Love For Sale

Chapter 5: Cracks in the Facade

The sharp click of Naomi's heels echoed through the cold marble floors of Ethan's penthouse as she stormed into the living room. Her breath came out in heavy, frustrated huffs.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, pacing in front of the large windows that framed the night skyline. Her eyes were wild, her hands shaking as she tried to make sense of the rush of emotions swirling inside her.

Ethan stood across the room, leaning against the sleek kitchen island, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable, like he was studying her every move, waiting for her to lose it.

"I did everything you asked me to," Naomi said, her voice rising. "I played your little fiancée role, put on a damn show. And for what?" She turned to face him, narrowing her eyes. "To have you accuse me of being a liar because of a phone call from that woman? Really?"

Ethan stayed quiet for a moment, the words from Victoria’s call still echoing in his head. She's hiding something, Ethan. Don’t trust her. Victoria’s voice had been sharp, urgent. But now, standing here with Naomi, he couldn’t help but wonder—was she telling the truth? Or was it all a lie?

“I’m not accusing you,” Ethan said, his tone colder than he meant. “I’m asking you, Naomi. Why did you really crash that gala? What aren’t you telling me?”

Naomi froze, her chest tightening. Why did you really crash that gala?

She opened her mouth to retort, but the words got stuck. Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “You think I planned this?” she spat, her voice shaking with anger. “You think I wanted any part of your twisted, shallow world?”

Ethan’s gaze darkened. “I don’t know, Naomi. That’s why I’m asking.”

Naomi laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and broken. “You could’ve kicked me out when I spilled that drink on you. You could’ve done a million things to get rid of me. But you didn’t. Instead, you pulled me into your little game, gave me a makeover, and handed me a contract I couldn’t refuse. And now, after all of that, you’re questioning my motives?”

Her words hit him like a slap. Naomi didn’t know it, but every one of them struck at something he didn’t want to face. He wanted to argue, to deny it, but Naomi was right. She had no reason to be here, no reason to stay. Yet, here they were, and now, he was doubting her. The guilt gnawed at him. But still, something didn’t add up.

“Fine,” he said finally, frustration lacing his voice. “I don’t trust you. And I’m not going to pretend I do.” He pushed off the counter, standing straighter. “Tell me, Naomi. Who are you really? What’s your game?”

Naomi’s heart skipped a beat, but she wouldn’t let him see how much his words hurt. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, the fire in them rising.

“My game?” she repeated, her voice low and dangerous. “My game is surviving. You think I want any part of your world? I’ve been fine on my own. I didn’t need your money, your offers, your pity. But you dragged me into this. You want to know who I am? Fine. I’m a woman who’s trying to save her studio. I’m a woman who’s done everything she can just to get by.”

Ethan’s chest tightened. His instincts told him to push back, to keep questioning her, but there was something in her eyes now that made him stop. For a brief moment, he saw her as more than just a woman playing a role. He saw someone struggling, someone desperate in a way that mirrored the desperation he felt when he first built his empire.

He didn’t know what to make of it.

Naomi’s hands trembled as she wiped a stray tear from her eye. She hated that she felt this way. She hated that she cared. This wasn’t supposed to be her life. She wasn’t supposed to be here, in Ethan Blackwell’s penthouse, yelling at him like some messed-up couple. She wasn’t supposed to care.

But she did. And that scared her more than anything.

She stepped back, her breath quickening. “I didn’t want any of this,” she whispered, the fight draining from her. “I didn’t want to be your damn fiancée. I didn’t want your money. I just wanted a chance to keep my art alive.”

Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but something about the way Naomi looked at him, the vulnerability in her eyes, made him question everything he thought he knew about her.

Before he could say anything, Naomi turned sharply and walked toward the balcony. She threw the door open, needing space, needing air. The cool breeze hit her skin, but it did little to calm the storm inside her.

She leaned against the railing, her mind racing, her thoughts a jumbled mess of doubts and fears.

Behind her, Ethan stood in the doorway, watching her retreat. His eyes narrowed, a wave of guilt crashing over him. This wasn’t supposed to be hard.

Then, he heard her voice—a faint whisper through the silence.

“You don’t trust me,” she said, her voice raw, almost broken. “And why would you? I’m just some desperate artist with nothing to offer you.”

Her words hit him like a slap, and he felt the final barrier between them c***k. Ethan took a step forward, but then his phone buzzed in his pocket, the harsh sound slicing through the tension.

He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening as he read the message.

You need answers. Dig into her past.

Victoria’s message.

Without thinking, Ethan’s fingers tightened around the phone. The temptation to call back, to dig deeper into Naomi’s life, gnawed at him.

He was about to turn away from the balcony when—

His feet moved without him thinking. Slowly, he closed the distance between them, his hand reaching out, fingers brushing the back of her arm. Naomi stiffened, her body tensing at his touch.

“Naomi…” he murmured, his voice soft, almost hesitant. He was so close to her now, the heat of his breath brushing against her skin. His heart thudded in his chest, the pull between them undeniable.

She turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes, but there was no warmth in her gaze—only cold defiance.

Before Ethan could say anything more, his face tilted toward hers, as if drawn by an invisible force. The temptation to kiss her, to bridge the space between them, was too strong. His lips brushed against hers in the gentlest way.

But Naomi jerked back, her eyes wide, hands pushing against his chest. “Don’t,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

Ethan froze. The rawness of her rejection hit him like a punch. But something in her eyes made him step back, his heart pounding in his chest.

Naomi didn’t wait for him to say anything. Without another word, she pushed past him and disappeared into the darkness of the balcony.

Ethan watched her leave, the weight of her absence pressing down on him. He should have seen this coming. He should’ve known she wouldn’t just fall into his world without a fight.

But deep down, part of him couldn’t help but wonder—was this a fight he was ready to win?