Page 107 of The Plus One Contract

Daniel’s brows draw together.

“I didn’t scream because I was so out of my mind with passion, Daniel. You always got insecure when I was quiet. So, I did it to stop the constant questions. The fragile ego stroking.”

His jaw flexes.

I sigh, the weight of every faked moan, every eye-roll-inducingWas it good for you?comes crashing down all at once.

“So, if you’re still closing your eyes and pretending it’s me? At least now you’ll know the difference.”

His face darkens, but I don’t wait for a reaction.

I turn to leave, but this time, his hand wraps around my wrist.

Bad fucking move.

Without thinking, I yank my arm free and shove.

He stumbles back, misjudging his footing, and falls straight into the pool. There’s a sharp splash, water sloshing over the edges, and I barely manage to step back in time to avoid getting soaked.

“Oh,” is all I manage to let out.

He resurfaces instantly, coughing and spluttering, and all I can do is stand here, wide eyes and mouth falling open. Water crashes over the edge of the pool as he hauls himself out, his expensive suit clinging to his body, dripping onto the stone tiles. He looks like a drowned rat, all anger and humiliation, his hair slicked back from his forehead.

I don’t stick around to watch him gather what’s left of his pride or the retort I know is going to be strong on his tongue. I turn toward the steps leading back to the terrace, needing space, needing air, needing to put as much distance between myself and him as possible.

I don’t make it far.

Heavy footfalls approach from the other direction.

Nathan.

He steps onto the pool deck, still in his black dress pants and crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, no jacket in sight. His eyes flick from me to Daniel—soaking, seething, fists clenching at his sides—and then snap back to me.

Nathan’s entire body stiffens.

“What the fuck is going on?” His voice is steady, but I hear the razor-sharp edge beneath it.

I open my mouth, but Daniel beats me to it. “You should ask your girlfriend.”

“Shut your fucking mouth. I wasn’t asking you.” Nathan’s jaw tics. His shoulders go tight. His hands curl into fists.

Oh, shit.

I don’t need to see his face to know what’s happening. I feel it—the same barely controlled storm I saw when we were standing in his mother’s kitchen.

He steps forward.

Daniel doesn’t move, his drenched clothes dripping onto the tile, his eyes locked onto Nathan’s with a knowing look. Like he wants this. Like he welcomes it.

Nathan is two steps away from making that mistake.

I move without thinking, stepping between them, pressing my hand flat against Nathan’s chest.

His heart is pounding.

“Sienna,” he says, voice taut with restraint.

I shake my head. “No, stop.”

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