Chapter 2

When Ethan texted me, Julian was sitting on the edge of my bed.

My toes rested against the hard lines of his abdomen.

He massaged my calf, his fingertips gliding over my skin like a faint electric current.

Go to bed early, Ethan wrote.

I stared at those three words and found them ridiculous.

He had never cared what time I went to sleep before.

Why remember now?

Because Julian had stayed?

Or because he had finally realized that the woman he believed would never touch anyone else might truly walk into another man’s arms?

Ethan and his mistress were staying in the guest room beside the master bedroom.

My lover was in my bed.

This villa, worth tens of millions of dollars, had become an exquisitely decorated landfill.

Anyone could live here.

I ignored Ethan’s pointless message and crooked a finger at Julian.

Julian moved over me, his lean, powerful body pressing mine into the mattress.

I heard his soft breathing against my ear. His kisses landed on my forehead, my cheek, and then my lips.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, my body rising and falling with his movements.

He moved inside me with strength, yet when he lowered his head to kiss me, he was gentle.

His deep eyes held mine.

“Claire, tell me anytime if you want me to change positions.”

My rising body heat was the only answer I gave him.

Ethan thought I was still the same Claire I had always been.

He thought I wouldn’t dare.

That I never would.

That I would preserve my so-called loyalty forever.

He was wrong.

The next morning, my lower back was still sore when I went downstairs.

Julian was in the kitchen helping the housekeeper prepare breakfast.

The moment he saw me, the spatula nearly slipped from his hand.

I smiled.

The man who had whispered, “You can do anything you want with me,” and seemed to possess endless strength last night was suddenly shy again this morning.

A moment later, Ethan came downstairs.

He sat across from me and lifted his coffee.

“You’re up early.”

He glanced at Julian, then looked at me with an amused smile.

“How was last night?”

Before I could answer, several people suddenly entered the villa.

Mason and a group of Ethan’s friends burst in.

“Ethan, who won?”

“I bet Julian wouldn’t last until breakfast. Five hundred thousand dollars.”

“I bet she threw him out last night. Three-to-one odds, with Ethan holding the book—”

Their voices cut off.

The moment they saw me, their excitement turned to embarrassment.

“Good morning, Claire.”

Ethan sipped his coffee leisurely, as though his friends betting on our marriage were something to be proud of.

“Sit down.”

Then I looked at Julian.

“You should go to class.”

Julian paused, untied the apron, picked up his coat, and left.

As soon as the door closed, Mason lowered his voice and laughed.

“See? She threw him out after all.”

Someone else said, “Ethan knew it. Claire was only putting on a show.”

“A wife should be like Claire. She knows her limits, and she knows how to protect her place.”

At those words, Ethan visibly relaxed, faint satisfaction settling over his features.

I drew a breath and stepped out of the dining room.

At the same moment, Ethan spoke.

“Come with me to dinner at the Westchester estate tonight.”

“At two this afternoon,” I said, “meet me at the law firm to sign the divorce papers.”