Chloe
I didn’t know what pissed me off more, her between his legs or the way he looked at me so unfazed, as if he was doing nothing wrong.
My chest constricted, my stomach dropping so fast it felt like I was falling. My heart cracked open, splintering into pieces.
Why did it hurt like this? Why did it feel like I couldn’t breathe and the ground was slowly vanishing beneath me?
Now, it made sense why Ivar had let me in so easily. He’d known what I’d find.
“We’re done here,” Zane said, his voice sudden and detached. He wasn’t even talking to me but his voice hit me like a slap anyway.
Arianna stood slowly, balancing herself on Zane’s thigh before she got up completely. She locked eyes with him for a moment—too long—then turned, walking past me with a smirk. Casually wiping the corner of her mouth as if erasing the evidence.
The thought alone made me nauseous.
My eyes snapped back to Zane, searching for something… guilt, regret, anything that would make this hurt less. But he just stared. Neither of us spoke but I hoped he would.
The silence stretched, and with it, every good feeling I’d started to have about him shattered, leaving me suddenly empty, all the colors gone again.
Fighting back the burn of tears, I turned and stormed out, shoving past Arianna and avoiding any victorious smile from Ivar I bet he had. I bolted upstairs, nearly crashing into Clarisse.
“Chloe?” she asked, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the tear slipping down my cheek. “What happened?”
Not stopping, I rushed past her and slammed my bedroom door.
Stripping down quickly, I stepped into the shower.
The water hit me hard and hot but didn’t wash away the ache in my chest.
It wasn’t that I felt dirty. No, it was the gut wrenching pain slicing my chest open that I needed to make stop. I needed to wash that away.
I didn’t know why I was so surprised to find him with another woman. He was who he was and I… I was just wrong.
I wasn’t special to him, never would be.
I was just another Arianna in his bed, a temporary distraction. How stupid was I to think things had been changing?
I didn’t hear him come in, but suddenly, he was there, stepping into the shower fully clothed. He didn’t seem to care if the water could reach his clothes or if it was splashing his boots. He was just there, watching me, as if he had the right to.
I hated him. I hated his arrogance, his cold detachment, his ruthless nature. But more than that… I hated that I still wanted him to care about me.
“Chloe, I—”
“Please, just go.” I cut him off, my voice shaking.
“Chloe—” he repeated, but I was past listening.
Something in me snapped and I lunged at him, fists flying.
I didn’t care how ridiculous I must have looked charging at him completely naked.
“Get out! Get out! Get out!”
I screamed, though I wasn’t even sure if the words were coming out or just echoing in my head. But my entire body was screaming, shrieking with every punch I swung at him, every hit I landing on his chest.
He didn’t move, didn’t try to stop me.
He just stood there, taking in my anger, my pain.
I didn’t want his explanations. I didn’t want his excuses. I just wanted someone to feel even a fraction of what I was feeling. All I wanted was to be free of this ache, this endless cycle of hurt and disappointment.
After a lifetime of being pushed around, used, abused, lied to, tricked, I was fucking tired. Tired of trusting people, tired of hoping for the good that never seemed to come.
Not for me anyway.
Each hit land weaker than the last, sobs were taking over my body, making it impossible to breathe.
My knees buckled, and before I could collapse, Zane caught me, his arms tightening around me, pinning my arms down to stop me hitting him again.
He pushed me under the shower stream with him, holding me still as the water turned ice-cold and I instinctively pressed into his chest, seeking his warmth and too tired to care.
“You’re having a panic attack. I need you to breathe, Chloe.”
His voice sounded distant but the steady thump of his heart against my ear slowly grounded me, slowly pulled me back as if returning me to my own body.
Too exhausted to keep fighting, I let myself cry into his chest, breaking in front of a man for the first time and letting him see me raw and wrecked.
And he held me like he wasn’t planning to let go.
Despite everything—the betrayal, the pain, the anger—some part of me knew that whenever my legs threatened to fail me, Zane wouldn’t let me fall.
The water turned warm again, the tension in my chest starting to dissipate. Noticing how my fingers were tangled in his now-transparent shirt, clutching it like it was the only thing keeping me steady.
I looked up, meeting his gaze.
The water should have hit my face, but his head hovered over mine, shielding me from it. I wanted to scream at him until he disappeared but something in his eyes held me still.
He tilted my chin up gently, pressing his lips into mine, soft and lingering. I didn’t kiss him back, but I didn’t pull away either. Because I needed it. I needed him. As awful as it sounded, the type of comfort he was giving me was the only thing I had.
“It wasn’t what you think,” he whispered against my lips. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”
I didn’t believe him. I doubted he would’ve turned her down if I hadn’t walked in. But some foolish, desperate part of me wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want her as much as he wanted me.
His lips hovered over mine a moment longer, his breath mingling with mine, waiting for me to say or do something, anything. But I remained silent. The knot in my chest was so tight, it trapped the words in before they could find their way out.
He pulled back, peeling off his soaked clothes until he was down to his boxers.
I watched, too drained to react.
He turned off the water and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around me before picking me up, not caring if we dripped everything with water along our way.
He laid me on the bed, tucking me in gently, his touch surprisingly tender and I think I fell asleep instantly, because after that, there was nothing.