Chapter 2Gradually drifting away

When I arrived at the hotel, I finally answered Ethan's call.

"Ava, what are you doing?" he hissed, his voice a chaotic mix of panic and rage. "When did we get divorced? Why am I finding out about this from a TMZ alert?"

He only ever used my full name when he was furious. The last time was when I’d thrown a glass of red wine in Scarlett May's face.

"Right now," I said, and knocked on his door.

It swung open. There he was, phone in hand, our eyes locking. He was shirtless, with only a white hotel towel wrapped around his waist. I could see every cut of his six-pack, the sharp V of his hips, and the faint, fresh scratch marks on his arms.

"What are you doing here?"

I ignored him, pushing past into the suite and tossing the divorce papers onto the marble coffee table. "Sign them."

Ethan picked them up, glanced through them, and then tossed them onto the couch. He let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his perfectly messy hair. "Is this because of the movie? The scenes with Scarlett? It's acting, Ava."

He sighed, the picture of exhaustion. "Look, I'm tired. Can you please not be dramatic right now?"

"Ethan," I said, my voice low, "no intimate scenes. That was the deal we made when we got married."

Ethan’s possessiveness was legendary. Any script that came my way with so much as a kiss, he’d either turn it down on my behalf or force the director to rewrite it. Once, during a scene, my co-star got caught up in the moment and improvised a kiss on my cheek. The next day, the actor was replaced. He hasn't worked since.

Ethan Hayes has always been a possessive, controlling monster.

But now, for another woman, he had broken his own sacred rule. He gave Scarlett a privilege he'd always denied me. That was all the proof I needed.

His expression hardened for a moment before melting back into a practiced smile. He stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my waist and nibbling on my earlobe. "This was a one-time thing. It won't happen again, okay? As for this divorce nonsense, I don't want to hear another word about it, understand?"

I was about to push him away when a saccharine, girly voice drifted from the other room.

"Ethan, honey, I think the shower drain is clogged…"

"Oh! Ava! What are you doing here?"

Scarlett May stood in the doorway, wearing a silk slip that barely covered her. Her long hair was damp and tousled, and a constellation of fresh hickeys dotted her neck. Noticing my gaze, she nervously tugged at the hem of her slip, a gesture that only made her look guiltier.

Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink. She bit her lip, the picture of innocence. "Ava, it's not what it looks like between me and Ethan…"

Ethan instinctively reached for the suit jacket on the couch, about to cover her up.

I was faster. I whipped out my phone, the camera flash firing several times.

"Sign the papers," I said, my voice cold as ice. "Or these photos go straight to every gossip blog in the country. Let's see... 'Hollywood's Golden Boy Caught in Hotel Tryst with Rising Starlet.' How does that headline sound?"

He let out an irritated hiss. "She got drunk at the wrap party last night. It wasn't safe for her to go home alone, so I brought her here. Nothing happened."

I ignored his pathetic excuse. "You have three seconds."

"Three."

"Two…"

He snatched the papers off the couch, scrawled his signature across the line, and threw them at me. "There. Are you done playing games?"

I nodded, picked up my copy, and turned to leave.

"Ava," he called out from behind me, his voice laced with a weary frustration. "You never used to be like this. When did you become so unreasonable?"

I froze. It was the exact same thing he’d said the first time I met Scarlett.