His Best Friend's Widow

PART

**POV: Lila**

When they lowered his coffin into the ground, I didn't cry.

My legs trembled. I felt as though I was keeping myself from collapsing by keeping my hands clasped together in front of me. No tears, though. Nothing but quiet. And it wasn't grief that caused the heat between my legs, on my neck, or in my chest. The man next to me told me everything.

Cole, Ethan.

The best friend of my deceased husband.

I wasn't touched by him. At no point during the funeral. But he gave me a look. As if he was aware. As if he sensed it too.

He handed me a folded piece of tissue, and his palm touched mine. My breath caught not because of the tissue. Warm, rough, and lingering longer than necessary, it was his fingers.

I shouldn't have experienced any emotions.

I had just laid my husband to rest.

However, I experienced everything.

Fear, hunger, and guilt.

And despite the priest's words, the fictitious prayers, and the white roses that were placed atop Richard's coffin, Ethan's gaze remained fixed on me.

He waited until everyone had left-until my parents had gone, until the pathetic coworkers had gone, until the sound of wood hitting dirt had turned to silence.

Then he said something.

"This evening, you shouldn't be by yourself."

He spoke softly. The way Richard used to speak was different. Richard let out a bark. managed. demanded.

Ethan remained composed. steady. His words encircled me like cozy blankets.

I took a swallow. "I'm all right."

"No, you're not."

I looked over at him. His outfit was too flawless. His jaw was too clenched. Nor had he shed a tear.

I remarked, "You didn't even like him."

He twitched his jaw. "I held him in high regard."

"Is that the nature of this?" I gave a sour laugh. "Decency?"

His gaze fell to my lips.

"No," he replied. "There's more to this."

He took a step toward her. I gasped.

There was nobody in the cemetery. It was just the wind rustling the grass and Ethan and me.

I muttered, "I shouldn't."

"No," he concurred. "You ought not to."

However, neither of us made any movement.

The heat surged through me once more, sharper and lower, as his fingers touched my cheek. Richard hadn't touched me in that way in months. It hasn't felt like anything in years.

He said, "Come home with me."

My heart struck my ribs hard.

"I can't," I uttered.

"Then I'll accompany you."

I started to respond negatively. However, the word never arrived.

since I didn't want to be by myself. I didn't wish to recall. I didn't want my home's silence to consume me.

Furthermore, I didn't want Ethan to stop staring at me in the same manner as he was right now.

I gave a nod.

On the drive back, he remained silent. Nothing but quiet. The wheel is in one hand. The other was on the equipment.

And me?

I was unable to look away.

Those forearm muscles. The strain his suit put on his chest. He had a rich, clean, and deep scent. Not at all like Richard's stale cologne.

With trembling hands, I unlocked the door when we arrived at my house. As if he had done it a hundred times, Ethan followed me inside. Perhaps he had.

There were no lights on. The throw blanket Richard detested was still on the couch. From the mantel, the picture of our wedding day gazed at me.

I flipped it over.

"Are you hungry?" My voice was too high as I asked.

Ethan remained silent.

Rather, he approached me slowly and deliberately, as if he had endless time.

Once more, he reached for my cheek. slid into my hair after that.

He said, "You don't need to be strong right now."

I glanced up at him.

Something broke inside of me.

I then gave him a kiss.

It was crazy. Warm. False. So incorrect. I felt something genuine for the first time in a long time, though, as his arms encircled me and his mouth opened against mine.

My back struck the wall. He ran his lips down my neck. Trembling and hungry, my hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

He was helpful to me. Silently. Gently.

Then his hungry lips found their way back to mine. In a desperate situation.

Clothes fall to the ground.

I didn't give a damn.

This was what I needed.

I asked him.

With a sort of reverence that made me want to cry, he lifted me up as if I were weightless, carried me to the couch, and laid me down.

His lips first touched my collarbone, then moved down until I was out of breath. until I moaned his name into the silent house as my nails dug into his back.

He went slowly, as if he wanted to savor every moment.

I gave him permission.

Because I wanted to erase all other memories.

And I wasn't a widow in those moments-tangled, gasping for air, hurting. I wasn't damaged.

I was only Lila.

He was Ethan, too.

For a long time, we remained skin to skin, our hearts too loud.

But when I saw the envelope, the moment fell apart.

The coffee table held it. White. sealed.

using the handwriting of Richard.

I went cold.

Ethan looked after me.

He remained motionless.

I said, "You knew something."

He shut his eyes.

"Lila-"

"You had some knowledge about Richard prior to his passing."

I only needed his silence as an answer.

With my heart thumping with fresh terror, I sat up and wrapped the throw blanket around myself.

"Ethan, what did you do?"

He didn't respond.

But I could tell everything I needed to know from his face.

All of a sudden, I no longer felt secure.

Not with him.

Not here at home.

Not with this reality hidden behind a kiss.

Ethan repeated, "You're not ready to know the truth," in a hard, low voice that was a warning and a confession all at once.

My fingers gripped the envelope as if it were going to pierce my flesh.

"So, what brings you here?" My voice cracked as I asked.

His jaw did not loosen, but his eyes did soften. Since I didn't want you to be by yourself. Since I've always-

He halted himself.

I waited.

He did not, however, complete the sentence. Rather, he took a step back, as though separating us would reverse our recent actions. His chest rose and fell quickly as his shirt hung open. So did mine.

I said, "I think you should go."

Ethan remained silent. With a single nod, he turned to face the door.

But he stopped in the middle.

"Lila, I didn't kill him."

I felt sick to my stomach.

His eyes were heavy as he glanced over his shoulder. "But I also didn't stop what happened."

Behind him, the door clicked shut.

And with my heart thumping so loudly that I could hardly hear my own thoughts, I stood there, gazing at the location where he had just been.

That evening, I didn't open the envelope.

I made an effort. My fingers repeatedly touched the edge. However, images of Ethan's mouth on mine, his words prior to his departure, and the weight in his eyes when he stated that he didn't stop it kept coming back to me.

What was meant by that?

With my blanket tightly wrapped, I curled up on the couch and gazed at the fireplace until the room grew dark and engulfed everything.

There was no sleep.

Just recollections.

Ethan's hands, too.

Like a slow golden slap, morning light filtered through the curtains. I groaned as I pushed off the couch. The cold leather hurt my body, but my heart hurt more.

Richard had left.

Ethan was secretive.

And I didn't know what to do.

On the coffee table, my phone buzzed.

**Unknown Phone Number: "We must speak. Right now. **

My heart skipped a beat as I gazed at the message. I returned the type: **"Who is this?"**

The response arrived quickly: ** "Verify your front foot." **

I felt shivers down my back.

I slowly stood up and peered through the window next to the door.

There was nobody.

I opened the door a crack.

There was a brown envelope on the mat.

I picked it up with hands that were shaking. It was substantial. heavy. not sealed, in contrast to the other.

I carefully opened it.

There were pictures inside.

dozens of them.

Richard, Ethan, and me.

Charities, award shows, and dinners are a few examples of public events.

Some people don't.

One was of Ethan at the office party, standing behind me. He touched my waist. He gazed at me as if I were the only person in the world.

Another, faint but clear, showed Richard and another woman kissing inside a car.

I was having trouble breathing.

I felt sick to my stomach.

Nestled at the bottom of the envelope was a note. Sharp block letters on a single line.

**"Ask Ethan about the actual events in Prague." **

My fingers were as cold as ice as I dropped everything onto the coffee table.

Prague?

Last year, Richard had visited there on business. He returned a different person. Far away. Furious. The fights had begun at that point. He stopped touching me after that.

He never explained the situation to me.

However, Ethan was also present.

Now I realized that he had left at the same time for a conference. It was a coincidence, they said.

My mind whirled.

I required clarification.

I needed air, though.

I quickly put on jeans and a hoodie after taking a shower, tucked my hair up in a low bun, and tucked the envelope into my purse.

It took fifteen minutes to get to Ethan's penthouse. My heart pounded violently as I drove, my hands firmly gripping the steering wheel as I went by each street.

He occupied the highest floor of the city's tallest building. Steel and cold glass. Beautiful, aloof, and dangerous, just like him.

After entering the elevator, I pressed the button for the upper floor.

The elevator's air was too constrained. As if it understood what I was going to do.

His assistant blinked up at me from behind her desk as the doors opened.

"Miss West, I-um?" Confused, she said.

"Is he in?"

The door behind her had already opened when she opened her mouth to reply.

Ethan remained motionless. He had a loose tie. His eyes were weary.

He said to the assistant, "Let her in."

He had a dark wood office with large windows that let in plenty of light and a view of the entire city.

As I passed him, he remained silent.

I took the envelope out of my handbag and threw its contents onto his desk.

"The truth is what I want." Right now.

The pictures didn't make him cringe.

But the sight of the note sharpened his eyes.

He took his time reading it. then gave me a look.

"Who sent this?"

"You tell me."

He sat down heavily in his chair and combed his hair.

"This is not how I wanted you to find out."

"Discover what?" I lost my temper.

"That Richard wasn't who you believed him to be."

I gazed at him.

"Did he cheat on me?"

Ethan gave a nod.

My chest ached. I didn't cry, though.

I simply waited.

"It's not all there is." "In Prague, something happened. Something that completely altered the situation.

I moved in closer. "Tell me."

His eyes were filled with a mixture of pain and guilt as he gazed up at me.

Richard became involved with a dangerous person. He struck a bargain. took money that wasn't his. I forewarned him. pleaded with him to leave. He didn't listen, though.

I took a swallow. "What's the deal?"

Ethan paused. "It's against the law. shady money. Blackmail. He also brought up your name.

I stumbled back. "What?"

Ethan got up. "Lila, they're observing you now. I am here for that reason. I made the offer for that reason.

"What's the offer?"

He tightened his jaw.

Reaching a drawer, he took out another envelope.

There was a contract inside.

union.

His name and mine.

Stunned, I looked up at him.

"You wish to wed me?" I inquired.

He gave a nod. "To keep you safe."

"From what?"

He took a step toward her.

Then he uttered the words that made my lungs catch:

"From those who murdered Richard."

My heart pounded in my chest as I gazed at him.

"What did you just say?"

Ethan's eyes became gloomy. "They'll target you next."