Craving for My Tyrant Husband

he doorman's eyes lingered on the hickey on her neck.

She pulled the collar up and practically ran to the elevator.

Illa was waiting in her doorway before the elevator doors even opened.

She was wearing a silk kimono that cost more than Evie's rent, her face a mask of tragic anticipation.

"Inside," Illa commanded, grabbing Evie's arm and hauling her into the foyer. "Shoes off. Spill."

She snatched the envelope from Evie's hand before she could even speak. Illa ripped it open, pulling out the certificate with the precision of a forensic scientist.

Her eyes scanned the paper. Then they widened. They kept widening until Evie thought they might pop out of Illa's skull.

"Everleigh Roman and... Williams?" Illa whispered, her finger tracing the last name.

The first name was a dark, ugly blotch. "What is this, a wine stain? I can't read his first name. But Williams?"

Evie collapsed onto Illa's plush white sofa. "I know. He signed the note 'G.' I've been calling him Gus in my head. It sounds like a grandfather's name. Or an antique dealer."

Illa looked up at Evie, her face pale. "Evie. Do you know who Williams is?"

"There are a thousand Williamses in New York," Evie said, rubbing her temples. "He's probably a hedge fund manager or something. He had a nice room."

Illa let out a breath that sounded like a deflating tire. "Right. Right. Of course." She laughed, a nervous, high-pitched sound. "For a second, I thought... but no. That's impossible."

"Thought what?"

"My tyrannical older brother," Illa said, shuddering. "His name starts with an A, not a G. And besides, we don't call him by his first name. We call him 'Sir' or 'Please Don't Kill Me'. He's a shark. If he got married, it would be on the front page of the Wall Street Journal, and the bride would have been vetted by a committee of lawyers."

"See?" Evie said, feeling a wave of relief. "Not him. My Gus left me a note. It was polite."

"My brother doesn't know the meaning of the word polite," Illa confirmed. She walked over to the massive floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the park. "He lives right there. Next building."

She pointed to the penthouse terrace adjacent to hers. It was separated by a gap of maybe twenty feet, close enough to throw a rock, far enough to require a bridge.

"That's his lair," Illa said. "Don't look at it too long. You might turn to stone."

Evie shivered, pulling the trench coat tighter. "Well, I'm glad I didn't marry him."

"You can stay here," Illa said, turning back to Evie. "Your ex-boyfriend Darrin is probably camping out at your apartment. You're homeless and married. You need a base of operations."

"But... your brother is right there."

"He's busy," Illa dismissed. "He's in the middle of a hostile takeover of some tech firm. He hasn't stepped on that terrace in months. You'll be safe."

She led Evie to the guest room. It was beautiful, airy, and unfortunately, the room closest to the neighboring terrace.

"Get settled," Illa said. "I'll get you some honey water for that hangover."

As she left, Evie's phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

Awake? Headache?

Her heart skipped a beat. It was him. Gus.

Evie typed back furiously. Who are you? We need to talk. I want a divorce.

The reply came instantly. Three dots dancing on the screen.

Divorce isn't on the schedule today. Drink some water. I'm out of town. We'll talk when I'm back.

Evie stared at the screen. The audacity.

I am not waiting, she typed. This is a mistake.

You didn't think it was a mistake last night, he replied.

Evie's face burned. She threw the phone onto the bed just as Illa walked in with a steaming mug.

"Who are you fighting with?" Illa asked, eyeing the phone.

"No one," Evie said quickly. "Just... Gus."

Illa rolled her eyes. "Gus. Sounds like a plumber. Or a golden retriever."

Night fell quickly in the city. After a dinner of takeout sushi that Evie could barely keep down, she retreated to the guest room. She needed air.

She slid open the glass door to the balcony. The city hummed below, a river of light and noise. The air was cool, biting at her bare legs beneath the oversized shirt she was still wearing.

Evie looked to the left. The neighboring terrace was dark, a slab of concrete and shadow. Illa said he was a tyrant. A monster.

Then, a spark.

A tiny, orange glow flared in the darkness of the other balcony.

Evie froze.

A figure detached itself from the shadows.

He was tall. Broad-shouldered. He was leaning against the railing, facing out toward the park, a cigarette in his hand.

The smoke drifted toward her, carrying that scent. Cedarwood. Rain.

Her breath hitched. The silhouette... the way he stood, weight on one leg, shoulders tense... it felt familiar. Viscerally familiar.

He turned his head.

Evie couldn't see his face, just the sharp angle of a jaw and the glint of eyes reflecting the city lights. He was looking right at her.

Panic, cold and sharp, spiked in her chest. Was that Illa's brother? Or was it...

No. It couldn't be.

Evie stepped back, stumbling over the doorframe, and yanked the curtains shut. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

"It's just the brother," she told herself. "Just the scary neighbor."

Her phone buzzed on the bed.

Sleep well, Evie. The neighbors can be loud.

She stared at the text, the blood draining from her face.

He knew. He knew where she was.