VANESSA BELMONT
My enthusiasm deflated like a punctured balloon. Everything we'd just shared—the heat of his touch, the possessive gleam in his eyes—meant diddly squat. Here I was, being naive again, mistaking Nate's lust for a crack in his stone heart. Stupid, Vanessa. When will you learn?
My chest ached as if an invisible hand had reached inside and squeezed. Hard.
"It's lovely," I said, forcing a smile. "I'm sure Fiona will adore it."
His jaw tightened. "I didn't buy it for her."
He snapped the box shut and set it beside him on the bed before standing abruptly. In one swift motion, he yanked me to my feet, his fingers digging into my waist. The next thing I knew, he was unzipping my dress, the sound sharp in the quiet room. The fabric slithered down my body, pooling at my feet.
He sucked in a breath.
I had to admit, his reaction was gratifying.
When I'd replaced my wardrobe, I hadn't skimped on the lingerie. Tonight, I wore a dark red silk and black lace corset that cinched my waist, emphasizing every curve. The matching thong was barely there, and the black lace garter belt clung to my hips, its delicate straps securing sheer stockings that ran the length of my legs.
Nate's gaze darkened. "Jesus. You were wearing this the whole night?" His voice was rough, edged with a tone that buzzed through my body. "I want to kill Carver Haynes twice as much now."
He took my hand, steadying me as I stepped out of my dress, then scooped up the jewelry box and led me to the bathroom. Positioning me in front of the mirror, he draped the necklace around my throat, his fingers brushing my skin as he fastened the clasp. The intricate pattern of diamonds and rubies shimmered against my skin, the centerpiece—a fat, blood-red ruby—nestled in the hollow of my collarbone.
It was stunning.
Nate tapped the ruby, his touch lingering. "It reminded me of cherries." His voice dropped lower. "And of you."
I swallowed. "You truly bought it for me?"
"Yes." His hand slid down, caressing the curve of my waist before settling on my hip. His fingers fanned over the exposed strip of skin between my corset and garter belt, sending a shiver through me. "A pretty woman deserves pretty things."
I rolled my eyes. "Lame." I met his gaze in the mirror. "Try again."
He smirked, then leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. "What about… you're gorgeous." His teeth nipped at my lobe. "And you're mine."
Oh, how I wanted to believe him. But reality was a cruel bitch.
Because you know who else belonged to him?
Fiona.
There was no way in hell she'd let him spend the night. Not after witnessing his public claim on me. She would find a way to interfere—a conveniently timed panic attack, a fabricated emergency—and Nate would drop everything to rush to her side. Because despite his current fascination with the new Vanessa, Fiona was his white moonlight. His untouchable ideal. The damsel who always needed saving.
And I? I was a name on a marriage contract.
His phone rang.
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he pulled it from his pocket. One glance at the screen and his entire demeanor shifted. He answered immediately. "You vomited blood?" His voice was tight. "Where are you? The same emergency room as before? Okay. I'll be right there."
He hung up and looked at me, already straightening his clothes. "Fiona's—"
"I know." My voice was flat.
"Vanessa, I want to stay."
"Oh?" I arched a brow. "Then stay."
His expression twisted. "She doesn't have anyone else."
I exhaled sharply. Here we go again.
I had been given a second chance at life, and yet, like a fool, I kept walking the same path—straight into Nate's arms. My love would never be enough. I would never be more important than Fiona. But this time, I knew where that road led. To a cold grave.
"I'm not going to be a third party in my own marriage," I said, stepping back. "I won't sleep with a man who loves somebody else."
His eyes flashed. "You won't sleep with anyone except me."
I laughed, the sound hollow. "Sorry, Nate. You don't get a vote. Especially when you're rushing off to take care of another woman." I crossed my arms. "You've made your choice."
He opened his mouth—probably to argue, to feed me more empty promises—but his phone rang again. Fiona. Of course.
I didn't wait for him to speak. "Go. She needs you, right? More than I do."
His jaw clenched. "You didn't eat enough tonight. Order room service." He grabbed his jacket. "I'll be back later."
I smiled bitterly. "No, you won't."
He shot me a frustrated look before striding out, the door slamming behind him.The moment Nate left, the room felt colder, emptier—like all the warmth had been sucked out with him.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at my reflection. The necklace still glimmered, a cruel mockery of Nate's affection. With trembling fingers, I unclasped it and set it on the counter.
I got dressed and called Malone. I asked him to take care of securing the necklaces and to arrange a ride home for me. Within the hour, I was back at the Belmont mansion.
***|***|***|***|***
VANESSA BELMONT
Henry greeted me with a slow blink from my bed, his tail flicking.
"Love stinks," I muttered, sinking onto the mattress.
He lifted a leg and licked his butthole.
Huh. I guess he thought so, too.
After a shower hot enough to burn away the memory of Nate's hands, I slid into bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin. Henry curled against my side, his purrs a quiet comfort.
But sleep didn't come.
Instead, my mind replayed the night—the way Nate's eyes darkened with hunger, the way he'd whispered "You're mine" like it was a vow.
And then ... he'd chosen her.
Again.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I looked at the screen and saw a text from my not-so-significant-other.
Nathan Jang: You still awake?
Vanessa: No, I'm asleep. Right now. In fact, I'm not even typing this text.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then—
Nathan Jang: Let's break up.