ZARIA POV 

I knew something was wrong the moment he touched me.

But I didn’t stop.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The car smelled like leather and something sharper underneath. My pulse hammered in my ears as I moved against him in the back seat, the city lights outside dim through the tinted windows.

His hands gripped my hips—firm, almost bruising—and pulled me down harder against him.

This is it. This is the moment.

Weeks of planning. Watching Ethan’s schedule. Slipping the sedative into the right bottle. Every step had led here.

I couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark.

“You’re… different tonight,” I whispered, my voice low, husky. I leaned down, lips brushing his ear. “But I don’t care.”

A low sound left him—rough, almost unfamiliar—and his grip tightened.

For a second, something in my chest shifted.

I ignored it.

Everything felt off when you were drugged. That was all.

Focus, Zaria. This has to work.

I kissed him before the thought could settle, hard and insistent. His response was immediate—hungry in a way that sent heat rushing through me. My fingers slid into his hair, tangling in strands that felt thicker than I remembered.

I didn’t stop.

“Tell me you want this,” I breathed against his lips, rolling my hips slowly. I needed to hear it. Needed confirmation that this cold, suffocating marriage was finally giving me something in return—freedom.

A rough chuckle escaped him, deep and edged with something I didn’t recognize. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for something like this.”

His voice. It sounded… richer. Lower. Not quite right. My heart stuttered—but I moved again, chasing the plan, chasing the end of everything that had trapped me here. “Then stop talking and fuck me like you mean it.”

His hands slid up my back, pulling me closer. One palm pressed between my shoulder blades while the other gripped my thigh. 

The way he touched me wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t distant.

It was possessive. I shivered, telling myself it was just nerves. Just the adrenaline of finally doing what I had to do.

Clothes were shoved aside in frantic movements. When he pushed inside me, slow and deep, a broken sound left my throat. God. It felt… too good. Too intense. My nails dug into his shoulders as I moved with him, the leather creaking beneath us. Every thrust sent sparks up my spine. I buried my face in his neck, inhaling that unfamiliar scent, letting it blur everything.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he murmured, voice strained, lips brushing my forehead.

I moaned, the words hitting somewhere deep I didn’t want to examine. Ethan never talked like that. Never sounded like he was losing control. But the drug… the drug changed things. Made people say things they wouldn’t. Made them feel things they—

His teeth grazed my shoulder, and I gasped, my body clenching around him. Pleasure coiled tight, dangerous. I rode him harder, chasing release, chasing the end of this nightmare marriage. My mind kept filing away details I didn’t want: the scar I felt under my fingers on his side, smooth and old. The way his breathing hitched when I whispered his name—or tried to. The way he seemed to know exactly how to touch me, like he’d studied my body in dreams.

Stop it. It’s him. It has to be him.

“Come on,” I gasped, my voice cracking. “Don’t hold back. I need this.”

He flipped us suddenly, pinning me beneath him on the wide seat. The new angle pulled a sharp cry from me. His weight was heavier, his frame broader. I wrapped my legs around him anyway, nails raking down his back. Our bodies moved together in a rhythm that felt too natural, too consuming. Sweat slicked our skin. He kissed me again, hard, like he couldn't get enough

For one terrifying moment, it didn’t feel like a transaction. It felt like surrender.

I came first, hard, vision whitening out as waves crashed through me. He followed with a guttural groan, burying himself deep, body shuddering against mine. We stayed locked like that, breathing ragged, the car filled with the scent of sex and expensive leather.

I felt the exhaustion slam into me all at once. My limbs felt heavy, useless. The plan had worked. I’d done it. Relief mixed with something sharper I couldn’t name. I let my eyes drift shut, cheek pressed to his chest, listening to a heartbeat that sounded steadier than it should.

Just rest. Morning will come. You’ll slip away before he wakes. Everything will be fine.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Morning light came through the tinted windows, way too bright for how I felt.

I stirred, my body aching in the best and worst ways. Naked. Wrapped in strong arms. The scent from last night still clung to my skin. I shifted carefully, trying not to wake him, and turned my head.

My eyes landed on his face.

Time stopped.

Dark hair. Sharp jawline. A face I had never seen before in my life. Strong brows, full lips slightly parted in sleep. Cool grey-brown eyes that were still closed, but I knew—somehow I already knew—they would see straight through me when they opened.

This was not Ethan Voss.

My breath froze in my lungs. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard it hurt. Every detail from the night before rushed back all at once: the wrong hands, the wrong scent, the wrong voice, the scar, the way he held me like I belonged to him.

Who the hell is this man?

My mind went completely blank for one terrifying second. Then one thought sliced through the silence, quiet, clear, and absolutely devastating.

Who did I just sleep with?