Craved By My Husband's Best Friend

Marissa POV

I stood in the center of our pristine living room, the space I had spent the last two years turning into a sanctuary.

Now, the silence felt like a predator. I was utterly bamboozled no, dumbfounded didn't even touch the edges of it. It felt as if the floor had suddenly liquefied, leaving me suspended in mid air with nowhere to land.

"What did you just say, Ethan?" I asked. My voice came out thin and brittle, like old parchment. My ears were literally reverberating with the echo of his words, a sickening rhythm that made my vision blur.

Ethan wouldn't meet my eyes. He was staring at his reflection in the floor to ceiling windows, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his tailored suit. "I know it's not a proud thing to say, Marissa... but you have to know this. I cheated on you."

"Come again?" I whispered. My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard I thought they might crack. "I need you to say those words again, Ethan. I need to be absolutely sure I'm not having a stroke."

"I cheated, Marissa!" he snapped, his guilt finally curdling into a defensive, ugly rage. "I am sorry. I know I've f*cked up badly this time. I know I did! I don't even know what was wrong with me at the time, okay? It was just... it happened. And I sincerely feel guilty, which is why I am telling you now!"

"You feel guilty now?" I let out a sharp, jagged laugh that sounded like breaking glass. "What, Ethan? I can't believe you actually did this to me! What could that b*tch possibly have that I don't, huh? Tell me! Look at me and tell me!"

I stepped into his personal space, forcing him to look at the wreckage of my face.

"What qualities does she possess that I lack? Is it beauty? Charm? Is she better at pretending to love you?" I slammed my fists into his chest, each blow a release of the three years of devotion I had wasted on him.

"Ethan, I gave you everything! I even quit my job for you! I walked away from my career, my promotions, my entire identity, all just to become a stay-at-home wife because you said you wanted a home to come back to! You beast!"

"I am sorry!" he kept groaning, absorbing the hits without moving. "I am so sorry, Marissa. Please, just listen to me."

"Forgive? Did you just dare mention the word forgive?" I backed away, my chest heaving as I gasped for air. "Look at yourself. Are you even worthy of being in the same room as me right now? You're a stranger to me."

"I am sorry, Marissa. Just please, don't leave me, okay? I promise I will never do it again," he wailed, his voice cracking as he moved to engulf me in his arms. He tried to pull me into the warmth of a hug that I now found utterly repulsive.

I shoved him back with every ounce of strength I had left. "Of course you wouldn't do it again, Ethan! You know why? Because I am filing for a divorce! I want the papers on your desk by Monday morning."

The color drained from his face, leaving him looking sickly and grey. "No, Marissa, you can't do this to me! I am not going to agree to that! You know what? If it makes you feel better, go cheat on me back! Go find some guy tonight, sleep with him, get it out of your system, and then we can call it even and continue this relationship, okay? I am truly sorry and I regret it!"

I stared at him, my stomach turning with pure disgust. My hand flew out before I could even process the thought, slapping him right across the face. The crack echoed through the empty house like a gunshot.

"You bastard! Is that what you think of me? You think my dignity is a currency you can trade? You think a revenge fling solves the fact that you burned our vows to the ground?"

"Fine," I hissed, my voice trembling with a terrifying blend of rage and sorrow. "Since you want to be cheated on so badly, maybe I will do just that. But it won't be to save us."

I grabbed my phone, my fingers shaking so violently I almost dropped it, and began to dial Hailey's number.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice trembling with visible terror.

"I am calling Hailey. I need to get out of this house. I need to be alone to clear my head before I do something we both regret! I want you out of my sight, Ethan! Get out! I want you out of my sight for good!"

"You don't need to go, Marissa," he said quickly, backing toward the hallway. "I will go. I will stay at a hotel. I'll give you all the time you need to think. Just... please don't do anything rash."

He was halfway out the door when a cold, hard thought struck me. "Ethan!" I called out.

He stopped, a pathetic spark of hope flickering in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Tell me honestly," I said, my voice eerily calm now. "Why did you tell me now? And how many months have you been cheating with your little whore?"

He flinched as if I'd slapped him again. "Are you sure you want to hear that? It literally does us no good."

"What if I tell you that your answer decides whether I even consider not taking you for every penny you're worth in court?"

He took a deep breath, looking smaller than I'd ever seen him. "Four months. It's been four months."

The number felt like a physical weight on my chest. Four months of "late meetings." Four months of "working weekends."

"I told you because..." he hesitated, "because she's threatening to sue me for $300 million if I don't tell you myself. She wants to ruin the company, Marissa. She says she'll go to the press. That huge sum of money is enough to drown the firm in debt. I wanted to tell you myself before it hit the news."

The truth felt like a final, cold blade to the heart. He wasn't confessing because he loved me. He was confessing because he was being extorted. He was protecting his bank account, not our marriage.

"Is that all? Now get out!" I yelled, the sound tearing from my throat. "GET OUT!"

The moment the door clicked shut and I heard his car pull out of the driveway, the adrenaline vanished. I collapsed against the door, sliding down until I was a ball on the floor. I cried hot, thick tears that slammed down my cheeks, soaking into my silk blouse.

I reached for my phone, scrolling until I found my "Lana Del Rey" playlist. As the dark, cinematic symphony of Born to Die began to fill the room, I let the music drown out the sound of my own heart breaking.

Marissa POV

I woke up to a cold, damp pillow. My face felt tight, my eyes swollen nearly shut from the "hot tears" that had slammed down my cheeks until I finally passed out from exhaustion.

The house was deathly quiet....no sound of Ethan's humming, no scent of morning coffee. Just the lingering ghost of yesterday's wreckage.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand. The screen was a graveyard of notifications.

Ethan (6:42 AM): Please talk to me, Marissa.

Ethan (7:15 AM): I'm at the office. I didn't sleep a wink. I'm so sorry.

Ethan (8:03 AM): I sent you something. Please don't throw it away.

I swiped past them, my stomach turning, and saw three missed calls from Hailey. I hit dial, needing a voice that didn't sound like a lie.

"So, how is our favorite little housewife doing today?" Hailey's voice boomed through the speaker, vibrant and full of life. "I've been calling you for ages! I have the juiciest gist about this new guy I met at the gym, but you weren't answering? Are you still in bed, you lucky girl?"

"Terrible," I responded. My voice was raspy, stripped of its usual cheerful lilt.

"What?" she hollered.

The silence on my end was deafening. Usually, I was the "dumb and happy" wife, always eager to hear her stories while I gushed about a new sourdough recipe or a curtain fabric I'd picked out. I had spent three years perfecting the art of being a homemaker, never realizing I was just decorating a prison.

"You heard me, Hails," I said, my grip tightening on the phone. "I said terrible."

"But why? Did Ethan do something? Are you sick? Wait... are you pregnant and in a total mood? Answer me, girl! I am about to get worried to death!"

"It's a long story," I whispered, staring at the ceiling. "I'll drop by your place when you're back from work, okay? I need... I just need to get out of this house."

"Okay, babe. I will be expecting you. Whatever it is, we will handle it."

I tossed the phone aside and dragged myself out of bed. Every movement felt like I was wading through lead. I stripped the sheets....the same sheets he had likely laid on while thinking of her and threw them into the laundry room. Then, I retreated into the bathroom.

I stayed in the shower for an hour. I let the water run as hot as I could stand, crying until my throat was sore and the steam filled the room like a shroud. By the time I stepped out, I felt hollowed out. Empty.

I headed to the kitchen to try and eat, but the doorbell rang, echoing through the hollow house. When I opened it, there was no one there...just a massive, ostentatious bouquet of red roses sitting on the porch.

My favorite.

I looked at them, and for a second, I felt a flicker of the old Marissa. Then I remembered. When was the last time he'd gone an extra mile to send flowers? When was the last time he wasn't "too tired" or "too busy" to show me he cared?

I picked up the small card tucked into the blooms.

Marissa, my heart is breaking knowing I've hurt you. These are a small reminder of the beauty you brought into my life. I know I don't deserve it, but please... let me make this right. I love you more than the company, more than anything. - Ethan.

I stared at the slanted, familiar handwriting. It literally does us no good, he had said yesterday. He was right. These flowers did me no good.

With a surge of cold fury, I didn't even take them inside. I walked straight to the large trash bin at the curb and dumped the entire package-roses, vase, and note...into the garbage.

By the time I was ready to head to Hailey's, I looked like a different person. I took my time with my makeup, using a heavy hand with the concealer to hide the puffy evidence of my breakdown. I picked out a dress that didn't scream "housewife."

The traffic was a nightmare, a literal crawl through the city heat, but for once, I didn't mind. I sat in my car, staring at the bumper in front of me, remarkably calm. I didn't curse the drivers; I didn't get pulled over. I just breathed.

Finally, I reached Hailey's apartment. She opened the door before I could even knock, her arms wide open.

"Come in, babe! Everything is set!"

I stepped inside and saw the little setup she'd made on the coffee table: a spread of fruits, snacks, and a tall, chilled glass of orange juice. It was so sweet, so normal, that I felt a tiny giggle escape me, sounding like a five-year-old for a split second.

We sat down on her plush velvet sofa, and she turned on the TV to low volume, leaning in with wide, expectant eyes.

"Okay, spill," she said, clutching a pillow. "Where do we even start with this 'terrible' day?"

I took a long sip of the juice, the cold liquid coating my dry throat. I looked her dead in the eye.

"Oh, okay. Let's start with the part where Ethan cheated."

Hailey didn't just gasp. She literally spat her drink out, the orange juice spraying across the table as she choked in pure, unadulterated shock.

"He what?!"

"Marissa... tell me you're joking," Hailey finally choked out, grabbing a handful of napkins to dab at the mess on her lap. "Ethan? Mr. 'I-have-to-get-home-to-my-wife' Ethan? The man who literally acted like you hung the moon?"

"He was acting, Hailey. And he deserves an Oscar," I said, my voice eerily steady. I leaned back into her plush sofa, the cold glass of orange juice condensation chilling my palm. "He's been seeing her for four months."

Hailey's jaw dropped even further. "Four months? While you were home making gourmet three-course meals and folding his silk boxers? I will actually kill him. I'll do it. I have a shovel in my trunk."

I gave a weak, jagged smile. "Save the jail time. He didn't even tell me because he felt bad. He told me because the woman is suing him for three hundred million dollars. He's terrified she's going to bankrupt the company and ruin his 'perfect' reputation."

Hailey went dead silent. The anger in her eyes shifted to something sharper calculation. "So he's not just a cheater. He is a coward who's using you as a shield against a lawsuit."

"Exactly. And you know what the best part is?" I let out a dry, hollow laugh. "He told me I should go out and cheat on him. To 'even the score' so we can just go back to being the perfect couple."

Hailey slowly set her glass down. The playful "gist" energy was completely gone, replaced by a cold, protective fire. "He actually suggested that? He wants to turn his betrayal into a transaction?"

"He thinks I'm still that girl, Hails. The one who's too scared to break a plate, let alone a vow." I looked down at my hands. They weren't shaking anymore. "But I am done being the 'perfect' wife. I'm done being the stay-at-home ornament."

"Good," Hailey hissed, reaching over to grab my hand. "Because if he wants you to even the score... then we are going to make sure you win the whole damn game."

I looked at her, and for the first time since the world broke, I felt a spark of something other than pain. It was a cold, simmering ambition.

"So," I whispered. "What do we do first?"

Marissa POV

"You see how we cut the line? No hassle. We are hot, babe," Hailey said, adjusting her cleavage in the mirror-lined hallway. Her blonde hair was snatched back into a high, lethal ponytail, her green eyes popping against thick, dark mascara. She looked like a predator in her shimmering bodycon dress.

I, on the other hand, felt like a woman reborn in crimson. My red, sleeveless gown clung to my curves, the slit running high up my thigh, teasing with every step. My brunette hair was styled in deep, glossy Hollywood waves, and my makeup was a masterpiece of "revenge chic" a sharp winged liner and a blood-red lip that screamed I was no longer the girl waiting at home with a pot roast.

"Damn," Hailey smirked, glancing at the line of girls outside. "Those ladies still waiting might curse us out. Let them. We've already achieved the goal."

We pushed into the heart of the club. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, high end gin, and the low thrum of deep house music. Hailey leaned in close to my ear, her voice barely audible over the beat.

"This is the spot, Marissa. New York's best. But look up there," she pointed to a frosted glass balcony overlooking the floor. "That is the VVIP tier. The highest ranking. Those people don't even let their faces be seen. They wear masks the entire night...total anonymity, total power. You don't get up there unless you're a god or a monster."

"And what are we?" I asked, feeling the tequila from earlier hum in my veins.

"Tonight? We are whatever we want to be."

We headed to the bar. The bartender was in his mid-twenties, clearly Japanese, with hard, sculpted biceps that looked like they were carved from marble. I couldn't help but stare as he expertly flipped a shaker.

"That's rude," he said suddenly, his eyes snapping to mine.

I furrowed my brows. Out of all the women practically drooling over him, he chose to call me out? "What do you mean?"

"The ring," he said, pointing a tattooed finger at my left hand. "It signifies you are married, isn't it?. Looking at me like that... it's a bit of a double standard, don't you think?"

I froze. I hadn't even noticed I was still wearing it. Three years of habit had made the gold band feel like a part of my skin. I felt a surge of nausea, then a flash of heat. I yanked the ring off and shoved it into my clutch.

"Arigato," I muttered, trying to soften the tension.

He didn't smile. His brow furrowed deeper. "I may look Japanese, but I'm actually Taiwanese. Maybe ask before assuming next time."

Goddamn. My luck was abysmal. If I kept offending everyone I met, I was definitely not getting laid tonight.

I apologized and turned to leave, only to see a tall, brown haired guy trying to corner Hailey. He had his shirt halfway unbuttoned, flexing his abs like a peacock.

"Can I get the lady's bill?" he asked, flashing a row of perfectly white teeth.

Hailey didn't miss a beat. "If you're paying for mine, you're paying for hers. We're a package deal."

"If that's what the lady wants!" He blew her an air-kiss.

I didn't stay to watch the flirting. I downed my last shot of alcohol, the burn felt like life returning to my veins and leaned into Hailey's ear. "I'm getting on the dance floor."

"Okay! Call me if you need anything. Be careful, Marissa!"

The world was starting to tilt, a pleasant drowsiness settling into my bones. But then, the beat changed. The slow, heavy thrum of One of the Girls by The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp and Jennie started to pulse through the speakers. It was sensual, dark, and exactly how I felt.

I made my way to the middle of the room. I started dancing, my body moving like liquid, my eyes half-closed. I wasn't dancing for Ethan. I was dancing for the woman I had buried three years ago.

Then, I felt it. A gaze so heavy it felt like a physical touch.

I looked up toward the VVIP balcony. A man was standing there, shrouded in shadows. He wore a dark, intricate silver mask that covered the upper half of his face, but his jawline was sharp enough to draw blood. He was watching me. Not like a guy at a bar, but like a predator watching his next meal.

My heart skipped a beat. I didn't look away. I leaned into the music, letting my movements become more provocative, more sensual, my eyes locked on the silver mask above.

A few minutes later, a hand touched my shoulder. It wasn't Hailey. It was a man in a black suit-security.

"Ma'am," he whispered. "A gentleman from the upper tier would like to invite you for a drink. Privately."

I glanced at Hailey, who was busy laughing with the brown-haired guy, then back at the balcony. The silver mask was gone. He was waiting.

"Lead the way," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me.

He led me through a hidden door, up a velvet lined staircase, and into a dimly lit lounge that smelled of sandalwood and power.

He then abruptly paused and turned to me. he held out a silver tray. On it sat a delicate black net mask, shimmering with tiny obsidian crystals.

I looked at the mask, then back at the balcony. "Why the mask?"

"For your privacy, too," the guard said, his voice was void of emotion.

I took it. The cool silk felt like a dare. I slipped it over my eyes, the world turning into a hazy, provocative mesh. I followed him up the velvet stairs, my heart thumping a faster beat than the music below.

The man was standing by the window, his back to me. He had discarded his jacket, his white dress shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders.

"I have been staring at you for a long time, Marissa," he said.

His voice was a deep, textured baritone that vibrated right through my chest. I froze, my pulse spiking. "How do you know my name? The masks are supposed to keep us anonymous."

He turned slowly. Up close, he was devastating. The silver mask made his eyes look like burning coals, and his hot pink lips were even more distracting now that they were inches away. He took a slow, deliberate sip of amber liquid from a crystal glass, his gaze raking over my body behind the black net.

"I make it my business to know the names of things I find beautiful," he rumbled, stepping into my space. He was tall towering over me and the heat coming off him was intoxicating. He set the glass down and closed the distance until I could feel the silk of his shirt brushing my bare arms.

"Tell me," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave as he moved even closer. "Was that performance on the floor for the room? Were you trying to see how many men you could break tonight, or were you just trying to see if I was paying attention?"

"Maybe I just like the attention," I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs. Damn the tequila has gotten me pretty bold isn't it?

"Liar," he murmured. He reached out, his long fingers ghosting over the strap of my gown before his thumb hooked under my chin, tilting my head back. His touch was electric, sparking against my skin like a live wire. "You were dancing like a woman who wanted to burn her life down. It almost seemed like you were dancing for me."

I looked up at him through the black net, my breath hitching as his thumb moved to my bottom lip, pressing down with a possessive weight that made my knees weak.

"I wasn't dancing for you okay? By the way don't you think courtesy demands that you share your name too since you know mine?"

"Names don't matter behind these masks," he whispered, his face so close I could feel his breath. "Tonight, you are just a woman who wants to forget she exists. And I am the man who's going to make sure you do."

I didn't ask who he was. I didn't care about the $300 million or the divorce. I reached up, my fingers tangling in the dark, cool strands of his jet black hair, pulling him closer.

"Then stop talking," I challenged.

He didn't need to be told twice. He pulled me into him, his hand sliding down to the small of my back to crush me against him. As his lips crashed against mine, the world outside and Ethan completely vanished.