Chapter 25 — The Hourglass #2
The words hung in the warm night air, unwanted, ugly, true.
Ethan went still. The hand holding the wine glass didn’t tremble, but his knuckles went white.
“I know when the contract ends, Maya. I can count days.”
“Then why are you talking about a trip in the second week?” she asked, anguish tightening in her chest. “I shouldn’t be here in the second week. I should be…”
She stopped. Where should she be? Back in Ohio? In a cheap Vegas apartment looking for a waitressing job?
“You should be where?” Ethan asked, his voice dropping dangerously low. “Away from me? Is that what you want? Are you counting down the days until you can slip the collar?”
“No!” she protested. “That’s not it. It’s just… you talk like it’s a given. Like I’m just going to stay here, automatically.”
“And why wouldn’t you?” he shot back, standing up.
The chair scraped against the stone floor.
He walked to the balcony railing, turning his back to her.
“I’ve given you everything. I’ve given you a life you could never have on your own.
We have… this. Whatever this is. And you want to throw it all away because of a date on a piece of paper? ”
“It’s not a piece of paper!” Maya stood up too. “It’s the definition of our relationship, Ethan! That’s how it started. A purchase. A rental. If the term ends and I just stay here without… without a new definition… what am I?”
She walked over to him, stopping a few feet away.
“Am I your girlfriend? Am I your mistress? Or am I just property you forgot to return and decided to keep in stock?”
Ethan spun around.
“You know what you are!” he exploded. “You’re the only person I let in. You’re the only person who sleeps in my bed. Do you need a label? Do you need me to write ‘girlfriend’ on a name tag for you to feel validated?”
“I need to know if I’m free to choose!” Maya shouted, tears of frustration burning her eyes. “Don’t you understand? As long as that contract exists, or as long as its shadow exists, I’m not choosing you, Ethan. I’m serving a sentence!”
“I paid the debt!” he roared. “There is no sentence! You’re free to leave anytime!”
“Liar!” she shouted back. “You locked up my clothes. You broke my phone. You watch me through cameras. Is that freedom to you?”
Ethan ran his hands over his face, exasperated.
“That was security. That was necessary.”
“That was fear,” she corrected, lowering her voice. “You’re afraid that if the door is open, I’ll walk out.”
Ethan looked at her. The anger drained from his face, leaving only raw desolation.
“Yes,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “I am.”
The confession disarmed her.
“Then ask me to stay,” she said, taking a step toward him. “Don’t assume I’ll stay. Don’t plan trips like I’m part of the luggage. Ask me. Ask me what I want to do on the first.”
Ethan looked at her. He seemed to be fighting against every self-preservation instinct he’d built over thirty years. Asking was vulnerability. Asking was giving her the power to say no. And Ethan Vance didn’t give power to anyone.
“What happens on the first, Maya?” he asked, but it wasn’t a request. It was a challenge. His voice hardened again, the wall going up. “Do you pack your bags? Do you grab those cheap jeans of yours and go back to the real world? For what? To live in a studio and wait tables? To find another Kyle?”
The insult stung.
“My ‘cheap’ life was mine,” she said coldly. “And maybe it’s not worth much to you, but it was the only thing I had that was real.”
“This life is real!” He gestured to the penthouse, to the city. “What we feel is real!”
“Then why can’t you say it?” she demanded. “Why can’t you say ‘I love you, stay with me’? Why does it have to be ‘I bought you, now let’s go to Tokyo’?”
Ethan fell silent. His mouth opened and closed. The words were there. She could see them in his eyes. But his throat seemed blocked by barbed wire. He couldn’t. He didn’t know how to love without possessing.
“I can’t give you the fairy tale, Maya,” he said finally, his voice cold and distant. “I’m not the prince. I’m the man who keeps you safe. If that’s not enough for you... then maybe you should leave on the first.”
Maya’s heart broke. He was shutting her out. He was choosing solitude over risk.
“Maybe I should,” she whispered.
The silence that fell over the terrace was absolute. It was the end. They had reached the edge of the cliff and, instead of building a bridge, both had stepped back.
Ethan looked at her one last time, his expression unreadable, and turned to go inside.
“I’m going to the office,” he said. “I have work.”
He started toward the glass door.
Maya stood alone on the terrace, staring at the city lights, feeling the desert cold seep into her bones. It was over. Fourteen days remained, but it had ended today.
Then the living room light changed.
It wasn’t Ethan turning on a lamp. It was a red light, pulsing, coming from the security panel on the wall.
A silent alarm.
Ethan stopped in the middle of the room. He looked at the panel.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.