Your Love and Sex Are Never Separate Chapter 1

After Dahlia cheated.

It was pure, pathetic retaliation. In six months, I dated maybe ten different women. Ten temporary shields, ten strangers I used to generate enough anger to finally break something.

The night I broke it off with the tenth woman—a graduate student in art history—I finally brought up the divorce with Dahlia.

“Gabriel.”

Dahlia finished typing a reply, finally looking up. “Is this another one of your tantrums? This must be… what? The fourth time this month?”

She gave a small, mocking smile. “What, the latest distraction didn't satisfy you? Has the great, placid Mr. Miller finally gotten his heart stirred up enough to start making demands?”

Dahlia grabbed her jacket. “I don't have time for this, Gabriel. I have plans tonight.”

I watched her, still unable to comprehend it. How could a woman compartmentalize love and sex so completely?

“Dahlia,” I said, stepping in front of the door, blocking her exit. I held out the signed agreement. My voice was eerily calm. “I’m serious. Let’s stop doing this to each other.”

* * *

“Gabriel, please.” Dahlia’s expression was lazily dismissive. “I really can’t play this game right now.”

She held up her phone, displaying a text thread. “The kid’s going to throw a fit.”

Her voice softened, her eyes full of a tenderness she no longer showed me. “You know how hard he is to placate, Gabriel.”

The screen showed a cheesy, synchronized profile photo. Her current fling. The latest message was a demanding, pouty emoji followed by a complaint:

Jude Ryder: How much longer are you going to spend with the old man?

Jude Ryder: You said he had a girlfriend now. What, are you finally admitting the fossil is better in bed? Are you suddenly desperate for a romantic reunion?

He was openly mocking my age. Dahlia only laughed, typing a reply: Dahlia: Stop being so ridiculously jealous.

The phone immediately rang with an incoming voice call. The sudden, jarring sound sliced through the tension between us.

“See?” Dahlia said, gesturing at the screen. “Gabriel, I really am busy.”

She pressed Answer right in front of me.

A high, petulant voice immediately filled the room. “Dahlia!”

“I’m outside your house. Now.”

“You have three seconds.”

“If you don’t come out, we are over!”

I listened to his ridiculous ultimatum, watching Dahlia’s face freeze for a split second before she laughed, the warmth returning to her voice.

“My little king,” she cooed into the phone. “My husband is home. Are you actually trying to get him to hack you to pieces?” She paused for dramatic effect. “If he really does lay a hand on you, don’t come crying to me.”

She was flirting, completely unconcerned by my presence.

“You won’t let him,” Jude insisted. “You promised you’d protect me!”

I knew what I should do. I should be silent. I should let her leave, give her the space she demanded. Everyone told me the same thing: as long as I was Dahlia Beaumont’s husband, I was set for life—wealth, status, everything. Even my critically ill father, hanging on by a thread in the hospital, would get the best possible care.

But I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I snatched the phone from her hand. Dahlia stared at me, astonished. I put the phone to my ear.

“He’s right,” I snapped at the voice on the other end. “Gabriel Miller is dangerous. You come through that door, and I’ll make sure you get carried out!”

Ignoring his scream of disbelief and his high-pitched torrent of abuse, I threw the phone—shattering it against the marble floor—and yanked open the mahogany door.

Jude Ryder’s face, already red, turned white. I didn’t hesitate. I raised my hand and slapped him across the face.

“Do you even know what you are?” My voice was harsh, but my expression was vacant. “As long as I’m standing here, you’re nothing but a pathetic, temporary side-piece.”

I grabbed a handful of his perfect blonde hair and slammed his head against the door frame. The hollow thud made him shriek.

“You psycho! Dahlia! DAHLIA! You’re just going to let him assault me?!”

I lifted my hand, ready for a second strike, when my wrist was suddenly caught. Dahlia’s voice, coming from behind me, was dangerously light.

“Gabriel, aren’t you being just a little too unrefined?”