Betrayed By Her Fiance

ILIANA'S POV — My breath is stuck in my throat, tears swelling in my eyes, my heart slowly tearing apart at the disbelieving sight in front of me. It couldn't have gone this wrong. My parents raised me well. I've been noble, honest and a good woman, I've lived my life doing the right things— just the right things, and this is what I get? Tears rest on the rim of my eyes, blurring my vision, my heart squeezing painfully as I stand in the ajar door, holding my breath. "So tight," his once soothing voice now only rises bile in my uncomfortable tight throat. The voice of my fiance,Nolan, echoes around the room, muffled with the sound of their moans and heavy breathing. My fingers curl into a ball, nails digging into my palms. He said forever, but I guess what they say is true— nothing lasts forever, it's an illusion that could disappear into the abyss within a second when you get a reality check. The bartender from the bottom deck is riding him, and I can't seem to pry my eyes away from them— their movements in sink, the way his hands roam her petite body, his pale hands feeling every inch of her. I remember her, I remember the way Nolan was ogling her, laughing at all of her ridiculously stupid jokes. This was supposed to be our cruise trip, to relax before the wedding planning starts, to take a break from the real world. This was supposed to be our vacation, our time to spend together, but as soon as I head out to tan for only an hour, he screws another woman, betraying me in the worst way possible. He said he'd wait for me, until our wedding night, that he only wanted me, but one too many beers is more than enough to convince him otherwise. My head twists into the direction of the sound of a door shutting, my dark locks flicking against my shoulder and I take step back, my hip hitting the big pot with a tree inside, and it wobbles as I grab onto it. "s**t, why is the door open?" Nolan's panic is clear in his voice. Pain engulfs me, it feels like a knife stabbing me over, and over again. He isn't sorry, he doesn't care that it's me who he's betraying. All he damn well cares about is getting caught. "Just wait," he hisses at the bartender, panic filling me and I dart to the next door, feeling the lock, and relief fills me as the door opens and I slip into the room next to ours. We share a room with two single beds because we haven't slept in the same bed— ever, and it's more cost effective anyway, which meant more money to spend on our honeymoon. I close the door as quietly as possible, my heart beat throbbing in my ears, a layer of sweat coating my forehead as I wait in suspense, wondering if he saw me slip in here. Pressing my ear to the door, my chest rises and falls unevenly. I hear Nolan's heavy footsteps, and then I hear the door shut again, any sound after that is silenced by the thick walls of the boat. My shoulders fall in relief of not being caught. He thinks that I don't know, and for now I want to keep it that way until I figure out what to do. Startled, I whip around as a door slightly behind me opens, steam rolling out like thick fog, a tall, muscular man stepping out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his fibrous waist, his v-line on display as the center attraction, the lines clearly visible, dragging all the way up, lining out his abs. Birds are tatted from the side of his ribs, flying down toward his V-line. Pitch black lightning bolts are permanently marked from his shoulder, down his right arm, fading out on his forearm. He halts in his steps, his wet black hair slicked back, his eyes gloomy and filled with curiosity. "I need some clean towels," he instructs, glancing back down at his phone, not minding me one bit. Offended, I scoff, "Excuse me?" I ask baffled, and without lifting his head, he glances at me through his lashes, "I'm out of clean towels," he snaps, his sour mood clearly matching his eyes. "I'm not a maid," I deadpan, and his eyebrows raise in surprise, lifting his head, his grey hues drag down the length of me, taking in my appearance, "Oh, I couldn't tell the difference," his cold tone sets alight a fire inside of my chest, and an instant hatred vibrates through my bones. How dare he tell me I'm dressed as a maid? I'm wearing a red summer dress over my bikini! Staring at him with flaming anger, my teeth grind together, "What are you doing here anyway? This is my room," the entitlement in his voice irks me. "Nothing," I huff, turning on my heel, but as I reach for the door handle, a wet, hot chest presses against my open back, his arm passing my head as his hand slams against the door, making it impossible for me to open as he leans against it with his weight. Carefully turning, I press my back against the door, putting as much distance between us as I can. I glare up at the naked man in front of me. "Who the hell do you think you are?" I sneer, my chest rising and falling faster than when I was running to hide. Whoever he is, he's gorgeous, but also very intimidating. "Who am I? Who are you? You strut into my room, and you don't even give me a reason," his head shakes once, tutting, his eyes flick over my face, "I can call security on you," His eyebrows raise as he threatens me. "Go ahead, I'd happily explain my situation to them,", "You can explain it to me and save us both the trouble," curiosity is written all over his face. He just wants to know my business, but I'm so done with pig heads that call themselves men, and this one is especially getting on my nerves. "Not a chance," I breathe. I shouldn't notice every curve that his muscles form on his shoulders, or the perfect lining on the lightning strikes, but I do— and I hate that I do. Pausing, I recall what's going on next door, my heart shooting up into my chest. I can't let him continue screwing that woman! "Move it," I lift my hands, shoving my flat palms against his hard chest and he grins as he stumbles back, his devilish grin very pleasing. I scoff, finding my exit strategy as fast as possible, and I find my way back to the place it all started tumbling down. "Not going in?" My head twists into the direction of the strange tatted man, standing in just his towel, leaning with his hand on the wall, watching me with amusement. He knows something. He definitely knows something. Ignoring him, I glance back at the shut door, staring at it, wishing I could see through it, wondering if they're still in there, sinning. "Is this your room?" he scoffs, staring at me bewildered. Gulping, I nod, "Yes," not once looking at him. "You're sharing?" his tone mocking, and my head pivots in his direction, my eyebrows drawing together in a frown. "No," My throat tightens. "Oh, so this is where you got the idea to hog my room, because someone is hogging yours?" I glance back at the door, my eyes flicking down to the handle, "My fiance is in there," I breathe, not knowing why I'm explaining myself to him. My heart shatters as the words roll on my tongue is distaste. It makes it real. The words make it all so, so real. "Well s**t, and you aren't the one moaning your lungs to death?" Embarrassed, my head swings in his direction, my eyes widening, "The bathroom walls aren't as thick as these ones," his forearm swings forward, his knuckles knocking against the wall next to his door. A burst of heat explodes in my cheeks, turning them bright red. Seeing my flabbergasted face, his drops, looking concerned as his gaze flicks between the door and I. "s**t," his frown forms lines between his thick, bushy eyebrows, "That's too bad," his entire demeanor changes, a smug look taking over his features. He slips back into his room, knowing my shameful situation, leaving me to deal with it alone. I don't know why I expected him to save me, to give me some sort of advice, but I did— and now all I can do is stand here, and wait for my courage to break through my numbing bones.