chapter two

Ethan

The blades slice the night open above us,like a mechanical heartbeat drowning out the storm.

Lila sits across from me in the chopper, with her legs crossed. Snow melts in her hair, dripping down the column of her throat. She hasn’t looked at me once since we lifted off the helipad.

I hate that she knows how to do this to me.

I hate that I let her.

The lace I bought her in Italy is shredded at the edges now, my bad. I can still taste her on my tongue, copper and champagne and the particular cruelty she saves just for me. My lip stings where she bit me. I lick the wound and watch her watch the city shrink beneath us.

She thinks she’s the one who started this war.

She’s wrong.

Six months ago, I stood in that lawyer’s office and watched her sign her name with a hand that didn’t shake. I told myself it was mercy. Told myself she’d be happier without the weight of my name, my money, the rot I carry in my marrow. I lied to her face about the company tanking. Liquidated eighty-two million in assets to make the numbers match the story. Watched her walk out with nothing but a duffel and the echo of my silence.

I thought distance would heal the wound.

Instead it festered.

Now she’s back, wearing my ruin like perfume.

The pilot’s voice crackles in my headset. “ETA five minutes, Mr. Grant. Storm’s thickening.”

Lila finally looks at me. Her eyes are cold and endless, ready to drown me.

“Scared?” she asks. The headset makes her voice intimate, like she’s whispering straight into my skull.

I lean forward. “Of you? Always.”

Her mouth curves into a smirk.

“Good.”

The estate looms out of the dark, a concrete beast perched on the cliff, glass walls glowing like a predator’s eyes. The pilot sets us down on the pad carved into the ground. Wind whips snow into our faces as we duck under the slowing blades. Lila doesn’t wait for me. She’s already striding toward the house, barefoot in the snow, lingerie plastered to her curves.

I follow because I always follow her, even when I pretend I don’t.

The front door recognizes my print. Inside, the heat is off because the power’s been out since the blizzard hit at noon. Lila stops in the middle, with her arms wrapped around herself, breath fogging the air.

“One bed,” she says without turning. “Your rules or mine?”

I shrug out of my tux jacket, toss it over the banister. “Mine. You don’t get to run this time.”

She laughs, low and bitter. “You think you can keep me?”

I cross the space between us in three strides. Grip her chin, tilt her face up. Her pupils are blown wide, lips parted.

“I kept the key you never returned,” I say. “I kept the ring you left on the dresser. I kept every fucking sketch you ever left in my drawers. Don’t tell me what I can keep.”

Her tongue darts out and she wets her bottom lip. “Then show me.”

I kiss her like punishment. Like confession. My hands fist in her hair, angle her head back so I can devour her throat. She tastes like salt and snow and the particular madness we make together. Her nails rake down my shirt, buttons scattering like gunfire. I back her into the living room, past the fireplace that’s nothing but cold ash.

The couch is leather, Italian, older than our marriage. I spin her, bend her over the arm, exposing the lace I tore earlier. I trace the ruined edge with my thumb.

“You wore this to torture me,” I growl against her spine.

“I wore it to remind you,” she gasps as I bite the juncture of her shoulder and neck. “Remind you what you threw away.”

She’s looks gorgeous in the lingerie,black lace bra, garter belt, stockings rolled to mid-thigh. The sight punches the air from my lungs.

“Christ, Lila.”

She glances back over her shoulder, eyes glittering. “Still know how to pray, Ethan?”

I drop to my knees. Grip her hips, pull her back until she’s arched over the couch, ass in the air. The fire may be dead, but the room is burning. I mouth her through the lace, tasting how wet she is already. She moans, thighs trembling. I rip the panties down, spread her open with my thumbs.

“Tell me to stop,” I say against her clit. “Say the word and I’ll walk away.”

She pushes back against my tongue instead. “Never.”

I eat her like a starving man,slow licks, then fast, then slow again until she’s sobbing my name into the cushions. Her fingers claw at the leather. I slide two fingers inside her, curl them, feel her clench like she’s trying to trap me there forever. I let her ride my face until she comes with a broken cry, body shaking so hard I have to hold her up.

I stand, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. She turns, eyes glassy, lips swollen.

“My turn,” she says.

She shoves me back onto the couch. Straddles me. Her hands are everywhere,unbuckling my belt, freeing me, stroking me until I’m groaning into her neck. She sinks down slow, inch by torturous inch, until I’m buried inside her and we’re both shaking.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

She rides me like she’s trying to brand herself on my soul. Nails in my shoulders, teeth in my throat. I grip her ass, guide her harder, faster. The storm rages outside, wind rattling the windows like it wants in on the destruction.

“Look at me,” I snarl.

She does. Our eyes lock. In them I see everything we lost, everything we’re about to burn down to get back.

“I hate you,” she whispers.

“I know.”

She comes again, clenching around me so tight I see stars. I follow her over, spilling inside her with her name on my tongue like a prayer I don’t deserve.

We stay like that, joined, panting. Snow taps the glass. The power flickers once, twice, then dies again.

Lila rests her forehead against mine. “Day one,” she says, voice raw. “Twenty-nine to go.”

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You think you’ll survive me?”

She smiles, sharp and beautiful. “I think you’ll beg first.”

I carry her upstairs. The bedroom is arctic, sheets like ice. I strip us both, crawl under the covers, pull her back against my chest. She’s trembling from cold. I wrap my arms around her, bury my face in her hair.

“Sleep,” I murmur.

She’s out in minutes, breath evening out. I stay awake, listening to the storm, feeling her heartbeat against my palm. My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Unknown number. I know who it is.

Text:She’s lying. She’ll destroy you again. End it.*

I delete it and block the number.

Celeste can rot.

Lila shifts in her sleep, pressing closer to me. Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining like they never learned how to let go.