At 5:30 p.m., the terrible sounds of Olivia's internal clock forced her eyes open.
Only four hours had passed since the brutal encounter, yet her entire body throbbed in pain. A deep, numbing ache radiated from her lower body, spreading like wildfire through every limb.
She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to adjust to the agony. Then, gritting her teeth, she forced herself off the bed and reached for her clothes.
Even that simple movement made the world spin. Darkness edged her vision, and beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
On the large bed, Ryan stirred. Groaning, he reached for his phone, squinting at the harsh glow of the screen. 5:30 p.m. His jaw tightened, and with an irritated sigh, he tossed the phone to the floor.
It was his day off. He had been drinking. He had been busy last night. And the last thing he wanted was to be woken up this early.
He rolled over, planning to go back to sleep, but the sound of rustling fabric made that impossible.
Annoyed, he turned his head just in time to see the thin fabric slipping over her body. The dim light exposed pale skin, littered with dark bruises. Hickeys. His marks.
Something twisted inside him. The fragments of last night rearranged themselves in his mind, but instead of satisfaction, irritation clawed at his chest.
With a frustrated sigh, Ryan sat up, grabbed his pants from the bedside, and put them on.
Hearing the movement, Olivia glanced back, a flicker of surprise in her tired eyes. “You’re up?”
His body clock was never this early.
Ryan scoffed. “You’re up before the damn roosters. Of course, you woke me.” His voice dripped with mockery, his emphasis on roosters sharp and deliberate.
Olivia stiffened. The humiliation in his tone wasn’t lost on her.
She met his gaze, her lips curving into a cold, taunting smile. “Well, I’m still standing, aren’t I? Shouldn’t that say something about your abilities?”
His expression darkened instantly.
For a moment, he just stared at her. His so-called wife. The title didn’t suit her.
It was ridiculous.
Tension thickened the air as Ryan pushed to his feet, his tall frame closing the distance between them. The late afternoon sunlight poured through the window, casting a golden glow on his tanned skin.
His movements were controlled, but his eyes, those dark, unreadable eyes held a dangerous edge.
A predator closing in.
Olivia’s muscles tensed. “What are you…”
Before she could finish, a strong force sent her crashing back onto the bed.
Her breath hitched. Panic surged through her veins, but before she could resist, he was on top of her, pinning her down with ease.
A smirk tugged at Ryan’s lips as he watched her struggle weak, futile. His hand moved, grasping the fabric she had just put on. With one sharp motion, the thin material tore apart, leaving her skin bare beneath the shredded cloth.
His gaze dropped to her delicate collarbone. The hunger in his eyes flickered, dimming for just a second.
Olivia’s heart pounded.
She had seen that look before just last night.
Through his drunken haze, through his violent desperation, his eyes had burned just like this.
But he hadn’t been looking at her.
He had whispered another woman’s name. Over and over.
That soft murmur had cut through the chaos like a blade, slicing through her defenses, carving itself deep into her chest.
Emma Sinclair.
The name echoed in her mind like a curse.
Her thoughts spiraled, her body frozen beneath him. She barely registered his touch, the heat of his skin searing against hers.
No.
She refused to let this happen again.
With a sharp breath, she forced herself to speak. “Ryan, look at me. I’m not her. I’m not Emma.”
The effect was immediate.
Ryan stilled.
That name was his greatest weakness.
His grip loosened, his body rigid. Even in his worst state, that name was enough to snap him back to reality.
Silence stretched between them.
Olivia didn’t move, afraid that any sudden action would set him off again.
For a moment, she thought he might get off her.
Then, he leaned in close, his voice like ice against her skin. “Of course, I know you’re not her.”
He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. His smirk returned, cruel and cutting.
“You’re just Daniel’s mistress.”
