Page 80 of Inflame

I stay leaning against the wall as I try to make sense of what just happened.

Did I witness something that is a normal act between them? Or was Ethan simply showing off—in his weird and demented power move?

I head down to the bar. I don’t expect alcohol to fix my mood, but at least it will help numb my mind. I call Tyler while I wait for the bartender to fix my drink. After background checking all of Asher’s list of contacts he sent me, Tyler is by far the most qualified to be my information gatherer. He is discreet, thorough, and persistent. Plus, Asher has interacted with him personally on some work and that level of recommendation is invaluable.

“Any more information?” I ask him.

“Yeah, I’ll email it to you. You have to see this,” he goads.

“Better be worthwhile.” We have only chatted a few times and instantly I can tell that his pride motivates him to excel. I don’t mind his confidence, if he can follow through like he has been.

“Oh, it is. That’s why you owe me a bonus.” He is one of those guys who can get away with a relaxed attitude on the job, because he is that good and isn’t doing this at all for the money.

I can sense the smile in his voice. “A proactive one?”

“That’s the best kind.”

I roll my eyes and take the first sip of my bourbon, ending the call. The smoothness coats my throat as it slides down. The subtle hints of vanilla make me think of one woman and one woman only.

I sit in silence, thinking about how Claire got herself involved with a man like Maxwell. I guess I started this whole thing in motion by accepting the applications for him and Claire for the agency. At the time, I had no idea that she was connected with someone Graham would later fall in love with. She was a member of Entice months before Angie walked into my office, looking innocent and pure. I guess opposites attract, because Graham sure isn’t either of those things.

I check my email and open the links that Tyler sent. As promised, he delivered. I scan through the list of residences that Ethan owns. The apartment that he and Claire share is the least luxurious—a downgrade from his other two properties. Shit. I knew he was hiding money from her and was keeping control over her by offering her a meager allowance, but this is pretty messed up. Tyler has been keeping tabs loosely on his whereabouts and confirms Ethan spends much of his time at a residence that probably is unknown to Claire.

Is he living a double life? Back with his ex-wife? Or just waiting for someone better than his current girlfriend to come along?

I take another sip and play with the little cocktail napkin, spinning my gold ring on my finger. The more I learn about Ethan Maxwell, the more I realize that he is a top-notch abuser. He may have fooled Graham and me in the beginning, but I am done putting on blinders where he is concerned. He probably saw something in Claire that gave him the impression that he could control her, thus making it easy for him to get away with his abusive nature. He probably gets off on making her feel vulnerable.

Sometimes it is the women who appear the strongest who are hurting the most inside. To the world, they can accomplish anything with their confidence and fire. However, deep inside, they are suffering from the shitty hand of cards they were dealt.

I didn’t rescue Claire from her abusive boyfriend back in their hotel room. No, I just set her up to be abused by him more.

Fuck.

And by simply creating a setting for her to see what the asshole is capable of doing, I ultimately helped facilitate her pain. Sure, maybe now she will finally leave him—with a clean break—but was it worth it?

Women like Claire need a reason to justify leaving. There. There’s her reason. Surely him accepting a bet with me where she is involved will be enough for her to finally see the light.

But I’m no saint either. I stopped being a hero when Tara fucked with my sense of security. Unfortunately, all the women after her suffer the consequences of her betrayal.

When you grow up with a mother who is the epitome of perfect and a baby sister who can do no wrong, it is easy to disillusion yourself into believing that all women are created equal. It is easy to think only men cheat. That only men use their sexual prowess to get what they want. But then came Tara. And she shattered the lenses in the rose-colored glasses I chose to wear our entire relationship.

I want Claire to be Tara. I want her to stray away from one bastard, just to join the bed of another. I want no strings. I want no commitment. I want one hundred percent pleasure.

I am not so fucked up that I don’t realize how fucked up my selection process is of choosing women to entertain my bed. I simply have no clue on how to stop the comfort cycle that life’s circumstances have put me in.

Maybe I wasn’t dealt a bad hand in this life…

Maybe I just played the cards I did have all wrong.

I look across the bar and see the sad eyes of the woman I just left. It is her resilience and fiery personality that draws me to her, and yet, the only person I see right now is someone who looks defeated.

I try to turn away from her pain before she catches sight of me, but I can’t. Everything inside me wants to absolve myself from any responsibility—pinning her hollowed expression on the bastard she is dating. And yet, I know that I had my part in making her be this broken.

Finding her name in my text app, I type out a message.

Nic: I never thought he would accept the bet. You can hate me. I won’t blame you.

Claire doesn’t even have the sense to look up from the bar, yet from the little dots dancing across my screen, I know she is about to respond.

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