Chapter 1

Every time my husband, Ethan Sterling, brought a younger woman home, he was considerate enough to bring a younger man for me too.

“I need something new. You need company.”

He said it as casually as if he were discussing an ordinary business deal.

“We both get what we want, Claire. No one gets to judge the other.”

For the past three years, I had sent every one of those men away.

Until this time, Ethan finally went too far.

When he brought the pregnant Chloe back to the villa, he also brought me a hockey player with broad shoulders and a narrow waist.

“Chloe got pregnant by accident.”

He set down his whiskey, speaking with the patience of a man trying to reason with me.

“She doesn’t want the baby to be born illegitimate, so we’ll get divorced for now.”

“After the baby is born, I’ll marry you again.”

He pointed toward the young man standing beside the fireplace.

“Until then, Julian can keep you company. I won’t interfere.”

He probably thought I would do what I always did—slip Julian a check and tell him to leave.

This time, I didn’t.

Instead, I smiled faintly.

“Yes.”

Ethan paused with the cigar between his teeth.

“Claire, what did you just say?”

I set down my phone and shifted my gaze from Ethan to Julian.

“I said yes.”

I looked him over from head to toe.

He stood over six feet tall, with short dark-brown hair and deep gray-blue eyes.

His lean, powerful body was wrapped in a simple white shirt, yet he looked cleaner than every self-important man in the room.

“You’re right. He’s gorgeous,” I said.

The smile on Ethan’s face faded, but he said nothing.

His mistress, Chloe, instinctively tightened her grip on his arm.

“Claire has finally come around. We should be happy for her, shouldn’t we?”

“Of course.”

He crushed out his cigar, walked over to Julian, and spoke in a teasing, frivolous tone.

“Take good care of her tonight.”

Then he wrapped an arm around Chloe and took her upstairs.

I looked at Julian.

The tips of his ears were slightly red, and the lines of muscle beneath his sleeves were beautifully defined.

“Are you staying in your dorm tonight, or here?”

“Either is fine.”

“Then stay with me.”

I turned toward the hallway.

Behind me, the servants quickly lowered their voices and began whispering.

“She’s obviously just putting on a show for Ethan.”

“The last time Ethan brought home that football player, she had security throw him out.”

“Don’t worry. Claire is hopelessly devoted to Ethan. She’d rather die alone than touch one of Ethan’s hired playthings.”

Their words pricked my spine like needles.

They weren’t wrong.

I had once been too proud, too convinced that my loyalty could preserve something.

I had driven away every man Ethan brought home, believing that at least I was cleaner than he was.

And what had that gotten me?

Ethan’s mistress was pregnant and flaunting it in my face.

What had my pride protected?

A divorce agreement?

An empty marriage bed?

Or a house full of people waiting to laugh at me?

I opened the second-floor guest room.

“We’re here.”

Julian stood in the shadowed hallway, his tall frame half-swallowed by the darkness.

I stumbled.

A strong arm caught me.

“Careful.”

I caught the faint scent of mint on him.

His hot breath brushed my neck. My back pressed against the heated chest beneath his shirt—and against the hard, rapid beat of his heart.

He was nervous.

This time, Ethan really had spared no expense.

Julian Hart, a former college hockey star, a scholarship student at Columbia Law School, and already holding an offer from a top firm after graduation.

He wasn’t some male model Ethan had picked up from a bar, but his face and body were better than any model’s.

His handsome features were clean-cut and still carried a trace of youthful innocence.

“Did you really come for the money?”

“Yes.”

His answer was immediate. He didn’t try to defend himself.

The old me would have laughed coldly, asked how much he wanted, and paid him to leave.

Back then, I had stood on moral high ground as though one touch from him would contaminate me.

Yet all the people I had called “unclean” had left.

Ethan never came back.

Looking at it now, which of them had ever been dirtier than my husband?

“Tell the housekeeper if you need anything.”

I turned and walked farther into the room.

He followed me inside.

“My name is Julian,” he said quietly.

“I know. Ethan told me.”

“I mean…” Julian added softly, “you can do anything you want with me.”

I looked at him for a moment, then nodded.

“All right. Go shower first.”

When I returned to the master bedroom, the divorce agreement Ethan had prepared was sitting on the nightstand.

For the past three years, I had turned a blind eye to Ethan’s absurd behavior.

Only because something had happened between us three years ago, leaving a rift neither of us knew how to cross.

He had his reasons.

I had mine.

At first, I told him that as long as he didn’t bring those women home, I could tolerate it.

Later, I said as long as he didn’t get one of them pregnant, I could still let it go.

I yielded step by step.

He pushed step by step.

Now, perhaps we were both tired of the marriage.

There was nothing left to hesitate over.

I picked up a pen and signed my name.

At that exact moment, the bathroom door opened.

Julian stepped out in a white shirt, the ends of his dark-brown hair still damp.

The moment he saw me, the tips of his ears turned red again.

I looked him over.

“Don’t be so shy. Didn’t you say I could do anything I wanted with you?”

“Yes.”

“Then take off your clothes. Come to my room.”