Page 8 of The Enemy of My Enemy Is… My Fake Boyfriend?

Fuck him.

Anger pulsing through my every pore, I grabbed a handful of those suits and yanked them off the rod, hangers spilling out and clattering to the floor. I stormed out of the closet, out of the bedroom, and headed straight for the balcony.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ethan said, suddenly by my side, his hand on the French doors. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

"Quit calling me that!" Juggling my armload of clothes, I wrestled with a doorknob. "And what the hell does it look like I'm doing?"

"I'm guessing you want to throw those off the balcony, right?"

"Damn right I do."

"What if you hurt someone below?"

"It's not like I'm throwing out a couch. It's clothing."

"You could still hurt someone. What if a shirt lands on a windshield, impeding the driver's vision, and then they hit someone? Even kill someone?"

I heaved out a sigh. "Fine. Give me your lighter and I'll burn them."

"Uh, not sure that's the best idea either."

Dropping the load, I placed both hands on my hips, the need to do something,anything, overwhelming me. "Then what wouldyousuggest?"

He studied the scenery behind me for a beat before his eyes met mine again, the hint of a smile playing about his lips. "Cut them up."

Three

Ethan

Her eyes lit up at my suggestion, and she stormed off toward the kitchen. I watched her as she walked away, her feet bare, her dress completely ruined. If someone had told me I'd be a witness to this scenario, I would have never believed it in a million years. Not even in my wildest dreams.

Aria Stratton stomping around like literally something the cat dragged in, her hair a soaked, tangled mess, her eye makeup smeared and streaking down her cheeks. She almost didn't even look real, like she was a character come to life in a movie, facing some kind of fight to the death.

As if her physical appearance wasn't unbelievable enough, she was alsoactingcompletely unhinged, something I never thought I'd see. Usually, she appeared so perfect, so together, New York's glamorous it girl who flashed her pretty smile and got whatever she wanted handed to her.

And tonight had started that way at the event, Aria making the rounds, a smile and meaningless chit chat for everyone... except me. She'd always hated me. Being Chase's fiancée, of course she would.

But after witnessing that frantic call she'd placed to her sister, her entire persona had shattered before me until she'd transformed into this vengeful angel hellbent on destruction.

That was part of the reason I wanted to stick around... to see what this "perfect" girl was capable of, to watch this crazy spiral and maybe save her from herself if needed. I'd already stopped her from flinging stuff off the balcony and burning the place down.

She rushed around the corner, back into my sight, knives and scissors in one hand and a bottle of alcohol in the other. Jesus fucking Christ. Aria meant business.

When I'd suggested cutting up Chase's shit, I hadn't thought she'd actually do it.

Dropping her arsenal near my feet, she took a long swig from the bottle. Vodka. Just straight out of the bottle. I wanted to laugh at the sight. Man, if I took a picture right now, I couldn't imagine how much money I'd get selling it to a tabloid.

The world would be shocked to see Aria Stratton like this, the exact opposite of the carefully curated image she always presented.Iwas shocked. And it took a lot to surprise me. Most people didn't surprise me at all.

After all, I'd learned at a young age that no one in this world could be trusted. Everyone had a bad side. It was just a matter of how much they hid it.

After watching her guzzle down a ridiculous amount, I grabbed the bottle from her. "I'll hold it. You've got some work to do."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her lipstick smudged around her face, resembling crazed clown makeup. Her eyes held a glint of determination as she reached for the scissors, then grabbed a dark suit jacket.

There was a strange pause in the air, and I wondered if she was having second thoughts. But then she dove right in, cutting a sleeve off with three vicious snips. She cut off the other, then went for the back, running into some trouble cutting through the material.

"Grrr," she growled in frustration, dropping the scissors and now reaching for a knife.

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