His Enemy’s Heir

Chapter One Emily Carter stood still outside Suite 1908 of the Langford Grand Hotel, her fingers twisted firmly around the Silver key card that Ryan gave her months ago “for emergencies.” Her heart was pounding too fast. Not out of fear but out of hope. This night was supposed to fix everything. The last three months had felt like living with a total stranger. Ryan had grown distant, inattentive, and attached to his phone, especially during dinner. Midnight phone calls. Cold kisses. Discussions that finish before they start. It was their third anniversary, and tonight was her chance to show him they were happy. Emily smoothed the shimmering red gown Vanessa had picked out, champagne tight in her grip She smiled eagerly at her reflection in the shiny silver door of the suite. “Men love shocks,” Vanessa had told her that afternoon while assisting her to organize everything. The passageway was calm apart from the soft buzz of the hotel’s main air. Emily peeked down at the tiny red box pleated beneath her arm. In the box was the watch Ryan had glanced at weeks ago. The wristwatch was very expensive but Emily never cared because she needed this anniversary night to end very well. She wanted Ryan to look at her like he did on the night of their wedding. Like she was his safest place regardless. She took a regular breath and slid the key card in the lock and the door opened. And for one tiny moment, she smiled. Then she heard the giggle, a lady’s intimate laughter. Emily scowled. Ryan must have had somebody over from his job. Possibly a business associate. Perhaps this was his own surprise. The suite was faintly lit, the faded yellow lights radiating shades across the living area. Zero candles. Zero anniversary dinner. Zero roses. Her belly tensed.“Ryan?” she called. No response. Then she heard yet another noise, indistinct gasps. The undeniable rasp of a mattress. At this point, Emily was frightened. Gradually, she strolled onward. The champagne bottle dropped slowly in her moist palm. The door of the bedroom was not completely closed. And through that little opening, Emily saw enough to devastate her entire existence. Her spouse completely naked, pinned over a woman twisted in plain hotel sheets. The woman’s well-groomed hand crushed his bare back. Her radiant red claws. Emily figured out those nails. She recognized that hand because she had seen it wave goodbye just hours before. It was Vanessa. The champagne bottle smashed into the marble base. The quick blast of shattering glass gushes through the room. Ryan pulled out honorable. Vanessa’s head snarled toward the door. She couldn’t wink. Couldn’t figure out what she was looking at. Ryan shuffled rearward, almost falling out of the bed. “Emily—” Vanessa gently dragged the sheet to cover her bare chest. And then— She snickered. That tiny upward arc of her lips strained better than the disloyalty itself. Emily’s body eventually complied with the shout boiling within her. She turned around and sprinted away. “Emily, hold on!” Ryan hunted after her but she never stopped. Her heels thumped against the hotel passageway. Her eyesight clouded. Her lungs fumed. By the moment she got to the lift, Tears were flowing willingly down her face. The doors glided open. She struggled inside and pressed the lobby switch and immediately the doors shut, she broke down completely. Three whole years. Three years of this union. Three years of protecting Ryan when people gossiped that he cared more about work than his spouse. Three whole years of accepting all his reasons. Every suspended dinner. Every absentminded apology. And Vanessa. Vanessa, who had comforted her through pre-wedding nerves. Vanessa spent her afternoon helping her find the right dress for tonight. Emily covered her mouth with a trembling hand. For how much longer? How long have they been giggling without her knowledge? The doors of the elevator spread out into the grand hotel foyer. Emily staggered out sightlessly without a plan or destination. Only the hopeless hunger to run away. The Langfords’rooftop bar was jammed, active with pricey fragrance, clattering glasses. Emily hardly even caught a glimpse of anything. She strolled directly to the distant vacant seat and crumpled onto it, hugging the rim of the marble counter as if the whole world might lean underneath her. The bartender drew near her. “Ma’am?” Emily tried to speak, and her voice failed her She had no opinion what to demand. What does a woman drink after seeing her husband on top of her best friend? She was still figuring out what to reply when a thick voice spoke to the bartender beside her. “She’ll have a Martini.” Emily toughened. A crystal drinking glass was positioned in front of her. The man by her side seemed as if he had just come out of one of those insanely costly magazine covers that were lying around Ryan's office. A black well-tailored suit that fits perfectly, as if it had been made on his body. And eyes. Cool shadowy eyes that scanned her with frightening passion. As if he knew precisely what sort of misery had gathered here. Emily gazed. She should have walked out of that place. She should have shunned him. She should have just gone home and yelled, broken things, and begun packing Ryan’s bags. Rather, she took the Martini and drank. It scorched all the way down her throat. The stranger peeked at the silver lift at their back. “Your husband?” Emily’s fingers shrank around the drinking glass. “How did you—” “The utterance.” He stirred his liquor. “People are different and they also handle cheating differently.” He said it like he knew her more than he was supposed to, and it made her feel apprehensive. He gave a sign for another drink. They drank without saying a word. They drank yet another round and the sharp rims of Emily’s betrayal softened beneath the alcohol’s mist. Moments passed. Finally, she said something. She felt she might blow up if she hadn't uttered a word. “I bought him an expensive wristwatch.” The stranger swung around toward her. “For our third anniversary, I mean.” Her laughter sounded crooked. “I spent the past three weeks deciding on it.” He spoke no words. And somehow, his quietness felt better than any blank consolation could have. Emily gazed into her drinking glass. “She was my closest friend.” The phrases burst. “I depended on her.” For the very first time, sentiment flashed across his organized face. He was outraged.“You didn't deserve that” he said gently. Something inside of her shattered entirely. And tears overflowed. Before she was able to assemble herself, he spit out the matter that had been consuming from the moment she walked into that hotel suite. "Is something wrong with me?" The stranger’s stare became sharper. “Absolutely Nothing.” His response came immediately. Emily perked up and he slanted near. Near enough for her to detect the vague smell of cedar and costly perfume. “People cheat as a result of what is shattered in them,” he said. “Not because of what is missing in you.” The words hit her tougher than the Martini. No one had ever spoken anything so easily and made it come out so real. It took her breath away. She closed the distance and then she gave him an unplanned kiss. It was messy and desperate and motivated by deep sorrow and too much liquor. He raised one hand, brushed her jaw with his thumb, and returned the kiss. She neglected Ryan and Vanessa She didn't recall anything except the warmth of the stranger’s mouth and the risky way his hand sank at her waist. When they eventually became apart, they were both gasping for breath. The gray-eyed man checked out her face. “This shifts things.” Emily should have questioned what he implied. She shouldn't have ignored. Instead, she muttered, "Do what you want." His utterance dimmed. As if he were making some confidential conclusion. Then he stood and put forth his hand. “Follow me.” Emily glanced at her fingers. At the silent authority in his voice. At the lift waiting close by. And for motives she could not justify— She grabbed his hand and followed sheepishly.