THE PILOT’S EX WIFE

03

"This can't be serious," I mutter incredulously, my mind reeling with disbelief.

"I wouldn't joke about this. There are also properties and cars your father left behind," Nate explains, his voice steady and serious. "All of it will be lost over time if you don't take charge."

"Why have I never heard about this inheritance?" I demand, my heart racing with a mix of confusion and curiosity.

"For a whole year, I've held onto hope, waiting for a long-lost relative to step forward and claim this inheritance. But Mr. Hawthorne was a solitary man, and you, you're the only one I've managed to locate," he says. "I don't expect an immediate answer. Take your time to ponder it all. If, at any moment, you find yourself ready to step into the role and lead Hawthorne Company as its new CEO, know that I will be here, waiting eagerly to hand over what rightfully belongs to you."

**

"Ettore Del Vecchio was spotted kissing model Ana Lucca."

I repeatedly read the news, each word cutting deeper than the last, tears streaming down my face with each glance. The magazines and gossip websites have already spread the word about Ettore and Ana, their relationship plastered for all to see.

It seems like the only one who didn't know was me.

I meticulously touch up my makeup, the mascara wand brushing against my lashes for the third time this evening. Standing before the mirror, I await the inevitable, the looming event of the night: Ettore's birthday celebration.

With a heavy heart, I glance at myself in the mirror one last time, trying to mask the pain behind a facade of composure. The weight of betrayal sits heavily on my shoulders as I prepare to face the world outside, where everyone seems to know my husband's secrets before I do.

The ache in my chest intensifies with every beat as I realize the charade I've been living, the lies I've been swallowing to maintain the illusion of a happy marriage.

The heavy thud of Ettore's footsteps reverberates through the room, each step sending a jolt of apprehension coursing through my veins. My heart pounds in my chest, the sound of its rapid beats filling the silence.

As he draws nearer, the tension in the room becomes palpable, almost suffocating. I can sense his presence behind me before I even see him.

When I catch his reflection in the mirror, my breath catches in my throat.

Ettore couldn't be more elegant!

His black suit clings to him like a second skin, accentuating every sinew of his powerful frame. The fabric, sleek and impeccably tailored, molds to his body with a precision that speaks of luxury and sophistication.

I straighten my posture, forcing myself to maintain composure in the face of the storm brewing around us.

His blue eyes, usually so inscrutable, now hold a glint of something unreadable, something that sends a ripple of unease through me.

Our gazes lock in the mirror, a silent exchange charged with unspoken words and unfulfilled promises.

I want to break the silence, to confront him about the betrayal that hangs between us like a dark cloud. But the words stick in my throat, trapped by the suffocating grip of the tension that surrounds us.

I feel his gaze linger on me, traveling from head to toe, like a predator assessing its prey. A shiver runs down my spine as his eyes roam over my form, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

I hate that he has so much power over me.

His lips part slightly, a subtle movement that sends a rush of anticipation coursing through me. I hold my breath, waiting for him to speak, to break the tense silence that hangs between us like a heavy veil.

I can almost sense the hunger in his gaze, the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.

I glance down at the white dress clinging to my curves, the fabric whispering against my skin with every movement. It's simple yet elegant, the plunging neckline and figure-hugging silhouette leaving little to the imagination.

And for the briefest moment, a flicker of doubt creeps into my mind, a nagging voice whispering warnings of danger ahead.

As Ettore draws nearer, the room seems to shrink, filled with an electrifying tension that crackles in the air. Each step he takes echoes in the silence, reverberating through the space between us.

With each footfall, my heart beats faster...

His attire exudes power and control. And as he stands before me, a silent sentinel in his tailored armor, I can't help but wonder what lies behind the facade.

I steady my trembling breath as his presence envelops me. His touch sends a shiver down my spine as he reaches out, his fingers grazing my skin with a bittersweet tenderness.

Closing my eyes, I try to mask the ache in my heart, the yearning that threatens to consume me. Yet beneath the facade of composure, I can feel the raw, unspoken desire pulsating between us.

As he zips up the back of my dress, his touch lingers. There's a sense of intimacy in his actions.

But even as I yield to the seductive allure of his touch, conflicting emotions swirl within me like a tempestuous sea. A pang of betrayal gnaws at my heart.

With each smooth glide of the zipper, sealing me within the confines of the dress, I question if redemption can ever be found in the embrace of the one who has caused such turmoil in my soul.

"Did you see the newspaper?" I inquire, my voice barely above a whisper, trembling with uncertainty.

"Is that the question you want to ask?" he responds, his tone laced with a hint of reproach.

My mind races with a myriad of questions, yet fear holds me back from voicing them all. With a deep breath, I turn to meet his gaze.

"I just want to know if you care about me," I confess.

His piercing gaze penetrating through me, stirring up a mixture of emotions. His warm breath, scented with mint, grazes my cheek, igniting a flicker of desire amidst the turmoil.

I can feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping me in its intoxicating allure. Standing tall above me, his presence commands the room, leaving me feeling both vulnerable.

"You're in my house. I take care of all your wants and needs. So I ask you, do I care about you?"

I straighten up, "I suppose that's one way to look at it," I reply, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "But sometimes, it's not just about having your wants and needs taken care of, is it?"

Ettore's gaze softens slightly as he considers my words. "No, it's not," he concedes. "But you know as well as I do that our situation is... complicated."

I nod, feeling a knot form in my stomach. "Complicated doesn't even begin to describe it." I smooth out the lapel of his suit with trembling fingers. "Your gift is waiting for you on my bed," I manage to say, sidestepping the confrontation.

If Ana is the one he truly desires, then whether or not he cares about me is inconsequential.

"Happy birthday," I add softly.

His hand envelops mine, his touch firm yet tender as he guides it along the contours of my face. I lean into his palm. His touch ignites a cascade of sensations, stirring an undeniable longing within me.

As I stand on tiptoe, I can feel the anticipation crackling in the air between us. The warmth of his breath mingles with mine, creating an intoxicating blend of desire and need. Our bodies press together, the heat of his presence enveloping me.

His gaze, dark and penetrating, locks with mine, holding me in a captivating trance.

As I lean in, the anticipation of our impending kiss electrifies the air.