Lyra's POV
I should have known something was wrong the minute I stepped in.
The air was all messed up like the cosmos was trying to tell me to stop and turn around, to run away before I was plunged into what turned out to be the most unfortunate event of my life.
Maybe I should have listened to the voice in my head, or at least, the one echoing around the walls of the house, with the loud moans coming from somewhere down the hallway.
"Hi, Miss Flynn," the butler appeared at the door with a little bow. It had always been such a wonder to me how a lowly girl from a small town in Georgia ended up with a member of the Vaughn family.
"Lovely to see you on our doorstep today."
"Hi, Francis," I greeted with a chirpy tone and attempted to walk past him. But he stood there, refusing to move, with a generic smile on his face that reminded me of a harsh sunny day.
"Miss Flynn, is Mr. Vaughn expecting you?"
My head suddenly pushed back in surprise. I'd been coming over to Ethan's house for three whole years now since we started dating, and not once was I stopped by the door.
Not by Francis, the family butler. Not by anyone.
"Francis, erm… No, I didn't tell Ethan I was coming today because I wanted to surprise him. It is our wedding tomorrow, remember? The girls say it is bad luck to see him before the big day, but I just wanted to."
I laughed awkwardly, noticing that Francis didn't stop blocking the door. "Is there anything wrong with that?"
"No, Miss Flynn, but strict instructions have been left …"
"Strict instructions by who?" I was beginning to get upset. "I want to see my fiancé, and I don't think you can stop me unless he doesn't want to see me. Did he tell you that?"
There was no way on earth Ethan could do that.
"No, ma'am, but…"
"Then, this conversation is over."
Not caring about Francis using force on me, since I knew he wouldn't dare, I pushed past him into the huge house. My eyes scanned the space, searching for Ethan.
He was nowhere in the living area, so I moved into the hallway, heading straight for his room. The sound hit again, louder this time.
I was standing in front of the door, my right hand hovering above the handle. I heard it loud and clear, moans echoing through the walls, unmistakable and very loud.
But for some reason, I refused to believe it. I laughed to myself. "It has to be porn or something," I whispered, shrugging. "Maybe this is his own way of saying goodbye to living as a bachelor."
Swallowing, I twisted the handle and pushed the door open, hearing the footsteps of the butler as he reached me. But not even he could stop the shock that rattled through me from the scene that played right in front of my eyes.
"Ethan!" I gasped, allowing my black purse to drop from my hands, my eyes shining wide in surprise and my brain suddenly failing me.
My fiancé, who I'd been engaged to for over six months, jumped off the woman lying on the bed, her lush blonde hair sticking in places for reasons I didn't even want to imagine.
They were both naked, but Ethan didn't seem to care about that as he got over the initial shock and rushed towards me, the blonde drawing the sheets over her body, the same sheets I had slept in more times than I could count.
"Lyra, this isn't what it looks like, I promise."
I pulled back in disgust, with so much pain raking through me. What then did it look like because he was definitely balls deep into another woman?
Not waiting for an explanation, I turned around and ran out of the house, into the arms of the night. The last thing I wanted was for Ethan to see me crying.
Sniffing back my tears, I walked down the road until it felt like my feet would give way. There was a lounge around the corner and I made the spontaneous decision to go in there, knowing there was no way I could continue with the wedding tomorrow.
The loud music hit the minute I stepped in, and I navigated my way to the bar, sliding onto one of the stools. The bartender approached and I asked for a dirty martini, which gradually turned into more glasses than I could count.
"Hey," a deep baritone suddenly called, the intensity of the voice sending a shiver through me. A man appeared beside me, leaning on the counter, his dark eyes locked in on mine. "You should call it a night."
"Yeah," I rolled my eyes and scoffed. "Just another man telling me what to do."
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
"I don't want to talk about it."
So, he slid onto the stool next to me and listened to me talk about every other things apart from the fact that I was supposed to be getting married the next day. He laughed at the appropriate places, showing that he was really listening.
He must have leaned in at some point during our conversation about how Spanish was the sexiest language to ever have existed, because one minute, there was enough space, and the next, I was breathing in his earthy cologne.
It filled my nostrils and caressed me with its warmth, and it made my eyes flutter close and my lips part open. I felt him come impossibly closer, dispelling the rest of the chill with his warmth.
Our lips touched, and passion rushed through me. It was meant to be one chaste, innocent kiss, but after one second, I knew it had to be more than that.
I was drunk, but I knew what I wanted.
I threw my hands around his shoulders just as he drew me to him, our lips taking and giving without a care in the world.