The silence in the house was loud enough to make her ears ring.
It had been three long, agonizing weeks since the heavy front door had been nearly kicked off its hinges. Three weeks since the flashing blue and red lights had illuminated her bedroom windows, casting distorted, chaotic shadows across the ceiling while the police escorted her husband, Christian, out in handcuffs. The driveway had been empty ever since, the neighborhood gossiping in hushed whispers, and Christian was currently locked away in a county cell awaiting his trial. The marriage had been volatile, explosive, and draining, but the sudden absence of it was deafening. The king-sized bed felt way too big, the living room felt entirely too cold, and the sheer boredom of being the loyal wife left behind in the wreckage was starting to choke her.
She was lonely, yeah, but more than that, she was completely starved for excitement. The quiet walls of Christian’s house felt like a prison of their own, wrapping around her until she could barely breathe.
Lying flat on her back on the mattress, she stared up at the ceiling before rolling over to grab her phone off the nightstand. The bright blue glow of the screen lit up the darkness of her bedroom. She opened Snap-chat, her thumb mindlessly scrolling through her Quick Add list, skipping past old high school acquaintances and random people from the neighborhood.
Then, her thumb froze.
Marcus.
She sat up a little straighter, leaning her back against the padded headboard as she stared at the name. Marcus was Christian’s cousin, and just looking at his profile icon made a familiar, tight knot form in the pit of her stomach. She’d only seen him a handful of times in person—usually at those massive, chaotic family cookouts where he stood near the absolute edge of the yard, completely isolated from the rest of the loud, bragging men in the family line. Christian had always warned her to stay away from him, claiming Marcus was bad news, which only made him a hundred times more intriguing.
He was, without a doubt, the most devastatingly attractive man she had ever laid eyes on. He had a sharp, chiseled jawline that always seemed to be clenched, heavy eyelids that made him look like he was constantly analyzing every piece of filth around him, and a dark, effortless posture that practically screamed that he didn’t give a damn about anyone’s opinion.
But it wasn’t just his looks that made her chest tighten as she stared at the little yellow “+Add” button. It was his reputation. Gossip in their family circle traveled faster than a wildfire, and the women whispered about Marcus like he was some kind of dangerous myth. The word on the street was that Marcus was cold. Detached. Emotionless. The rumors said he was the type of guy who used girls for one very specific, very selfish thing. He never let them stay the night, he never took them out, and he absolutely never lost control. He was an untouchable bad boy who broke women without ever letting them break his composure.
A slow, wicked smile spread across her lips in the dark room. Her heart began to hammer against her ribs, a sudden rush of pure, toxic adrenaline flooding her veins. An untouchable bad boy who can’t be broken? Challenge accepted.
Without letting herself overthink the catastrophic consequences of crossing a strict family boundary while her husband was locked in a cell, she pressed her thumb firmly against the screen.
+Add.
She tossed the phone onto the blanket beside her, her heart racing. She expected to wait hours, maybe even days for a man like him to notice. But not even two minutes later, the phone buzzed violently against the mattress, the screen lighting up the dark room.
Marcus added you back!
Her breath hitched. She picked it up immediately, her fingers trembling slightly. Before she could even think of a clever, innocent opening line, a notification popped up at the bottom of the screen. Marcus was typing. A second later, the snap arrived. She tapped to open it. It was a dark, low-angle photo of his steering wheel, the glowing blue dashboard of a black Chrysler 300 illuminating his broad, tattooed forearm. The text typed across the middle of the screen made her blood run hot instantly: You up?
She leaned back against the pillows, biting her lower lip until it hurt. She didn’t want to play innocent. She didn’t want to play hard to get. She wanted to spring the trap right inside Christian’s house. She opened her camera, angling the phone down to capture a selfie that showed the messy tangle of her hair against the sheets, the strap of her tank top slipping just low enough to expose the smooth curve of her collarbone.
Yeah, she typed back, her fingers moving with deliberate confidence. Bored out of my mind in this big house. Come over.
She sent it, holding her breath. The three dots appeared instantly, then disappeared. Five minutes passed. Ten. The silence in the house returned, heavier this time, laced with the sudden, crushing weight of reality. What was she doing? She was Christian’s wife. If he ever found out from behind bars—
A sudden, sharp vibration in her hand shattered the quiet.
Marcus: Look out your front window.
Emily’s heart leaped into her throat. She slid out of bed, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floor as she hurried to the master bedroom window, parting the heavy blinds with trembling fingers. Down in the driveway, right where Christian’s car used to sit, the sleek, dark luxury sedan was idling quietly in the shadows. The headlights were completely off, but as she watched, the driver’s side door clicked open.
Marcus stepped out into the humid night air, tilting his head up to stare directly at the bedroom window, his dark eyes locking onto hers even through the distance. He didn’t smile. He just reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver lighter, and sparked a blunt, the faint glow illuminating the sharp, ruthless contours of his face. He was standing on Christian’s property, looking up at Christian’s wife, ready to cross a line that could never be uncrossed