Page 5 of Faster

Her mother would make her the strongest Cuban coffee on planet Earth, and they would figure out where her life would go next. But she knew it would be smaller than it was now. It would be anonymous and safe. That’s what her mother had retreated to after kicking her father out.

Cece had always craved more. She’d been searching for excitement from the moment she’d gained even the tiniest bit of freedom.

And, as much as she hated the press, she loved the notoriety that came with being married to Ethan.

She loved getting to go on influencer trips.

She loved the free stuff. The spas that wanted her to come in just so they could say she’d had a facial there. She liked the money.

She never would have gotten this from modeling.

The few supermodels who existed were either the children of supermodels or other nepo baby varietals.

She was always going to have to marry someone the world actually thought mattered to live the life she wanted to live.

That was the deal she’d struck when she quit college and started bartending and taking print jobs.

She’d decided that she wasn’t a serious person before the world could make that clear to her.

The flat was quiet, and Cece wondered if Ethan was even there. Maybe he’d gotten up after fucking that other woman and gone elsewhere to party. She walked into her bedroom, hoping that was the case.

No such luck.

Ethan sat on the bed with his hair messed up from sleep.

It was getting a bit too long, and it fell over one of his eyes.

He didn’t look at her right away. His face had creases in it where it had been stuck to the pillow.

Cece found it difficult to look at him, but she didn’t flinch.

She wouldn’t show how hurt she was by what he’d done. She didn’t even know if he remembered.

He looked up at her, brow furrowed. “Where’d you go last night?” He didn’t sound as posh in the morning with his normally sharp consonants dulled by sleep and substances.

Instead of throwing the stupid sculpture his mom had insisted putting on the credenza at his stupid, cheating head, Cece clenched her fist. “Where’d the slut go?”

Ethan’s face went blank and confused. Maybe he was still a little high. “Slut?”

“Yeah, the skank you were railing on my side of the bed when I came looking for you last night. You were going to miss the countdown for our best year ever as a married couple, but I guess you found someone else to kiss.”

Cece watched as panic set in on her husband’s face. He’d blacked out. But he’d still done enough drugs and had enough to drink that he wouldn’t remember, so Cece held him responsible.

“You didn’t even think about the fact that someone could show up and test you for drugs at any time.”

“I was in my own house. Those were old friends.” He stood up and approached her, but she backed away. His torso seemed even more lean than usual this morning—a product of dehydration probably. “That had to be more than coke.”

Cece walked into the bathroom. “Don’t follow me.”

Of course, he didn’t listen. “You have to believe me.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” She tried to slam the door in his face, but he wouldn’t let her. “I need to shower, and I need to not kill you. I need to be alone for both of those things.”

“Just listen to me.” He sounded plaintive—weak. In that moment, she wondered why she’d ever been in love with him. She wanted to be back at Luca’s condo. She never should have left his bed.

“I don’t want to hear whatever you have to say.”

She took off her clothes and hoped that Luca had given her a visible hickey or bruise from his fingers somewhere.

Part of her wanted Ethan to see that someone else wanted her.

But that was not a smart part of her. She needed to be the long-suffering wife, not the petty, cheating bitch who fucked his former best friend an hour after finding him with another woman.

But he didn’t say anything as she stepped into the frosted-glass shower enclosure. She turned on the water so hot, it would burn her skin off. Hot enough to burn her sins away.

“Are you just going to divorce me without even letting me explain what happened?” Ethan asked, rubbing the last of the sleep out of his piercing blue eyes.

They could see each other’s faces. He rubbed his hands through his already messy, light-brown hair until it stuck up every which way.

It still looked good—it always looked good—and she hated him for that on top of all the other things she hated him for.

And he’d asked a valid question. Was she going to divorce him? Last night, her answer would have been unequivocal and affirmative. But this morning, with her own transgression still buzzing in her bloodstream, she wasn’t so sure.

As she cleaned her body, she remembered Luca’s hands and mouth on her, his skin against hers.

And she looked at her husband, a man who’d given her so much pleasure over the past five years that he was imprinted somewhere in her DNA.

She’d carry a piece of him everywhere, no matter what happened in their marriage.

But she was so fucking angry at him. Maybe even angrier than she was at herself. For trusting him and then for reacting the way she did when he betrayed that trust.

If she just divorced him, she wouldn’t get much.

His parents had insisted on the prenup. At the time, Cece hadn’t thought too much of it.

She’d known that she could make her own way, no matter what.

And she’d been so in love with Ethan that the idea that their marriage would end had been fantastical to her—like the existence of dragons or orcs.

Ethan chose that moment to look into her eyes. “Stay with me.”

“I don’t know.” She really didn’t know, and she was even less sure when he walked over to the shower.

She was still hopelessly attracted to the man standing in front of her.

They might have gotten too comfortable in their relationship and grown apart, but the connection between them persisted.

Even her cells betrayed her at that moment.

“Give me until the end of summer break. It will never happen again.”

“Why the end of summer break?” If his answer was what she suspected, she might just be setting herself up to get played. He might be using the fact that she’d always wanted the life he gave her to get her to stay. It would have nothing to do with not being able to bear the thought of losing her.

“You know my contract is up at the end of the season. With the new girl coming in and taking the other seat, I need to make sure that I’m not painted as an asshole cheater in the press.”

It definitely wasn’t because he loved her or that he wanted to make things work. Fucking prick. “How much?” She knew he already had a number in his head for how much he was willing to pay to save his reputation. Ethan always had a plan.

“Enough so that you can live comfortably and never work again.”

“I want half the money you make from your next contract.”

Ethan was one of the highest paid drivers on the grid. He’d won the championship twice at the beginning of his career, and that gave him significant power in the market. She might walk away with very little if she left him now, but half of his next contract would set her up for life.

Maybe she’d buy a little cottage in a small town in the South of France.

No one she didn’t like would ever hear from or see her again outside of an occasional appearance at Paris Fashion Week.

She’d wear nothing but silk and cashmere and have ten dogs and a couple of horses.

She’d read smutty books and drink rosé in the afternoons. She would never trust a man again.

Her life would be lonely, but perfect.

“Fine,” Cece said. Ethan’s face eased in relief. “But don’t talk to me and definitely don’t touch me unless it’s for the cameras.”