2. A LOVER'S FALL

Michael’s POV

This was the first time I disagreed with Ryan. Damn, such a pathological liar, it is very embarrassing.

Ryan was many things. He was reckless, brilliant, infuriating, and sometimes calm.

But a liar? I doubt it until this call.

I stare blankly into space, pressing the phone tightly against my ear. I clench my fist so much that my fingers sink into my palm.

“You must think I’m a baby to believe such,” I murmur gloomily.

“Say it again,” I mutter.

Ryan’s voice roars through the phone, and I can feel his frustration and anguish, but his words are too hard to swallow. “I said, I didn’t do it.”

I exhale deeply, running a hand through my messy hair. “They have evidence, Ryan. Glaring evidence.”

“Those… those are fabricated.”

“What about the witnesses? What about the videos? What do you want me to believe?” I bark in frustration.

“They paid witnesses, manipulated those videos. I... I didn’t do it!!!”

This time his voice is loud and sharp. “Why… why… why the hell are you sounding like them, talking like… like… like my lawyer, Michael? You of all people should believe me!!!”

This time I just continue to breathe in silence. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know who to believe.

“Why would anyone want to frame you? Who did you offend? What does a lowly structural engineer have to do with killing a governor’s brother?”

“Language, Michael! The security are in… in… in on this call. You can’t keep making such useless accusations.”

“But you aren’t giving me anything reasonable to hold on to. You know what? Just forget about it.”

“Mike, see…” His voice drops to a softer tone. “There are things I can’t say over the phone.”

“Yeah, that’s it…” I am fed up at this point. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“See, Michael, listen—”

I cut him mid-sentence. “No, you listen. I’ve stood by you, followed up with lawyers, tried to solve this puzzle, appealed for a lighter sentence, defended you!”

“And now you are done?” He speaks the words before I do.

“No. I need something,” I roar back.

For a minute, the awkward silence lingers.

“It’s fine,” he finally says, and cuts the call immediately.

For a long time, I stare at the phone in utter awe, my reflection clearly staring back at me. Now the sea in my mind is further troubled, and my soul is unsettled.

“Was Ryan really telling the truth?” That, I cannot fathom.

I jump to my feet immediately. I need to take a walk, to ease some steam.

.............

The bar reeks of cheap liquor and bad decisions. Just the casual environment I need to get away.

My mind replays the call over and over again.

The waiter pours me a glass of whiskey. I stare at the cup as every ounce of will and appetite evades me like steam.

The call lingers in my mind, the hesitation, the silence, the truth he claims, and the desperation in his voice.

“Trouble in paradise?” a voice interrupts me, bringing me back to reality.

“Not really.”

“You look like a man at war with himself.” The voice is smooth. It exudes confidence and danger.

I turn slightly and see him. His eyes are brown and appealing, his voice deep and comforting.

He leans against the counter beside me and stares deeply, as if he can see through my soul. He is tall, dark, and handsome, cheerful in a way that feels dangerous.

“Girlfriend trouble?” he asks.

“No.”

“Boyfriend trouble?”

I stare at him in amusement. Somewhere between his words, I sense a subtle chemistry, that dangerous connection that makes me want to pounce on him and devour him.

“Relax,” he says, raising his hands lightly. “I’m not judging. I’m just observing.”

As much as he is fascinating to look at, a man who could spice up my night, a quick fix to take away my sorrows, I temporarily ignore him. I just want to be wasted.

I take a long sip of the liquor, letting the liquid burn in my chest.

But this guy’s look is so intense. “You always this nosy?”

“Only when it piques my interest,” he answers, smiling slightly.

“You are barely taking your drink, and you seem so bored. Maybe I could help you fix that.” He leans in, biting his lips, his hand sliding to massage my thigh sensually.

Damn. My groin aches in pain and pleasure as my full length responds uncontrollably, making me gasp awkwardly.

He senses my internal struggle and pulls closer, whispering hot breath against my neck and ears. His cologne is intoxicating. I wish I didn’t respond, but now I am totally lost in his charm.

“I’ll help you get away,” he murmurs. “I’d say you’re very interesting.”

I gulp a full cup of raw liquor and swallow another, while he simply sips his drink, staring at me lustfully.

“The more you take it in, the more the pain lingers, until you’ve lost your soul completely,” he shrugs.

I should have walked away, but instead, I find myself asking, “What makes you think you can read me?”

“Come with me, darling, and you’ll find out,” he chuckles softly.

“Names?” he asks.

I hesitate for a second, then shoot a smile. “Michael.”

“Ethan.”

We shake hands, and damn, his palm is so soft and warm. The handshake lingers, and my full length becomes hard instantly, yearning for pleasure.

I tighten my grip on the cup as I moan silently. He notices my internal struggle and just smiles.

..............

The apartment isn’t mine, it is his. His room glows with fluorescent lighting and sinful pleasures.

I don’t even know how I got here. I realize my surroundings somewhere between the second drink and the third.

The lights are dim, the air thick, and the sensual tension in the room is glaring.

“How did I get here?” I ask in confusion.

“Don’t play dumb with me, baby,” he replies, studying me like an open book.

“You’re still thinking about him,” he says quietly.

I clench my fist. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he asks, stepping closer.

“Don’t point it out… Mmm—”

Before I can complete the sentence, he invades me with a hot french kiss, wet, sloppy and overwhelming. His lips are soft, sending a jolt through me, temporarily paralyzing me, but he doesn’t stop. His fresh breath, mixed with mint, and his warm tongue send chills through my body. For a moment, I forget the sacred vows I once shared with Ryan Carter.

“I need you to forget about him, Mike. I need you to relax,” he whispers into my ears, sending tingling sensations down my spine.

Here I am, trying to devour a total stranger while Ryan rots in prison. The guilt hits me like a storm.

But the more guilty I feel, the more the arousal heightens. Before I can react, his tongue ravages my mouth again.

“You don’t trust him anymore,” Ethan continues, his tone softer now, almost coaxing. “That’s what’s really bothering you.”

I shake my head. “You don’t know anything. Stop!” I push him hard. But his stance remains firm.

“I know enough.” He reaches up, his fingers brushing my lips.

“You’re angry,” he murmurs. “Not just at him, but at yourself. You feel guilty that this is even happening. You feel sorry for doubting him.”

“Stop,” I say again, weaker this time. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“That’s what’s really bothering you.”

I shake my head. “You don’t know anything. Stop!” I push him hard.

But his stamina is surprisingly firm. “I know enough.” He reaches up, his fingers brushing my lips.

“You’re angry,” he murmurs. “Not just at him… but at yourself, you feel guilty that this is even happening, you feel sorry for doubting him.”

“Stop,” I said again, weaker this time. "What the hell do you want freom me"

But his hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. "I want you to fuck me". 

This time he was firm. His hands reaches for my full lenth as he climbs on to me.

He rides me vigorously with all sense of danger.

His dirty talks and random hickeys, makes my experience overwhelming and unforgettable.

After the first round of forbidden pleasure, my lips are swollen, my breath uneven. “What the hell did you just do?” I whisper under my breath.

The question hangs there, unanswered. “I need to use the bathroom.”

I turn on the tap, splashing cold water on my face, trying to wash my sins away.

The guilt, the weight, the consequences of my actions press heavily on my shoulders.

...................

Pieces of Ryan’s face keep flashing hazily before my eyes.

I scrub my skin vigorously until I can feel real pain. Sweat mixes with streaks of blood along my thighs and sensitive skin.

I grab the edge of the sink as I mourn in silence. I was never supposed to do this.

Then I hear a gunshot.

My heart freezes instantly, followed by muffled angry voices… then an eerie silence.

“Ethan! What’s that sound? What’s going on?” I call out.

Then I see him.

Lying on the bed. Too still. Too silent to respond.

My heart pounds loudly. A wave of nausea overwhelms me.

The uncertainty hunts me like a desperate antelope pursued by a hungry lion.

Was this even real?

At first, I think he has passed out from the intensity of what we just did. But when I step closer, dread grips me completely.

He lies there on the messy bed, murdered in cold blood. A gunshot wound in the middle of his head.

The blood is still fresh, spreading across the sheets, reminding me of the danger I am in.

No. This is a hard pill to swallow, an aberration to the natural order of things. I came here to unwind, to leave negativity behind me.

“Ethan!” I scream, rushing to him, shaking his shoulders, using my fingers to search for a pulse.