Chapter 4 Solene

Solene

Of course she would call, the puppet master draped in pearls.

"You're not going to answer?" Antonio's voice is husky, his breath raged from moments ago.

"Not tonight," I murmur. "She can wait. Tonight, I will take something back."

I rake my fingers through my hair, breathing in deep. I'm half-naked in a hotel suite with a man I barely know, yet I feel no shame.

Behind me, the city lights blink through the glass wall, but inside me, something else blinks: it's rage, clarity, hunger.

I should be breaking things. Screaming. Crying. But all I feel is this heat curling low in my belly. Feral. Desperate. Wild.

Marcella's voice echoes in my head, "Smile for the camera, Solene."

Tonight, I bite.

I turn, and Antonio is still watching me.

He looks at me like I matter.

That alone makes me smile through the fury boiling beneath my skin.

I've been humiliated enough. But she'll never get to say she broke me.

The worst part isn't the lies or the staged photos. It's not even Rowan's public proposal to another woman.

It's that I let him shrink me. Dim me. Strip away who I used to be.

I stop in front of Antonio, eyes locked on his lips, it's devastating, addictive.

I'm done asking for permission to feel good.

I push him back onto the couch. He's strong, but he lets me. He relaxes his hands, with his sharp eyes, like he's testing how far I'll go.

I straddle him, legs on either side. My mouth brushes his ear.

"I want to be worshipped tonight, Antonio. I want to be touched like I matter. And I want it from you."

His hands slide up my back on instinct, then stop.

He didn't pull me in.

"You're playing with fire," he says, with a low strain voice.

My pulse jumps.

"Maybe I want to burn."

I might regret this tomorrow. But right now, I want the flames. And I want him to be the match.

I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth slowly.

My fingers brush the edge of his shirt and find the first button. I undo it.

He doesn't stop me. Just watch with an unreadable expression.

"You think I don't notice?" I whisper. "The way you look at me like I'm trouble?"

His jaw tightens.

"You're right," I breathe. "I am."

I slide his shirt from his shoulder, fingertips trailing over warm skin. His chest rises under my touch.

He stiffens.

"I know you don't sleep with the same woman twice," I whisper, with a steady voice, "and tonight, I don't care."

This time, I want to use him.

He stares up at me. "You're dangerous," Antonio says, with a low voice.

"I was always dangerous," I breathe, grinding slowly against him. "You just met the tamed version."

His eyes darken.

"You don't know what you're doing," he murmurs against my lips.

"Maybe," I whisper, my breath brushing over his mouth, "but you want to be undone by me."

His grip tightens around my waist. "Fuck," he mutters.

Then he moves, rising with me still straddling him. I cling to him as he carries me to the bed and lays me down gently, like I'm something breakable.

The sheets are cool against my back, but his body is all fire and control. Then his lips crash on mine.

His kiss isn't patient. It's possession, defiance, and raw hunger.

His hands roam, firm and sure, like he's trying to memorize every part of me.

Each kiss pulls something lost back into place, not a wife, not a pawn, but me.

My fingers reach for his belt, desperate to feel anything other than the rage and betrayal still clawing inside my chest.

Then-just for a second-I freeze.

He pulls something out of his pocket-of course. He's always ready.

A condom.

His kiss deepens, his breath rough and hot. But even as his mouth claims mine, I feel his restraint. His touch says he's giving in, but also fighting not to fall too deep.

I tell myself I'm in control, this is my choice.

But part of me knows...

I'm unraveling too.

And when he finally slides into me, I whoosh out a breath.

And in that moment, everything else disappears.

******

I blink slowly. My throat is dry. My limbs ache.

I turn my head. The bed is empty. Cold.

I look at the nightstand. I see a glass of water. Underneath it is a folded note.

I don't dare open it. I already know, whatever it says won't make this feel better.

I stare at the pillow, hoping he will come back.

But then I remember who he is.

"God... what did I do?" I whisper, sitting up and clutching the sheet to my chest.

The sunlight bleeding through the tall window feels like a spotlight.

It feels like the universe is watching. Like I've been caught.

My heart pounds in shame.

My thighs ache slightly as I move-it's a reminder of last night.

He was rough... and he gave me a fucking orgasm.

What kind of woman spreads her legs for a man she just met...

Just hours after her husband proposes to someone else, right in front of her?

No-ex-husband.

I drag myself out of bed, dress in a hurry, and pack every damn thing that belongs to me.

I shove my heels into my bag, not caring if they scuff the torn dress.

My hands tremble so badly I nearly drop my purse. Twice.

I do the walk of shame outside the suite.

The guards didn't spare me a glance, but their silence was loud.

One of them clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably.

They're used to seeing women leave the next day.

I'm not the first. I won't be the last.

But it still stings like hell.

I tell myself it was just one night. That I'll forget him before he forgets me.

I drag myself to the only place I can think of.

With my phone in hand, I scroll through my contacts.

I pause at the name, Cara.

We used to strip together.

It's been months. But right now, I need someone who knew me before I broke.

I press Call. After a few rings, Cara answers, her voice groggy and slurred with sleep.

"Damn, girl... it's barely 8 a.m."

"I'm sorry," I say softly, stifling a sob. "I didn't know who else to call."

There's a pause. A soft exhale.

"It's bad, huh?" Cara asks, this time, fully alert.

"I just need a place. For a day, maybe two. I'll figure things out after."

"I'm not home, babe."

My stomach sinks.

"Where's your key?" I ask, already hoping.

"Still taped under the electric box outside. Like old times," she mumbles. "You remember?"

"Yeah." My voice cracks. "Thank you."

Even the one person I turn to isn't here.

But it's enough.

I stop a cab and head to Cara's place.

It smells like cheap candles and old perfume. Safe in a broken way.

I drop my things and collapse on the couch.

My body aches. My chest feels hollow.

Then everything crashes down at once:

Rowan. Marcella. Calista. Antonio.

Tears slip silently down my cheeks.

I curl into a ball and finally let myself cry, the kind of sob that cracks your ribs from the inside.

The kind that sounds like years of betrayal.

I don't mean to fall asleep.

I just close my eyes for a second.

But the weight of everything drags me under.

My tears soak the cushion. I don't even dream.

The vibrating of my phone on the coffee table jolts me awake.

I reach for it-unknown number.

My stomach twists. What if it's Marcella? Or worse... him?

I place it back down.

Let it ring.

It stops.

Then-ding.

A text.

I sigh and turn the screen.

I sit up. My breath catches in my throat.

"Oh my God," I whisper.