Chapter 25

Hannah

Seeing Zoe kiss Noah’s cheek so tenderly, so lovingly, had filled me with a rage that made me want to lash out. I wanted to scream, cry, yell and throw things, even resort to my purging pills once more despite the fact that they had long since been flushed down the toilet.

But I didn’t do any of those things. I don’t love Noah anymore, I kept telling myself. It shouldn’t matter. Right now, my only goal was to gain enough approval so that when our divorce began, I would have a leg up on the matter.

It was sometime around the afternoon that I caught Noah once again as he was walking out of the banquet hall where tonight’s gala was to be held. He was absorbed in a text on his phone, and almost didn’t even notice me until I literally stepped in his way.

“Ahem.”

Noah jerked his head up from his phone and stared at me for a moment. “What is it?” he asked in that usual prickly demeanor of his—a far cry from the sweet words he had said to me last night.

I held the menu I was holding out to him. “Here’s tonight’s menu. You said you wanted to see it.”

Noah blinked at me, still seemingly caught off guard by my composed demeanor. “Oh. Uh, yes, let me see it.”

He took the proffered menu, his green eyes scanning the list of dishes. A small crease appeared between his brows as he read. “You’ve made some last minute changes,” he observed, glancing up at me with a frown. “Why? We had the menu set days ago.”

I shrugged one shoulder lightly. “I may have added a few things based on… cravings.” It was true; this morning, I had developed a sudden, unstoppable craving for crab cakes and chocolate mousse—an odd combination, I knew.

I couldn’t decide if it was pregnancy cravings, general food cravings now that my body had gotten the taste of food lately, or perhaps both.

Noah’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Cravings? Are you trying to be difficult on purpose? This is an important event, Hannah.”

Pursing my lips, I simply held his gaze steadily. He always did have a tendency to jump to accusations. But before he could start ranting, I slowly extended my arm, resting my hand on the crook of his elbow.

I felt Noah stiffen at the gentle contact, his words dying on his tongue. Carefully keeping my expression neutral, I traced my fingernails lightly along the sensitive skin of his inner arm. A faint shiver rippled through his frame.

“I thought you would be proud of me,” I murmured, my voice pitched low so only he could hear. “Giving in to my cravings, trying to eat more. Last night, you said…”

“I know what I said last night,” he snapped.

There was a brief silence, and I maintained my cool expression. Noah’s jaw clenched, but I could see the barest flicker of heat in his gaze as it dropped briefly to my lips. His pupils were blown wide, inky pools of blackness in a sea of green.

We stood there motionless for a long, charged moment before he finally spoke again, his voice low and strained.

“You’re right. If having certain… indulgences will help you eat, then I won’t complain.”

A small, triumphant smile curved my mouth. Leaning in, I pressed a lingering kiss to Noah’s opposite cheek—the opposite one from the one that Zoe had kissed earlier that morning. I wasn’t sure why I did it.

As I pulled back, I saw a muscle feathering in Noah’s taut jaw, felt the slight tremble of his powerful frame so close to mine. Our gazes met and held, a thousand unspoken words and fiery heat blazing between us.

I felt something warm blossom outward from my groin, and I knew I wanted him. I really did.

But I wouldn’t do it.

Before I could make a mistake that I knew I would regret, I turned on my heel and walked away, hips swaying subtly with each step I took. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Noah’s reflection in a shining display case—he was still frozen in place, his gaze burning into my retreating form.

My heart gave a little flutter at the undisguised want and hunger in his eyes. This wasn’t like him, to want me outside of our intimacy nights. But something had changed lately.

…

Later that evening as I began dressing for the banquet, I stood in front of the floor-length mirror in my chambers and stared at my gaunt reflection. Viona, wearing her own dark purple gown for the evening, was carefully laying out potential gown options on the bed behind me.

“I like this black one,” she said, pointing at a long black silk gown with one hand while she lifted a wine glass to her lips with the other. “It’s sexy, but refined.”

I turned around and picked up the dress, then held it up to myself in the mirror. She was right; it was suitable for tonight. “But I haven’t worn this dress in… I don’t even know how long,” I said absentmindedly as I turned this way and that.

“There’s no time better than the present,” Viona said.

Glancing down, I traced my hands over the hollows of my ribcage, the knobby protrusion of my hips… but there, just below my concave belly, was the tiniest swell. A gentle curve that caught the light, casting the faintest of shadows.

It wasn’t my pregnancy showing, no—that wouldn’t begin to show for a good while.

No, this was the sign of a belly with food in it. Not much food, but still something.

I closed my eyes for a moment, picturing my body from before my eating disorder began—the slopes and valleys, the lush femininity I had forsaken through years of starvation. But now… now I could see that form returning, slowly but surely.

Part of me hated it.

A hand on my shoulder made me open my eyes. Viona stood beside me, meeting my gaze in the mirror, and it was only then that I realized I had tears in my eyes.

“Hey. You’re doing great.”

I nodded and quickly wiped my tears away before they could ruin my makeup. “Thank you, Viona. For everything. For never losing faith in me.”

Viona shot me a small smile in the mirror and sat down on the settee at the end of the bed. “It’s what friends are for, isn’t it?” she asked.

Smiling, I unzipped the gown and stepped into it. It went on smoothly and easily, hanging slightly loose on my frame but not in a bad way—more of a sexy, casual way. Viona stood and helped me zip it up.

Then, her eyes lit up and she reached into her purse. “Actually, that reminds me… I brought this for you.”

Pulling out a folded pamphlet, she held it out to me. I took it from her and opened it to see details for a local support group—weekly meetings for women recovering from eating disorders and related issues.

It was completely anonymous, or so the tagline promised.

“I thought you might be interested in this,” she said. “I’ll go with you, if you want. And you can wear a mask if you’re worried about your identity… although, if people saw their Luna admitting to her issues and publicly working on them…”

Her voice trailed off, but the implications remained: my reputation. That was the reason behind so much of what I was doing lately. And she was right when she said that something like this would bolster my approval ratings.

If the people of Nightcrest saw that their Luna was just another person, a woman struggling with her own issues but willing to conquer them, then they’d look up to me.

“Viona, you’re a genius,” I said, lifting my gaze to meet hers.

Viona smiled at me and lifted her wine glass. But before she could say anything, there was a soft knock on the door. Assuming it was one of the servants, I called out without hesitating, “Come in.”

A moment later, the door cracked open and it was not a servant who stepped in.

I felt my heart stop as I turned to see Noah standing there, holding a wrapped gift box in his hands.