The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Cynthia’s POV

“May I cut in?” Ethan asked, his voice deceptively calm.

Nikolai’s hand remained steady at my waist, waiting for my answer, but before I could even open my mouth, to refuse or accept or do anything at all, Ethan’s hand slid to my waist, replacing Nikolai’s with a possessive firmness that made my breath catch. The other hand captured mine, and suddenly I was being pulled away, spun into his arms like I had no say in the matter.

“Excuse me…” I started, trying to pull back, but his grip tightened.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear over the music.

I looked back desperately at Nikolai, who stood frozen for a moment, clearly torn between respecting my autonomy and physically removing Ethan from the equation. Kevin was across the floor with the emerald–dress woman, too far away to notice what had just happened.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I hissed, trying to keep my voice down even as fury flooded through me. “You can’t just ”

“I can, actually.” His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that felt almost violent. “You’re still my wife, Cynthia. Legally, at least. I think that gives me the right to one dance.”

The audacity of it…the sheer, breathtaking entitlement made my hands shake.

“Let me go, Ethan.”

“Not until you listen to me.” He pulled me closer, moving us deeper into the crowd of dancers where we’d be harder to extract.” We need to talk about what’s happening here.”

“What’s happening here,” I said through gritted teeth, “is that you’re making a scene.”

and not in a way that felt “I’m making a scene?” His laugh was bitter. “You show up looking like this…” His eyes raked over me, like a compliment. “… after three years of disappearance with that F1 racer guy draped all over you, and I’m making a scene?”

“Ethan, let go of me” I couldn’t bring myself to push him because I didn’t want to disrupt the peace of the other dancers on stage and cause a scene.

His grip on my waist tightened. “Tell me, Cynthia. What exactly is he to you?”

Hought against his hold, but he was stronger, and fighting too hard would definitely cause a scene “That’s none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t.” His voice dropped lower, dangerous. “You’re still wearing my ring.” hts eyes dropped to my fingers, and disappointment followed “Well, you were. When did you take it off?”

“I stopped being your wife the night you told me I was being dramatic about dying “I spilled, trying not to give too mush, so not sound so hurt from the damage he caused me.

His expression flickered for a few seconds, and then he replaced it with a smirk.

“You look good,” he said, and it sounded like an accusation “Better than you did three years

“Oh, please.” I tried again to pull away, but he held firm “Is that what you wanted to talk about? How gyud Ik that I’m not under your roof?”

“You’re angry,” he observed, pulling me closer than the dance required, close enough that I could smell his cologue, the sa one he’d worn throughout our marriage, familiar and suffocating

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“Brilliant observation,” I shot back. “Three years and that’s the best you’ve got?”

He had the audacity to chuckle, he made that low, rumbling sound that used to make my stomach flip with butterflies, now it just made me nauseous.

The casual cruelty of it made me want to slap him.

“Don’t,” I said, pulling back as much as his grip would allow. “Don’t pretend this is a nice conversation.”

His eyes darkened, the pleasant facade cracking. “I’m not pretending anything. I’m telling you to come back home to us.”

I gave a sharp and humorless laugh. “Us? You mean you and Anna?”

“And Amber and mother… Anna’s family,” he said, like it explained everything. Like it justified everything. “You know that, right?.”

“And I was what?” The question came out quieter than I intended. “The maid? The incubator? The convenient house wife you could ignore until you needed someone to cook dinner or make you coffee?”

The orchestra around us seemed to fade, the other dancers blurring into background noise. All I could hear was the rushing in my ears, the pounding of my heart against my ribs.

“You want to talk about Anna?” he asked quietly, dangerously. “Fine. Let’s talk about your little boyfriend, who can’t seem to keep his hands off you.”

“Don’t you dare.” My voice came out cold, deadly. “Don’t you dare try to….”

“Excuse me if I’m having a hard time believing you’re the victim here, it seemed like you ran off your matrimonial home as soon as you got someone like Kevin Laurent to leech on.”

I was mesmerized by how shallow his mind was.

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