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CHAPTER FORTY – EIGHT: TOUCH BY HIM ROSE AMARA'S POV I told the doctor I wanted to go home later that day. To be more precise, I told him that I wasn't around to attend to any illnesses in any case. When Ethan enters, he stays at the entrance and I'm about to change. I have done everything I can to keep myself apart from him for the past few days. I not only planned my amnesia meticulously. Therefore, he exists in a period of my life that I don't recall, but I also actively tried to push him away. Since I faked panic episodes, I really ought to win acting prizes. The first day, though? The one that made me cry? Yes, those tears weren't just for show. I had to find a way to describe the betrayal because it was so real and visceral. I glared at him, but I quickly broke eye contact because I shouldn't be glaring at a stranger. It's riskier since Ethan is overly perceptive because it's not obvious outdoors. When he observes everything around him, he exudes a casual air. He's a killer, which contributes to it in part, and he's also inherently suspicious, which contributes to it in part. If I even slightly let my defenses down, he'll jump on me. I have to be careful as I push him away because of that. "The doctor says you can leave for home now. You may stay longer if you're not feeling well." I pointed at the outfit I was going to put on before he came in and said, "I'm good. I need to get dressed, so please let me out." He took two steps to get to me. "I'll help." 'No. Just give me some space." I make an effort to ignore how close he is and how, given the height difference, his frame is almost perching over mine. His damp hair rests on his broad, muscular forehead. He must have showered, changed, and returned immediately. He can act like he cares about me and my welfare, but I'm not a dupe who will fall for it after he's been using me for his own gain the entire time. Ethan made no effort to leave. Instead, he invades my space until his fresh, recognizable aroma fills the air, and then, without warning, he imprisons me with his presence. Being trapped by him has a certain allure. Except for the location where he is standing, the world becomes hazy and oxygen stops being present. That is not at all hazy. It's actually brighter, glossier, and more transparent. However, not everything that is visible is lovely. After all, when enticing his victims, the devil looks his best. "Did you miss what I just said?" I try not to sound overly assertive so as not to raise any questions, yet my voice doesn't lose its edge. "Yes, Princess, I heard what you said. However, I'm staying." "Why on earth wouldn't you?" "Because I promised to help." "I don't need your assistance." He reaches out to take my arm, but I defy him and jerk away, saying, "Yes, you do. Look at how you're barely standing." "I'll get support from Eya." "Why Eya?" "She is my guard, so why not?" "I am your husband, too." He says those things with such assurance that it nearly gives me the impression that they are true and that he has a special place in his cold, dark heart for me, wishing for the best, then similar to everything else about him. "You are not my husband. I've never met you." He turns me around and undoes the flimsy thing securing my hospital robe, saying, "Then you will get to know me." My knees are touched by the thin stuff, which then collects around my feet on the ground. I make an effort to make my body feel cold and numb like he made me feel. My body isn't a separate entity, thus it doesn't matter how much he touches me or how much I once experienced from his hands. My brain understands that he deceived me initially, since it is related to my brain. First, he broke the law. After the doctor removed the soft brace, Ethan's fingers encircle my nape and he examines the flesh there. His grip is gentle. The wound stings, but I suppress my emotion to save him from witnessing my anguish. He's caressing me in an odd way, I think. No, it's not that he feels me in this way; rather, it's that he isn't acting sexually as he usually does. He examines my skin with his fingertips as if relearning how to use it. He might be remembering something. Maybe it was he who choked me. I wouldn't be surprised if he had been, but given that he was speaking inside space, he couldn't have been. "Whose hands did you feel on you?" His voice had a menacing quality to it. "Did you miss the doctor's words? I can't recall." "I swear to track down the person who touched you and kill them in front of your eyes, whether you remember it or not." "I can kill people without your help." I stop, unsure if saying I can take care of myself will reveal my true identity. But when he speaks, I can hear the smile in his voice. "Some things remain the same." Phew. "But as your husband, I'll get back at you." "I don't need retribution." His tone breaks, "But Princess, retribution is my strong suit." When he refers to me in that way, my heart pounds. "Princess. Being the boss's daughter at first made it a derogatory epithet, but ever since he returned, it has taken on more significance than it ever should have." "I'm not your princess," she said. Still being gentle and considerate, he grabs my bra and slides it up my arms. "You are, indeed. Moreover, you are my wife. "I don't recall getting married to you." "Although there was a tragic event at the conclusion of the wedding, I doubt you would want to witness it. I can show you the registration documents or the video shot during the marriage when you said I do." He secures my bra with a strap before wrapping his arm around me and tracing his fingers over my tender breast tissue. The initial touch is tentative, almost innocent. However, there is nothing explicit about Ethan, so I should have known better. He pretends to be holding the bra strap in place while his fingers linger longer and get more exploratory. He places his hand on my shoulder, moves it to my back, and then brings it back to the front. It takes all I have to keep still. It's a chemical reaction and foolish hormones, not me. Ethan is not to blame, right? Even if someone else were to do this, I would still react in the same way. He slips the garment up my arms while placing his hand around my waist as my legs tremble as I step into it. His fingers press down on my hipbone and stroke it back and forth. My body remembers when he used to have me wear that toy and do that to me. No. I yell, "Stop touching me in that manner." As he slides the dress up, his eyes sparkle. Which way? " "Like you're molesting me," I said. He makes a funny sounding chuckle. "Given that you are my wife, it is not possible." "Well, I think I was assaulted." "How so? I'm just assisting you with dressing very casually." "You aren't assisting me with getting dressed. You're persuading me." His lips brush my ear, and he says, "That's because I missed you, Princess." It's impossible to ignore the shudder that violently spreads through my skin. I try to push him away, but I trip as I do so. With an annoying sneer tugging at his lips, Ethan grabs my arm. "This is what happens when you reject the assistance offered to you," he said. "I claimed I didn't need your help." "Are we back where we were at the beginning of our relationship? Should I make another attempt to woo you? " "Although I doubt you've ever wooed me, you could try." "Oh yes, I did. You did, after all, call my name every night." "Won't occur once more." "Let's see." "I can guarantee you won't succeed," he said. Ethan approaches me from behind and, seemingly taking pleasure in the act, painstakingly raises the dress' zipper. His fingers move across the middle of my back, causing goosebumps to spread across my flesh. To prevent myself from reacting, I bite my bottom lip. He won't get the satisfaction of seeing how I respond to him, I promise. His voice takes on a low, menacing edge. "You underestimate me, Princess.You seriously underrate me." "It makes no difference what you do. I would never be seduced by you." "You already did once." "I don't think so." "How could you?" Even though I'm tempted to put my hair up in a bun, I flip it back instead. I turn to face him and look him square in the eyes. "You're not my type." Although he smirks, there is no comedy about it. I fit everyone's profile. "You might as well divorce me, you conceited jerk." Ethan wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me up against his angular ridges. As a distinct bulge presses against the bottom of my tummy, I gasp. "That won't take place. Understand why? " I don't want to learn, thus the answer is "no." "I want to tell you something. Although I may not be your type, you are mine. He'll undoubtedly make this difficult. I consider that, not the fact that he claimed I am his type. Lies....He lies about every single thing he says. When I try to escape, he grabs hold of my hip and holds me there while directing me away from the hospital and toward his car. Following us, Eya and Zeth ask me in a low voice if they should get involved. I politely shook my head at the no. I can fight, act out, or pretend to have a panic attack, but those are only band-aid fixes. I had to play his games to make sure my plan worked. The paradox. Ethan and I can only agree on video games. The ball was on my court this time, but he was always one step ahead. This time, his world will be turned upside down.