Chapter 3
Ethan's POV
"Why the hell did you block Ivy on social media?" I snapped. From what Ivy texted me, Lucy had cut off all contact with her just now. No reason, no explanation.
"Do I need your permission to manage my social media now?" Lucy's voice sounded hoarse, like she'd been crying.
"Look, I get it. You're upset about your grandmother. But taking it out on Ivy? Real mature, Lucy."
"Oh, so now you care about my feelings?" The bitterness in her laugh felt like acid. "Where was all this concern when my grandmother was dying? Oh yeah, you were too busy throwing Ivy a birthday party."
"That's different-" The line went dead before I could finish. I stared at my phone in disbelief. She'd hung up on me. Then a notification popped up: "You can no longer send messages to this contact."
She'd blocked me too. The nerve of this woman.
The sun was setting over Central Park when I got home early. It was unusual for me. Lucy's hoarse voice kept echoing in my mind, making it hard to focus on work.
I found Lucy in the living room, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The late afternoon sun caught her silhouette, illuminating her like a melancholy angel. Her thick dark brown hair cascaded down her trembled shoulders in gentle waves.
"You blocked my number." I didn't bother with hello.
When she turned, my breath caught in my throat. Her eyes - those big, doe-like brown eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. She had definitely been crying at the cemetery. Damn it!
For a second, something twisted in my chest as I took in her vulnerable state. Then I remembered Ivy's tearful voice on the phone, and my sympathy evaporated.
"What, you came home early to yell at me?" Her voice was raw. "Must be important if it pulled you away from your precious Ivy."
"Cut the attitude." I moved closer, using my height to tower over her. "What's your problem? Ivy's been nothing but nice to you."
"Nice?" Lucy let out a short, sharp laugh. "Is that what you call it? Making me give blood every time she has a 'crisis'? Having me arrested on fake charges?"
"You pushed her down those stairs-"
"I've said it a million times, that wasn't me." She tried to walk past me, but I grabbed her wrist. "Let go of me."
"Not until we sort this out." I tightened my grip. "You can't just ghost Ivy because you're having a bad day."
"A bad day?" Her voice cracked. "My grandmother just died, Ethan. The only person who ever really loved me. And where were you? At Ivy's party, cutting her cake while my grandmother was being buried."
I attempted to clarify, but my words faltered. I watched in stunned silence as she stormed into our bedroom. The sound of closet doors being flung open snapped me back to reality.
Following her into the walk-in closet, I found her yanking clothes from hangers. Just her old stuff - that ratty Harvard Med sweater, those jeans from her Boston days. Everything from before I knew her.
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" She stuffed clothes into a duffel bag. "I'm leaving. I want a divorce."
The word hit me like a bucket of cold water. What the actual fuck? My jaw clenched so hard it hurt, rage burning through my veins like liquid fire. Who the hell did she think she was?
In three generations of Storm family history, no one had ever divorced. It was our family tradition - an unbreakable one. And this woman, this ungrateful bitch who owed everything to the Storm name, dared to spit those words in my face?
"Divorce?" I spat the word out like poison. My hands curled into fists at my sides, knuckles turning white. The sheer audacity of it made me want to laugh. "You think you can just divorce? You must be out of your fucking mind."
"I must divorce you." She turned to face me, her brown eyes no longer filled with tears but blazing with a cold determination I'd never seen before.
My heart sank.
"Don't be stupid." I blocked the closet door. "Where would you even go? Back to prison?"
She laughed - a hollow sound resonating in the room. "That's none of your business."
"I gave you everything." I gestured at the rows of Hermès and Chanel bags. "Hell, Ivy even picked these out-"
"Her leftovers?" Lucy's voice broke. "Is she trying to bribe me with these gifts? To keep me supplying her with blood? Dream on!"
I caught her arms as she tried to push past me, pulling her against my chest. Her familiar scent hit me hard. This was usually how we ended a fight.
I kissed her hair down and coaxed her in a low voice, "Don't be mad. Don't you want me?" With that, I slipped my hand under her skirt and her soft skin made me horny.
Lucy's breathing intensified as I rubbed her rounded ass. She couldn't stop panting in my arms. "Let me go," she whispered, but her body betrayed her.
I felt the slight tremor that ran through her when my hands found the bare skin at her waist where her silk blouse had ridden up.
"You don't really want that." I brushed my lips against her neck, feeling her pulse race.
She breathed, even as she tilted her head. The scent of her skin was intoxicating, bringing back memories of our more passionate moments.
A small moan escaped her lips as I licked the sensitive spot below her ear. Her fingers clutched at my shirt, torn between pushing me away and pulling me closer. Even angry and tear-stained, she was irresistible.
I caught her mouth with mine, swallowing her protest.
My fingers slid beneath the fabric of her panties, finding her most intimate spot. "You really don't want me to fuck you?" I whispered roughly against her ear, feeling her body shiver involuntarily as I circled her sensitive clit with practiced strokes. I pushed her panties aside, my fingers exploring her warm folds.
"No! Stop it!" Lucy turned her face away, her chest heaving with rapid breaths. The way she bit her lower lip to hold back her sounds only made me want to fuck her.
I increased the pace of my fingers inside her, feeling her walls clench around them. Fucking hot.
I sucked hard her neck while her hands clutched desperately at my shoulders, nails digging in.
A deep flush spread from her cheeks down her neck. Her earlobes burned red and her eyes grew increasingly wet, driving me wild with lust.
"You fucking bastard! I said stop! I hate this... I hate you!" She cried out.
"Hate? Little liar, you're already wet." I smirked, bringing my glistening fingers up to her face.