Chapter Ten: The Ghost of Sapphire

The grand ballroom is a dizzying swirl of gold leaf, orchestral music, and the hollow laughter of the elite. I am a vision in midnight-blue silk and family diamonds, clutching Arthur’s arm as if it’s a life raft.

"You’re the star of the evening, Zola," Arthur beams, introducing me to another senator.

But I feel a cold sweat pooling under my lace. 

On my other side, Ethan is a silent, dark sentinel. He hasn't left my side since we arrived. 

Every time a man looks at me too long, Ethan’s hand goes to the small of my back; a possessive squeeze that tells the world I am claimed, even if the world thinks it’s Arthur doing the claiming.

Then, I see him.

Standing by the bar is a man named Calder. He was a regular at The Velvet Room. A man who once offered me five figures to go home with him, an offer I took and he had rough sex with me, he wasn’t gentle at all. 

His eyes lock onto mine, widening in shock before a slow, greasy smirk spreads across his face.

He doesn't look at me as Mrs. Reynolds. He looks at me as Sapphire.

He begins to edge through the crowd, his gaze never leaving me. Arthur is busy discussing a merger, but I see Ethan’s posture shift. His eyes narrow, tracking Calder with the lethal focus of a wolf.

"I... I need to find the powder room," I whisper to Arthur, my heart hammering.

"Of course, sweetheart," Arthur says, patting my hand proudly.

I bolt toward the quiet hallway leading to the gardens, but before I can reach safety, a hand catches my elbow and jerks me into the dark of a stone alcove.

"Sapphire," Calder hisses, his breath smelling of gin. "I thought you’d vanished when I didn’t see you at Velvet anymore. I didn't realize you’d moved up to the billionaire leagues. Does the old man know his wife used to slide down a brass pole for money?"

"Please," I gasp, trying to pull away. "Leave me alone."

"Not a chance." He pins me against the stone wall, his hand sliding down to my hip. "I’ve wanted another piece of you for a long time, but then you got pretty expensive for a stripper. Heard a man paid thrice just to have you all to him. But you're going to give me what I want right here, or by tomorrow morning, Arthur Reynolds will have a very interesting video of you in his inbox. Think about it, tonight with me, or back to the gutter."

He lunges at me, his mouth reaching for my neck, his hand fumbling with the silk of my dress as he raise it up. 

I let out a choked cry, but before his lips can touch me, he is ripped away with a violence that makes my head spin.

Thud.

Calder hits the stone floor hard. Ethan is over him in a heartbeat, his fist connecting with Calder’s jaw with a sickening crack. 

Ethan doesn't stop. He drags Calder up by his collar and slams him against the wall, his eyes glowing with a terrifying, demonic rage.

"If you ever glance at her again or tell anyone about her," Ethan snarls, his voice a low, vibrating death threat, "I will make sure your body is never found. I own this city, and I own her. You are a flea, Calder. Disappear before I decide to crush you."

Calder, trembling and bleeding, scrambles away into the darkness of the gardens, not looking back.

I lean against the wall, trembling. "Ethan... thank you. I—I thought everything was over."

Ethan turns to me. The rage hasn't faded; it has redirected. He steps into my space, his chest heaving.

"You think I did that for you?" he growls, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. "I did it because you’re my property. And I don't like other men touching what’s mine."

He drags me further into the darkness of the terrace, away from the light of the ballroom.

“So I haven’t been the only one paying for your services at the velvet room?” Ethan asks angrily.

I shake my head “it’s long before I met you and it was only one night” I reply shaking

"You’re nothing but a slut, Zola," he hisses, his hand sliding down to the back of my dress. 

"A high-priced whore that every man in that room wants a piece of. You think you can just walk around in my mother’s diamonds and pretend you aren't a brat who needs to be reminded of her place?"

He spins me around, forcing me over a stone balustrade.

Smack.

The sound of his hand against my silk-covered butt is a thunderclap in the quiet garden.

I cried out in pain and pleasure

Smack. 

Smack. 

“Ethan please…please” I plead between cries but he didn’t answer me

Smack.

Smack.

He spanks me with a brutal, rhythmic anger, each blow a reminder of my shame. I sob hard into my hands, the diamonds at my neck mocking me as he hit me until my skin burns beneath the blue silk.

"Say it," he commands, his voice thick with a dark, obsessive lust. "Tell me you're a slut who belongs to me."

"I’m your slut," I sob, the words torn from my lungs. "I'm yours, Ethan!"

He doesn't wait for the echoes of my confession to die. He hikes up the expensive silk, the cool night air hitting my flushed, stinging skin before he thrusts into me with a raw, bruising force. It isn't an act of passion; it's a declaration of war. He takes me there, rough and unrelenting, the cold marble of the balustrade biting into my palms.

Just yards away, the orchestra plays a waltz for my husband, while here, in the shadows, the son is claiming the debt in blood and fire.

He doesn’t pull away immediately. He leans his heavy frame against my back, pinning me to the stone. His hand, still rough and dominant, moves from my hip to the nape of my neck, fisting my hair and yanking my head back until I’m forced to stare at the uncaring moon.

"Listen to me carefully, Sapphire," he growls, his breath a hot, lethal ghost against my ear. "If another man touches you - if you so much as smile at a stranger or let my father into your bed - I will consider it a bad debt. And when I collect, I won't be as 'gentle' as I was tonight."

He leans in closer, his lips grazing my jawline.

"I will spank you until you can't walk, Zola. I will mark you so thoroughly that you’ll have to stay locked in your room for a week just to hide the evidence. Do you understand me?"

I look at the bright silhouette of the mansion, where Arthur is likely looking for me, and then back at the monster holding me captive in the darkness. 

I know he isn't exaggerating. I’ve seen the violence he’s capable of; I’ve felt the weight of his "tax."

"Yes," I whisper, a single tear escaping and tracking down my cheek. "I understand."

"Good."

He releases me abruptly, the loss of his heat making the night feel ten degrees colder. He reaches out, casually smoothing the rumpled silk of my dress as if he hadn't just claimed me like an animal. 

He adjusts the family diamonds at my throat, his touch lingering on the emeralds.

"Fix your face," he commands, stepping back into the building. "My father is waiting for his wife. Try to look like a saint again, Sapphire. I’ll be watching from the corners."

I stand there, trembling, smoothing my skirts with numb fingers. I know the rules now. My body is a battlefield, and Ethan Reynolds has just declared war on anyone who dares to cross the line - even the man whose name we both carry for two very different reasons.