Chapter 3

Jasmine’s POV

I lay on the floor long after they disappeared upstairs as I cried my heart out until my tear glands ran dry.

I thought the pain in my chest would eventually numb, but it only grew sharper with every sound that drifted down from the bedroom. The continuous thumping of the headboard and Emily’s high-pitched moans echoed through the hallways and haunted my very soul.

I couldn’t believe the same Caleb who had starved me sexually for months was happily leading another woman to ecstasy.

I covered my ears, but the sound seemed to vibrate through my very bones. Every laugh and every groan was a reminder that I was nothing more than a ghost in my own home. I was the boring placeholder and I was discarded after losing my purpose.

Thinking back to all the things I let go because of Caleb, I felt like dying. What hurt most was the child I lost in order to keep him. I did everything he ever asked for like a puppet, but he threw me to the side like I meant nothing to him.

"I cannot stay here," I whispered to myself as I staggered to my feet.

I went to the guest bathroom and splashed cold water over my red, puffy eyes. I grabbed a stash of cash I had been keeping, snatched my purse off the table, and headed out.

I did not care where I was going as long as it was away from the sound of their pleasure. I flagged down a cab and asked the driver to take me somewhere I could get a drink, and soon we pulled up in front of a club.

I paid the driver and walked inside, where the loud music immediately drowned out my heavy thoughts. I pushed through the crowd and went straight to the bar.

"Give me something strong," I told the bartender. "And keep them coming."

He gave me a doubtful look, but he filled my glass regardless. One drink turned into three, and three turned into five as the burning slide of tequila down my throat was the only thing making me feel alive. I wanted to be anything other than the pathetic, sobbing wife on the kitchen floor.

"You look like you are trying to drown a very large secret," a deep voice rumbled beside me.

I turned my head slowly. My vision was unfocused as my eyes centered on the man sitting on the stool next to mine. He was massive, with broad shoulders that seemed to block out the rest of the room, and even through my drunken haze, I could see he was breathtakingly handsome.

"I am drowning a husband," I slurred, as a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "He says I am boring and that no man would ever want me."

The stranger leaned in, with his cologne wrapping around my senses.

"Your husband sounds like a fool who does not know the value of what he owns."

"He brought another woman home," I whispered, with hot tears swelling in my eyes again. "He told me we have an open marriage now because I am too weak to do anything about it."

The stranger’s jaw tightened, with a flash of fury crossing his features before his expression softened. He gave me one long stare, before leaning even closer to me.

"Then prove him wrong," he said quietly. "If you want to win your power back and make a man like that crawl, you cannot appear powerless. You need to show some confidence, and you need to make him bleed with jealousy. As a man, I can tell you that if he saw you with someone better, someone who gives you the attention you deserve, he would regret ever letting you go."

I stared at him through my alcohol-fogged brain. He was imposing, unbelievably attractive, and in a place like this, he looked like an escort. Looking at him now, his offer made sense, and honestly, I would do whatever it took to make Caleb come back to me.

“Are you certain?”

“Totally,” he said with a nod. “Seeing him with another woman now makes you want him to come back, so imagine if the reverse was the case. He would come running back into your arms.”

"How much?" I blurted out as hope began to bloom in my heart.

The man blinked, surprised. "What?"

"How much do you charge?" I said as I reached into my purse, with my fingers fumbling over the envelope of cash. "You’re an escort, aren’t you? Be my fake boyfriend and help me get my husband back. I will pay whatever you want."

The air between us went still, and for a fraction of a second, the amusement in his eyes vanished and was replaced by an intense gaze that made my heart leap into my throat. For a moment, I thought he was backing out, but then the smile returned to his lips.

"An escort?" he rumbled. "If I take this job, cupcake, I do not come cheap."

"I have money," I insisted, with my voice cracking with alcohol and desperation. "I just need him to see me with a man like you so he can feel my pain as well.”

"Then we have a deal," he whispered. "But if we are going to make your husband bleed with jealousy, we need to lay down the rules of our little arrangement."

I tried to adjust on my stool, but because I was already drunk, I lost balance and almost fell off, before he caught me swiftly.

“You need rest,” he said, before helping me off the stool, and then he led me to a VIP section I hadn’t realized was there.

He led me up a private set of stairs into an executive section. He led me into a room and then helped me onto the couch.

"What am I doing?" I gasped as my frustration doubled. “What if this little plan of ours doesn't work out? Gosh, I am so pathetic.”

Before I could help it, hot tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Look at me, Jasmine," he commanded softly as he came to stand beside me.

I blinked through my blurry vision at him. He did not look at me with pity, nor did he look at me like the pathetic, discarded wife Caleb saw. He looked at me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

"You are not pathetic," he murmured. "Your husband is an idiot, and I will be glad to help you get him back. Once he sees us together, he is going to come crawling back.”

His words soothed me.

"You promise?"

"I promise," Ryan whispered, with his eyes boring into mine. Then, he leaned down slightly, with his expression turning sharp and dark as his gaze dropped to my lips. "So, should we start the plan now?"

I didn’t get a chance to react before he leaned down and his lips crashed on mine. 

A surge of shock hit me. My hands instantly went up to his chest, and I tried to push Ryan away but as the heat of his body pressed against mine, the alcohol clouding my brain and my suppressed emotions took control.

 The desire to feel wanted and to erase the cold rejections of my husband overtook my hesitation and so, instead of pushing him away, my fingers tangled into his shirt, and I pulled Ryan closer to deepen the kiss.

The second I pulled him in, Ryan stiffened and immediately pulled away. 

Shaken, I stared at him, with my heart hammering wildly as I gasped for air.

 "Why?" I managed to ask as confusion filled me. 

"It is obviously to make our act more convincing," Ryan replied smoothly. "If we do not show any intimacy in front of your husband, we will be exposed too easily."

I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. I had so many things to ask him but I didn’t have the courage to. 

A wave of embarrassment and anxiety washed over me, making my cheeks burn. Unable to hold his gaze, I lowered my eyes and forced my voice out. 

“What happens next?”