Chapter 2 - THE MAN EVERYONE LOVED
Ethan didn’t ask me twice.
“Andrew Vaughn?”
I stared at the floor.
That was enough.
His jaw flexed.
“Ava. Look at me.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
I raised my eyes.
The anger I saw there scared me more than shouting would have.
Ethan was famous for never losing control.
Wall Street called him ruthless.
Employees called him demanding.
Competitors called him worse.
But I had never seen him truly furious.
Until that moment.
“How long?” he asked.
“I need to get downstairs.”
“How long has he been hurting you?”
“Ethan—”
“How long?”
“Four months.”
His face hardened.
I laughed once, but nothing about it was funny.
“Maybe five.”
“Maybe?”
“You stop counting after a while.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
For one second, he looked like I had hit him.
Then the elevator chimed at the end of the hall.
My blood turned cold.
Andrew stepped out.
Perfect tuxedo.
Perfect hair.
Perfect smile.
“Ava?”
I instinctively pulled my sleeve lower.
Andrew looked from me to Ethan.
His smile remained, but his eyes sharpened.
“Everything okay?”
Ethan moved before I could answer.
He stepped directly between us.
“Yes,” Ethan said.
Andrew’s gaze flicked toward him.
“I was looking for my fiancée.”
“You found her.”
Something changed in Andrew’s face.
Barely noticeable.
But I noticed.
I always noticed.
He hated being challenged.
Especially by another man.
“Ava,” Andrew said, holding out his hand. “We need to get downstairs.”
My body moved automatically.
One step.
Then Ethan’s voice stopped me.
“She’ll come down when she’s ready.”
Andrew smiled.
“She’s my fiancée.”
“And she’s my employee.”
His smile tightened.
“I’m not sure why that matters.”
“Tonight it does.”
I wanted to scream at Ethan to stop.
He didn’t understand.
Men like Andrew didn’t explode in public.
They remembered.
They waited.
Then they punished you behind closed doors.
I forced a smile.
“It’s fine. I’m ready.”
Andrew put his hand on my back.
To everyone else, it looked affectionate.
His thumb pressed directly into the bruise below my ribs.
Pain shot through me.
I gasped.
Ethan saw it.
So did Andrew.
For one awful second, all three of us understood exactly what had happened.
Andrew removed his hand.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
His voice was gentle.
I hated that voice.
“I’m fine.”
Ethan stared at him.
Andrew stared back.
Then smiled.
“See you downstairs, Carter.”
He guided me toward the elevator.
The second the doors closed, his smile disappeared.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
Andrew grabbed my wrist.
Hard.
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
The elevator continued down.
Thirty-six.
Thirty-five.
Thirty-four.
His fingers tightened.
“You embarrass me tonight,” he whispered, “and when we get home, I swear to God—”
The elevator suddenly stopped.
The doors opened.
May you like
Ethan Carter stood on the other side.
And he had heard every word.
