MARRIED TO THE WRONG MAN

Chapter 4

Camilla's pov

The sun was an intruder. It cut through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, hitting my eyes and making my head throb.

I groaned, shifting under the heavy silk duvet, expecting the cold, empty expanse of my bed on the forty-ninth floor.

Instead, my hand hit warm, solid muscle.

My breath caught. The memories of last night didn’t flood back all at once—they came in jagged, electric flashes. The taste of gin and expensive bourbon. The rough press of the glass wall against my back. Ethan’s hands, usually so distant, holding me like I was the only thing keeping him steady.

I turned my head slowly. Ethan was asleep beside me, his face soft from exhaustion. No smirk, no arrogance. He looked… human. Watching the rise and fall of his chest, I felt something unfamiliar - something soft, almost dangerous.

Did I actually enjoy that?

It hadn’t just been s*x. It had been a release. A collision of two lonely people who were tired of pretending.

I reached out, my fingers hovering near his jaw. A strange warmth bloomed in my chest, a quiet whisper that maybe, just maybe, this forced marriage didn’t have to be a cage. Maybe we could find real love.

Then, his eyes snapped open.

The softness vanished. He didn’t look at me with affection. He looked at me with sharp, piercing clarity, like he could see everything I was hiding.

“Ethan,” I said softly, forcing a small, shy smile. “Good morning.”

He didn’t smile back. He sat up, the sheets falling to his waist, and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at me like I was a problem he’d solved and now found boring.

“Don’t do that, Camilla,” he said, his voice cold.

“Do what?”

“The smile. The voice. The ‘newlywed’ act,” he snapped, swinging his legs out of bed and standing. He didn’t bother covering himself.

He walked toward the bathroom, rigid, unbothered. “Last night was a mistake. Alcohol and your boyfriend’s betrayal made it happen. Don’t turn it into some romantic awakening.”

The warmth in my chest died. Cold, stinging ache replaced it.

“I wasn’t turning it into anything,” I said. “I was just trying to be civil.”

He stopped at the bathroom door, smirk twisting his lips. “Civil? Please. Let’s be honest… we aren’t meant for each other. You’re too rigid and honestly? You suck in bed. No wonder Liam didn’t love you. He probably stayed for the data, because there certainly wasn’t enough heat here to keep him interested.”

The mention of Liam hit like a physical blow. A wound I couldn’t defend against.

“You’re a pig,” I whispered, shaking.

“And you’re a corporate drone who just realized she isn’t indispensable,” he shot back. “Go back to your floor, Camilla. This changes nothing.”

I didn’t wait. I scrambled out of bed, grabbed my clothes, and fled. I didn’t stop until I locked myself in my bedroom on the forty-ninth floor, gasping as hot, angry tears finally fell.

The rest of Saturday passed in a blur. I buried myself in server logs, trying to trace the damage Liam had done, but my mind kept flashing to the look in Ethan’s eyes when he insulted me.

A knock interrupted my spiral. It was my younger sister, Ceci. She was the only one who could bypass the penthouse security without an invitation.

“You look like hell,” she said, dropping her designer bag on my sofa. “The news says you’re the most loved woman in tech, but your face says you’re ready to jump off a balcony.”

“It’s been a long week, Ceci,” I said, rubbing my temples. “What are you doing here? Need money again?”

Ceci rolled her eyes. “Always so cynical. I haven’t seen my big sister since she became a ‘Golden Bride.’ Also, yes, the Chelsea gallery is over budget, but that’s secondary. I came to see if the rumors were true.”

“What rumors?”

“That you and Ethan actually like each other. That kiss at the Pierre? People say it wasn’t just for show.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Ethan Sterling is a narcissist who uses people. We were only acting up for the public, nothing more. That kiss… was a mistake.”

“A mistake? Camilla, you’ve been judicious since you were five. You don’t have lapses,” Ceci said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re blushing. Oh my god… you actually like him.”

“I do not like him! I hate him,” I snapped, maybe too loudly.

“Whatever, Sis.” She said, “I only came to see for myself.”

She spent just an hour and left. By evening, the penthouse was no longer quiet.

I was in the kitchen, eating a salad, when I heard laughter. High-pitched, feminine, and grating. I went to the stairs. Ethan was on the fiftieth floor, but he hadn’t stayed there. He lounged on the neutral-ground sofa with three women I didn’t know.

The air smelled of perfume, glasses clinked. One blonde leaned over him, whispering while his hand rested casually on her back.

Heat surged through me, blurring my vision.

I marched up the stairs, heels clicking on marble. “Ethan. A word.”

He didn’t look at me. “Make it quick, Camilla. We’re celebrating.”

“I said before,” I said, voice low, “the lifestyle clause. If you want to behave like a child, do it in a hotel. This penthouse belongs to both of us. Have some respect.”

He finally looked at me, eyes lazy and mocking. “I pay most of the HOA, darling. I entertain where I want. Don’t like the view? Close your door.”

I hissed in frustration and stomped back to my floor, slamming the door hard. I collapsed on my bed, staring at the ceiling. My heart raced, skin tight, my mind chaotic.

I tried thinking about OmniCorp, the board meeting, my father’s legacy. But all I saw was the way Ethan looked at that girl. All I felt was the ghost of his touch from last night.

I told myself I wasn’t jealous. I was just offended. He was arrogant, disrespectful, and a mistake.

But as laughter from above floated down, a cold, sinking feeling settled in my stomach. I wasn’t just angry. I was hurting.

And I realized something terrifying.

Despite the insults, the rivalry, and the fact he was with someone else… I wanted him to come back downstairs.

I wanted the man who had held me against the glass.

I lay there in the dark, silence pressing in. I didn’t just hate Ethan Sterling. I was falling for him.