’m tired of this. I want to live my life."
"She doesn’t want to be with you."
"This morning, I woke up with her in my arms." Ethan dropped the morphine dial. "You’ve lost. Accept it."
The Marriage Debt Page 17