7

Ethan was already on his phone when I opened my mouth.

He sat on the sofa like a man who had never once in his entire life been cornered by a situation. His long legs were stretched out in front of him. His thumb scrolled lazily across the screen. He didn't even look up.

"Mr. Blackwell." I pushed the covers off and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The room tilted slightly but I grabbed the nightstand and held myself steady. "Please reconsider."

His thumb stopped moving. His dark eyes lifted to mine. "Are you feeling unwell anywhere?"

"No." I stood up. My temple throbbed where it had hit the bar but I wasn't about to show him that. "Where is Sophie? Is she okay?"

"The Nguyen family collected her an hour ago." He slid his phone into his jacket pocket and stood up from the sofa in one smooth motion. His height filled the room immediately. "She's fine. Rest well, Vivian."

He moved toward the door.

I got there first.

My back hit the wood and my hands pressed flat against it behind me. My heart was pounding but I kept my chin up and my eyes locked on his. He stopped two feet away from me. His jaw tightened. A muscle moved under the skin of his cheek.

"Please." My voice was steady even though my insides were shaking. "Just hear me out. One conversation. That's all I'm asking."

"There's nothing to reconsider." His voice was flat and final. "I was never considering it."

"You haven't even thought about it."

"I don't need to think about it." He took one step closer. The air between us got thin. "I don't need a marriage partner, Vivian. I don't need a temporary wife. I don't need whatever arrangement you're trying to sell me." His dark eyes held mine without blinking. "Look elsewhere."

He reached past me. His hand closed around the door handle. I could feel the heat of his arm near my shoulder. I could smell that cedar and smoke scent that made my stomach clench tight.

I moved aside. He opened the door. He walked through it without looking back. The door clicked shut and the sound echoed in the expensive, empty room like a full stop at the end of a sentence.

I stood there for a long time. Then I laughed. It came out ugly and bitter and sharp. The laugh of a woman who had just confirmed exactly what she already suspected deep down in her gut.

I had thought Ethan was different from Derek. Different from the men who used you up and walked away when you needed them. Turns out the only difference was the sophistication of his methods. Derek was cheap whiskey. Ethan was top shelf. But they both left the same hangover.

I picked up my jacket from the nightstand. I put on my shoes. I called a cab and went home.

Monday came the way Mondays always do. Completely indifferent to everything that happened before it.

I went to work. I smiled at the front desk. I sat at my computer. I answered emails. I did all the normal things a normal person does on a normal Monday while my mother was dying in a hospital bed across town and a man I had begged to marry me had shut the door in my face.

After work I went straight to the hospital. I sat with my mother for two hours. She was awake this time. She asked me about Derek again. I told her everything was fine again. She held my hand with her thin fingers and told me I looked tired and I told her I was sleeping great.

Every visit to her now carried a quiet understanding that sat in my chest like a stone. Any of these visits could be the last one. Any goodbye could be the real goodbye. So I held her hand a little longer each time. I fixed her blanket a little more carefully. I memorized the lines of her face when she fell asleep.

Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Each day was the same. Work. Hospital. Home. Stare at the ceiling. Try to sleep. Fail. Repeat.

Friday brought cramps that twisted my lower stomach into knots. I sat in the gynecology clinic waiting room with my arms crossed over my belly and my jaw clenched tight. The fluorescent lights hummed above me. The waiting room smelled like disinfectant and anxiety.

The doctor gave me a prescription and told me to rest. I walked out of the examination room, turned the corner toward the elevator, and stopped dead.

Ethan Blackwell was standing in the hallway outside the gynecology clinic.

He looked entirely wrong for the setting. Like a wolf standing in the middle of a petting zoo. He was wearing a dark suit that probably cost more than most people's cars. His presence bent the atmosphere of the entire floor. Two nurses at the reception desk were whispering to each other, their eyes wide, stealing glances at him every three seconds.

"Do you think that's his wife in there?" one of them whispered.

"A man like that has to be worth billions," the other one whispered back. "Look at that watch."

I walked past him without looking at him. My heels clicked on the tile floor. I pressed the elevator button and stared straight ahead at the metal doors. My reflection stared back at me, pale and tired and done.

The elevator arrived. I stepped inside. I pressed the lobby button.

The doors started to close. A large hand stopped them.

Ethan stepped in. The small metal box lost most of its air immediately. His shoulders took up too much space. His presence pushed against the walls. I could feel the heat rolling off his body even though he was standing two feet away.

He moved closer. I stepped back. He moved again. My shoulders hit the elevator wall. He stood right in front of me, blocking everything, his dark eyes looking down at my face with that terrifying intensity.

"Are you feeling unwell?" His voice was low and close enough that I felt the words more than I heard them.

"No." I kept my eyes forward. Fixed on the buttons over his shoulder.

"Vivian." The way he said my name made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "I have very little patience."

My heart was beating so fast I could feel it in my throat. The cramps in my stomach twisted harder. I looked up at him. His jaw was set. His eyes were dark and impossible to read.

"Marry me," I said one more time. My voice didn't shake. My eyes didn't waver. "One year. The dowry clears and I'm gone. You'll never hear from me again."

His face didn't change by a single degree. "I don't have time to play games."

The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.

I walked out without looking back. My spine was straight. My face gave nothing away. Inside my chest everything was burning but on the outside I was ice. I had begged this man three times now. There would not be a fourth.

The lobby was bright and busy. People moved in every direction. I was heading for the exit when a familiar voice called my name.

"Vivian?" Nathan Reid was walking toward me from the far side of the lobby. Easy and unhurried, his hands in his pockets, a warm smile already on his face. He changed direction the moment he spotted me. "I thought that was you. How's your family doing? Your mother?"

"She's stable for now." I managed a small, tired smile. "Thank you for asking."

"Have you eaten today?" He tilted his head, studying my face with those kind, steady eyes. "You look like you skipped lunch. And probably breakfast. Let me take you to dinner."

I thought about the night he drove me to the hospital without a single unnecessary question. The tissue paper from the glove box. The silence he gave me when I needed it. Some people show you who they are by what they say. Nathan showed me by what he didn't.

"I'll treat you," I told him. "You earned it the other night."

His eyebrows went up. "A woman who insists on paying? Now I'm definitely coming."

I laughed. A real one this time. Small and tired but real.

We walked toward the lobby doors together. Nathan held the door open and I stepped through into the evening air.

Behind us, the elevator doors slid open. Ethan stepped out into the lobby. His dark eyes found us immediately, tracked us across the marble floor, watched us walk through the glass doors and disappear into the city.

He didn't follow.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His thumb found Nathan's number. He pressed call.