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Everything was perfect until the evening of your second week in the Maldives.

You were getting ready to go out for dinner and celebrate another wonderful day far away from his nagging mother, nosy friends, stressful jobs, and jealous exes.

That was the moment your world exploded. Your husband was sitting on the bed you had made love on not an hour ago, looking like he was about to cry. He never cried. Not even when his dog died.

Your heart stuttered. “What’s wrong? Do you feel sick? What happened?” You tried to find out what happened to make your husband cry. “Was it your mom again? Did she say mean things? I can take it, you know that.”

“It’s…” He burst out into tears, and between sobs, he told you that this was a mistake.

At first, you didn’t understand the meaning of his words. Not so long ago, he was happy and horny. Just how he should be on his honeymoon.

“Baby, you are scaring me. What’s going on? Please talk to me,” you pleaded, tears in your eyes. “Just say something.”

“I made a mistake,” he choked out. “This was all a mistake, Y/N. My friends were right. I shouldn’t have gone through with all this.”

“All…this?” You felt like someone had poured cold water over your head. Your body went stiff, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. “Do you mean the wedding?”

He nodded, and your heart shattered. You believed this man was the love of your life, only for him to call the best day of your life a mistake.  

“Y/N, we have known each other since childhood. We have been dating since we were teens. I think that we should’ve dated other people before marrying.” Your husband sounded like a stranger. Every word he said sounded like a bad dialogue from a low-budget rom-com.

“You can’t be serious,” you cried, wiping your eyes, but the tears kept coming. “We were happy not an hour ago. You told me you love me. We made love. And now you are sitting there, telling me you want to fuck other people!” You were screaming at that point.

“Yeah,” he casually said, as if this didn’t mean the end of your marriage.

Days ago, you believed you could finally start thinking about starting a family. Now, that future was gone. All because your husband was having second thoughts.

“I—I need fresh air,” you coldly said, grabbing your keys and phone, fleeing out of the room.

He didn’t follow you or try to stop you. Your husband, the man you loved since you knew what love was, watched you leave without regret.

It took you three hours and lots of tears to find the strength to go back to your room. Your hand was shaking when you unlocked the door.

The moment you stepped into the room, you knew something was wrong. All of your husband’s things were gone, just like the man himself.

You found his wedding band in the trash, along with three notes he tried to write and never finished.

A suffocating silence settled over the room. And with it came clarity.

This man was never worth your love or time. He wasted all these years, making promises he never wanted to keep.

You did five things that night.

You called your family, telling them what happened.

You moved all your money from your joint account.

You called a lawyer, asking them to prepare an annulment.

You asked your friends and siblings to move all your belongings out of the apartment before your soon-to-be ex-husband had the chance to fly home.

You booked a massage…

"Buck, we have another one," Steve grinned wolfishly. From the moment you and your husband set foot into their wellness hotel he was following you around like a shadow. "She's the one."

"Are you sure?" Bucky asked, glancing at the reservation you made. "I thought she hated massages."

"He hated them," Steve said, still grinning. "Didn't you hear? The honeymoon phase is over..."

Next: Spa Paradise (Day 1) – Massage: Bucky Barnes

“No! We should go. I’m sorry for interrupting.” You hiccupped, nervously staring at your hands. "Sorry…uh...sometimes my brain is slower than my mouth!” You exclaimed, springing to your feet. Ready to go for a sprint.

Bucky grinned wolfishly. His voice was a little rougher when he said, “That so? We never met, and you still came to my rescue. How did you know I was bored to death?”

“She was joking,” Nia jumped in. You were staring at Bucky, and she feared you’d end up being his next meal if you looked at him for a little longer. “We are leaving. Sorry for the trouble.”

Your friend tried to drag you away, but two bulky guys blocked your path. “She stays,” Bucky said, leaving you trembling. “A woman saving me from a boring life deserves a reward."

Nia froze at Bucky’s commanding tone. “Excuse me?” She managed to say. “She will come with me.”

Bucky laughed at the way Nia protected you. “You’re a cocky one, I see.” He gave a curt nod, and the men stepped aside.

You still didn’t dare to breathe wrong. This man was staring you down after your mishap, and you didn’t know how to talk yourself out of the situation.

“Let’s go,” Nia said, but you remained rooted to the spot. Bucky’s gaze was still on you, and his eyes told you not to move an inch.

“You look like you're planning an escape route.” He joked, his mouth curving upward. “Maybe I should call security back. What do you say?”

“Maybe I’m planning to escape,” you admitted. “I just ruined your wedding ceremony, and you look like someone hiding a gun in their pants.”

He laughed, following your eyes. You were shamelessly staring at his crotch, and he couldn’t hide the glint in his eyes.

“There she is. I feared we lost her.”

You blinked. “What?”

“The cocky woman who told me I could do better.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He recalled your words and hummed. “You’re the only person who told me the truth about the bride and this wedding.”

“That wasn't honesty; it was more like random thoughts escaping my mouth without permission."

“That wasn’t an accident nor random. You wanted to save me from an awful, boring marriage. You’re my savior.”

Nia crossed her arms, trying to look tough. She hid the chill running down her spine when looking at Bucky. “Sir, she apologized. Can we pretend this never happened? Y/N can be impulsive; sometimes she speaks before she thinks. We love her for it.”

Bucky ignored her completely. He set his eyes on you and wouldn’t back down now. How could he? He stopped the ceremony for another woman.

“What did you mean?”

You really didn’t know. “I was thinking you looked stunning in that suit. My brain short-circuited, and then I said what I said. No offense. You looked like you wanted to swallow glass before marrying that woman.”

“That so?” He cocked his head, searching your face.

“Fine!” You said, throwing your hands up. “You looked miserable. A handsome man like you should look happy on his wedding day, not like someone twisted your balls.

Bucky laughed. “No one twisted my balls, doll. No one would dare try.”

“You looked like you wanted to be somewhere else. I know that feeling. Sometimes you must do things that make you miserable. Your wedding shouldn’t be one of these things,” you murmured. “I’d understand if the bride looked miserable. Her dress was a mess.”

“Y/N, don’t.” Nia winced. She was wringing her hands, silently praying to get out of the church alive.

“She’s flashy but pretty. Maybe you’re more into…uh…men?”

“Wow,” Bucky said.

“What?”

“No one's ever said that to me before.”

“Really?”

“Not to my face.”

You giggled. “So…is it true?”

Bucky laughed. “No.”

“Aw, that’s a shame. I have a cute cousin. He’d be your type,” you said.

“I already found someone who’s my type,” he replied, earning a disappointed whine from you.

Nia looked between the two of you suspiciously. “Oh no.” She muttered under her breath.

“What?” You asked, looking at her.

“He likes you...”

Your heart races looking at August. He’s still the man ordering you around and yelling at you, but now, you feel grounded and safe with him.

“Don’t leave me waiting,” he warns. His hands grip your hips a little tighter to press your bare sex against the rough fabric of his slacks. A reminder that he’s in charge.

“Yes, Sir,” you shakily reply.

“Start slow,” his voice is so low and commanding that you are about to cum right there and then. “I want to see every spark I ignite. If you want to stop, say red. That should do for now.”

“Red,” you reply, earning a low growl from August. “Understood, Sir.”

You bite your lip, hesitating for another heartbeat before you begin to move. You’re grinding against the solid muscle beneath you, moaning loudly as you feel your clit start to thrum.

Your orgasm builds quickly, and you can already feel the familiar warmth spread through your abdomen. August watches your every move, eyes locked on your face.  

Right when you pick up the pace to chase your orgasm, he tightens his hold on your hips again, holding you still. “You won’t get to cum so fast. Do it slower.”

You whine but obediently nod. August is in charge, and if you want this relationship to work out, you must show him how good you can be for him.

August loosens his hold on your hips, allowing you to ride his thigh harder. The pressure is just right. Your breath is coming in short bursts. You close your eyes, whimpering as the high you were chasing was taken away from you again.

His hand comes up to your face to cup your cheek. He only looks at you, smirking as you slow down again.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice softening for only a moment. You fall against his chest, frustrated and aching for release, but the praise makes you feel warm.

He doesn’t stop, though. August gave you a moment to calm, only for him to tell you to keep grinding. Again. And again. And again.

He wants you to break; you don’t cum without permission. August just stares at you, calculating, waiting for you to break. But you don’t.

“That’s a good girl for me,” he murmurs, gently stroking your sides as you are so close to your orgasm it almost hurts.

“Please, August... I need it.”

You are about to say red when he looks you in the eyes and tells you, “Come for me.”

You surge forward, riding with abandon, until your orgasm finally shatters you. Weak and exhausted, you fall against his chest again, crying silently.

August held you close, his hands gently stroking your back and hair. “You did so well,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head. He waits for you to come down and listens to your breathing.

You sigh against him, allowing yourself to bask in his warmth and care. “I did well?” You murmur, wondering if he tries to tease you again. “Really?”

“Very well, Y/N. No other woman was so good for me. Ever,” he says, reassuringly. “Now, let’s get you to bed. It was a long and exhausting day for you.”

August ran a warm bath for you. He helped you eat and rehydrate before carrying you inside his bedroom. You’re the first sub allowed to stay with him. August usually brings them home after a session.

“You’ll stay with me,” he simply states. There’s no room for arguments. August found his perfect submissive and won’t give up on you. “Tomorrow, we will get more of your things. I’ll handle your lease and everything.”

“You want me to move in here…permanently. I thought this was just…” You don’t know what to think. August is the dominant you were looking for, but he’s still the man who hated you the most not so long ago.

“I need to know you’re safe all the time. At work, I can keep an eye on you. After work, it’d be difficult if you are not near me. I can’t have anything happen to you,” he says, joining you on the bed. August possessively wraps himself around your body. He buries his face in your neck, teasing your soft spot with his lips. “No man can even lay his eyes on you…”

“Uh—is this a mafia thing?” You asked, glancing at Bucky, who was busy on his phone. He was ordering your favorite food, wanting it to arrive before you did. “I was about to have a date.”

“I was worried about your safety,” he replied after ending the call. “That’s why you are here with me now. Jake didn’t have the time to check on your date’s background. It’s still my job to keep you safe. I don’t care if you broke up with me or not.”

“Hmm…is that a hostage situation?” You wondered while watching Bucky put his phone away. “Bucky, did you kidnap me?”

“You willingly got inside my car. I wouldn’t call this kidnapping,” he said, a smirk coloring his features.

“You said, 'Get in my car,” you defended your decision to enter Bucky’s car. It was an old habit to follow his instructions. Old habits die hard, right? “I only did as you said.” You pursed your lips. “Did you trick me?”

He laughed. “I didn’t think picking my woman up was considered a crime nowadays."

“You did not pick me up, Bucky!” His possessive behavior was one of the reasons you two broke up. “You came to the restaurant, stopped me from getting inside, and told me to get inside your car.”

“Semantics, Y/N. I came here to make sure you are safe and sound,” Bucky acted like a caring boyfriend, not a kidnapper. The problem was that you broke up almost a year ago.

His line of business, his possessiveness over you, and the constant threats from his enemies were too much for you.

He tried to keep you safe but got hurt more than once doing so. You didn’t want Bucky to get killed while protecting you. The only way out was for you to break his heart.

Bucky didn’t take the breakup lightly. He was lurking around every corner, always popping up out of nowhere for weeks until you told him it’s better this way.

You didn’t know he was always there, protecting you from afar. Bucky was following you that night, wanting to make sure you were safe. He didn’t expect you to go on a date with some random guy you met at the grocery store.

Bucky swore to let you go, but he couldn’t watch you date a douchebag, calling you "sugar tits" on the phone. Bucky knew you hated it, and he hated it even more.

No man was allowed to call you anything but a goddess in Bucky’s opinion. Or doll, his favorite pet name for you.

“That guy was no good, doll,” he said with so much confidence you knew that Bucky had someone check your date’s background. “This man wanted to get in your pants.”

He made a face. Only thinking about another man touching you makes Bucky’s blood boil. “I had it handled. Bucky, you can’t keep on doing this.”

“He was a douche,” Bucky insisted, not giving in. “You know that. No man should call a woman he barely knows sugar tits. No. Scratch that. A man should never call her that.”

“What if she likes it?” You leaned closer to look Bucky in the eyes. “You know, some women like pet names.”

“Pet names. Not insults.” Bucky gently cupped your cheek, earning a whine. “I’d find out what a woman likes and give it to her. This man wanted to get laid.”

“James,” you said his name to get his full attention. “What are we doing here? We agreed on never seeing each other again, didn’t we?”

“You said that. I never agreed.” Bucky replied, his eyes glued to the necklace dangling from your neck. The one he gave to you. “You’re still wearing it. This means something. You still love me.”

“Love was never the problem, Buck,” you softly said, taking his hand, squeezing it. “You would’ve got yourself killed for me one day. I couldn’t bear watching you die for me.”

“Then, I won’t die,” he said. “I swear you’ll watch my ass become wrinkly before I die. We are going to grow old together, have an awful lot of kids, and have naughty sex…lots of sex.”

“If you lie, I’ll take you down before your enemies get the chance,” you said, cupping his face to press a soft kiss on his lips. “That’s a promise.”

You waited patiently, giddy like a schoolgirl to finally have quality time with your boyfriend. The happiness you felt when you heard his car soon died. You left the cabin to jump into his arms, only to end up facing his best friend, Stan.

“What are you doing here?” You couldn’t help but wonder. “Where’s Martin?”

“I’m right here,” your boyfriend said, leaving the backseat, along with his best friend’s sister. Chrissy, or Christine, to the people she doesn’t like.

You looked from a smirking Chrissy to her brother and back to your boyfriend. “Martin, a word!” You said, your voice sharp. It was not the time to swallow your pride and roll over as you did so often in the past.

“You can say everything you want to say in front of my friends.” Martin shrugged and wrapped one arm around Chrissy’s waist. “Right, guys.”

“Fine. If you want them to hear that they are not welcome, so be it. I planned a romantic getaway for the two of us. You just spent a whole week with your best friend and your entourage. Do you honestly believe I want your friend; his sister, and God knows who else you invited over while I show you my brand-new lingerie?” You put your hands on your hips and glared at Martin.

“It’s not a big deal,” he replied, and rolled his eyes. “It’s just a getaway, not our honeymoon.”

“I planned this getaway for two months. I paid for it, for the food and fucking Victoria's Secret lingerie. I did it for the two of us, not your buddies. So, what will it be? Me or them.”

Martin looked annoyed. He sighed and ran one hand down his face. “Don’t throw another tantrum, Y/N. They are my friends.”

“We are only friends,“ Chrissy said. We will all be having a sleepover. Martin said there are two bedrooms. You can have one, and the fun trio will take the other.”

The sheer audacity of that woman never failed to amaze you. You didn’t play her game, though. Ignoring her presence, you turned toward Martin. “Exactly,” you bit back. “They are your friends, because mine are never allowed to join us. If they are not on their way back in ten, I’ll cancel the payment, and you can pay for everything.”

Martin laughed. He didn’t believe for a second that you’d leave him alone. You loved him too much after all. “Why don’t you invite your friends over. Then we are even.”

You were fuming. Martin knew that your friends couldn’t just take a week off. He smirked, believing you’d give in.

Chrissy walked toward the cabin, completely unfazed by the fact that you were about to commit murder. “Fine,” you finally said and fished your phone out of your pocket. “I’ll call someone.”

Martin gasped loud enough for his friend to hear. He didn’t think you’d agree to invite your friends. “Who will you invite? Michelle, or maybe Susan.” His friend’s grin widened.

“Oh, I will not call one of them,” you cooly replied. “I will call Ari. He helped me find the cabin and told me everything about the lake and the trail. Ari will be over the moon hearing he can join us.”

The fact that Martin didn’t know most of your friends made it easier to invite Ari, your boss.

Your boyfriend opened his mouth. He wanted to protest, but you already dialed Ari’s number. You knew it was like playing with fire to invite your boss, but right at that moment, you didn’t give a shit.

You and Ari talked for ten minutes. He didn’t hesitate after he heard what Martin did. He grabbed the bag he packed for his planned trip, jumped into his SUV, and drove faster than ever before.

While you claimed the biggest bedroom and moved everything you bought, including the wine and food, to the room, Martin was still outside, sulking like a child.

Your boyfriend was shocked to hear that you wanted your boss to sleep in your room. He hissed and yelled. “How dare she! She can’t have him in her bedroom.”

“Dude, you wanted to do the same with my sister,” his friend reminded him. “Remember? You told me to bunker in the tiny storage room or the couch. How’s that fair?”

Martin glared at his friend. “That’s not the same!”

“Is it?” His friend didn’t back down. “Listen. I thought it would be fun to have a little getaway for free. You left the part about the trip being a romantic getaway with your girlfriend out.”

“I thought she’d adapt,” Martin said, throwing his hands up.

“Adapt.” His friend repeated. “Do you hear yourself? You want my sister to sleep in your bedroom while the woman planning the getaway sleeps alone in the second bedroom? That’s messed up, even for you.”

“It’s bonding time for us,” Chrissy whined. “Since they started dating, I barely see Martin.”

“You see him every week,” her brother reminded her. “I bet you see Martin more often than his girlfriend. It’s no surprise to me that she’s pissed.”

The voice grew louder until another car arrived. Ari slipped out of his expensive SUV, looking as stunning as ever. For once, he didn’t wear a suit. Ari was wearing blue jeans and a blue plaid, matching his eye color.

“Ari!” You squealed and jumped right at him. He wrapped his arms around you, lifted you, and twirled you around. Everything was going according to plan. Your and Ari’s place.

Ari suggested giving Martin a dose of his own medicine. He was a great boss after all…

After Ari settled in your room, you decided to make dinner. Only for Ari and you. If Martin wanted his friends on the trip so badly, he could take care of them.

Ari wouldn’t have it. He told you to relax and mastered the kitchen, making the most delicious dish you can imagine.

“Food! Yes!” Chrissy sat down first. She tried to put food on a plate, but Ari stepped in front of the table and shook his head.

Ari glared her down, not moving an inch. “You can eat what you contributed. If I remember correctly, you only brought beer, sandwiches, and shamelessness.”

You laughed at your boss’s attitude. He prepared two plates and carried them toward the bedroom you would share for the next week. There was a small table and two chairs. Inside, no one would disturb you and Ari.

You followed him, taking the wine and the glasses. There was no food left. Ari only made enough for the two of you.

Martin could only watch you close the door. His throat tightened, and he felt like someone had slapped him across the face.

“Hmm…looks like they are getting along as well as you and my sister,” Stan said, leaning back in his chair with a beer in hand. “How does it feel?”

Martin shot him a dark look. “Shut up.”

“No, seriously,” Stan said. “You brought Chrissy here to make yourself comfortable.”

Martin’s jaw ticked. He hated that Stan was right. He hated even more that he could hear your laughter through the door.

Inside the bedroom, you felt better than you had in months. Ari had pushed the little table toward the window and set your plate down in front of you.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you murmured, staring at the plate instead of him. “I only called you because I was angry. You’re my boss, and I feel so stupid for all this.”

Ari sat across from you, studying your face. “I know.” His voice was gentle. “And I came because you sounded hurt, Y/N. I hate people hurting the people they should love the most.”

That simple answer did something terrible to your heart. It made that treacherous lump flutter. Martin would have called you dramatic. Ari knew you weren’t dramatic or wanted attention. You wanted someone who wanted you too.

You tried to laugh it off, but failed. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to be fine with me.” Ari leaned back to look you in the eyes. “Not tonight. Not ever. I’m here if you need a friend.”

You stared at him for a long moment. Maybe it was the warmth in his eyes, or the way he always talked to you, that made you crack.

“I planned this because I thought we could bond as a pair. I felt like it didn’t matter to Martin if I was in his life or not,” you admitted. “I think I got my answer.”

Ari’s expression darkened, but his voice stayed warm. “You shouldn’t have to do all this to get your man’s attention. If he doesn’t appreciate you, he doesn’t deserve to call himself your boyfriend.”

Your breath hitched. No one had said it that plainly before. No one had made it sound like the problem wasn’t you, but the man choosing his friends over you.

Ari was there. He listened without judging. Somehow, his presence alone made you feel heard and seen.

It wasn’t a grand romantic moment, yet it felt more intimate than anything you did with Martin. That was when you realized you were in trouble.

Falling for your boss would ruin your life, and you knew it.

A harsh knock shattered the quiet.

“Open the door,” Martin demanded from the other side. “We need to talk.”

Ari looked at you, not the door. “Do you want me to leave?”

You shook your head. “No.”

You wouldn’t give in. Not this time. Not when Martin decided he wanted privacy only after he experienced the same treatment you did whenever he ruined your plans for his friends. 

You took your time, slowly got up, and opened the door.

Martin stood there with his arms crossed. “This has gone far enough, Y/N.”

“I agree,” you said.

Martin grinned, believing he had won again. “Good. Tell him to leave.”

You shook your head. “No, Martin. I mean this. Us. I put up with your behavior for too long.”

His face fell. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” You said. “And I’m dine begging you to choose me. I am done planning around your moods, your friends, your excuses.”

Ari stepped behind you, placing his hand on your shoulder. “You heard the lady. We want you and your friends gone. Y/N won’t pay for a vacation your friends hijacked.”

“You can’t do this,” Martin tried, but you held up your hand. “What?”

“I want you gone in an hour.” Your voice didn’t waver. “I paid for the cabin, the food, and everything else. You and your buddies have no right to be here. If you can’t drive because you are drunk, there’s a motel not far down the road.”

Martin turned on his heels. He wanted to argue, but it was a lost cause. Ari’s hand was still warm on your shoulder. He stood behind you, watching your ex-boyfriend leave without a fight.

“If I were him, I’d have fought harder for you,” he said, his voice a little rougher.

“If you were him, I wouldn’t have chased you away…”

He looked exhausted, haunted even. Steve said your name, and an apology stuck in his throat.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Rain was dripping from the ends of his hair, wetting his suit even more.

“You’re alive,” you said, but it didn’t come with the usual softness. It came out sharp. Small. Like these words carried all the hurt you endured for two years. Lost family. Broken friendships. The love of your life is gone.

Steve flinched. The coldness in his voice was unfamiliar to him. It was a stark contrast to the warmth and softness you showed only around him.

“Yeah,” he answered quietly. “I am.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to keep yourself from reaching out for him. Maybe hit him. Or even worse, fall apart in front of him.

You hated that he still held so much power over you.

“Two years, Steve.” Your voice cracked on his name. “Two years of rumors. Two years of checking the news every morning and wondering if today was the day I’d hear about your death. And the death of my friends…family.”

His jaw tightened, but his eyes were wet. “I wanted to call you, Y/N. I dialed your number so many times, but never pressed dial.”

You laughed, a hollow sound. Not the carefree laughter he loved so much.

“Then you should have, Steve. All I wanted was to know you’re still alive. I tried to reach out myself, even contact Tony, but…” You shook your head. “He didn’t answer my calls. Stark holds grudges.”

Steve looked down at his hands and sighed. “I know,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry. I need you to know that leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, Y/N. It was the only way to keep you out of this fight. I didn’t…we didn’t want you to end up caught in the crossfire.”

Your throat tightened. For two years, you were angry. Now that you had the chance to yell, scream, and cry, Steve was standing in front of you, looking smaller than you remembered.

“I don’t forgive you yet, Steve,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Steve nodded once, like even that was more than he deserved. “Okay.”

“But I missed you,” you admitted. “I missed you so much that I hated you for it.”

His face fell. “I missed you, too,” he said. “Every damn day. But…we all decided it was best not to contact our families and loved ones. Sam was close to visiting his sister Sarah, but decided against it.”

You took one step forward before you could talk yourself out of it. Steve just stood there in the rain and waited.

“You’re soaked,” you murmured.

Steve nodded again, a broken smile on his face. “Yeah. I noticed.”

You stepped aside and opened the door wider for him to enter. “Come in before you lure in more strays, Rogers.”

He stared at you for a second, unsure if it was the right thing to do. “Are you sure?”

“No,” you said. “But I’m sure I don’t want you standing out there in the rain anymore. Especially on your birthday.”

Steve reluctantly stepped inside your house, feeling the warmth of your past envelop him. He took off his boots and dropped the duffel bag he was carrying next to them.

“Thank you.”

“It’s the only birthday gift you will get from me this year,” you said, your voice softer now. “You should get out of the suit and take a warm shower. We can talk later.”

“Yeah…later…”