Victor's POV
Emily lay in bed, the covers pulled down to her waist, her body and hair draped across the chest of a man. A stranger. His arms were around her, holding her the way I'd held her just nights ago.
Clothes were scattered across the floor. A man's shirt. Pants. Emily's blouse, the Navy blue one I'd told her looked beautiful, crumpled in a heap by the bed.
The scene was so clear, so damning, that for a moment I couldn't breathe.
The man's eyes opened. He saw me in the doorway and jerked, his face going white. Emily, disturbed by the movement, made a small sound of protest but didn't wake. She turned slightly, stretching, then curled back into sleep.
Still unconscious. Still peaceful. Like she didn't have a care in the world.
For a heartbeat, we just stared at each other. Him, frozen in shock. Me, feeling my entire world fall apart.
He recognized me first. I saw it in the way there's sudden panic in his expression.
