I roll my eyes. Would she have done anything? She fights me but it’s always in private, no witnesses but today she froze up.
I want to know why.
“Get me the copies of every photo taken after the incident. If a single image leaks of Olivia with her ruined dress, I want the person who leaked it in the cells. Understood?”
He nods and goes to walk away.
“And Bast?” I call after him.
He stops to look over his shoulder, waiting.
“If you’re gonna fuck Olivia’s best friend, make sure she knows you’re not committing. The last thing I need is for my wife to have more ammo against me because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”
He scoffs a laugh, “Sure, boss.”
I end up back in the drawing room, the house around me quiet as I rewatch the footage from the security camera. Anger runs through me as I watch her spill the wine on my wife but it’s Olivia that keeps all my attention.
She completely shuts down as everyone stares on, a deer caught in headlights as she did nothing but stand there. My eyes flick to the ruined wedding dress hanging in the corner of the room, the red stain looking offensive. She looked so stunning in that dress, it’s such a shame it’s now ruined.
And the underwear, sitting in the top drawer of this desk, had a red stain on the waistband, nothing too serious but the fabric is light and it’s unlikely it’ll come out. A waste.
Dropping my eyes to my computer,I open my email and fire off a message to the boutique it was purchased from. Even if she never wears it again, I want her to have another one.
Closing the laptop, I spin the glass before I lift it and down the remaining whiskey inside. It’s late now, the darkness beyond the window impenetrable and I walk slowly down the halls of the manor home I’ve lived in since I was a child.
These walls have seen a lot, death, secrets, betrayal but it is home. As I get closer to the central point of the house, the sound of the cleaners fills my ears, tidying up the garden room and grand hall but I don’t check on them. I take the stairs two at a time before I come to a stop at my bedroom door.
Will she be inside?
Granted, she wouldn’t be able to get back into the bedroom she was using since I’d had locks installed and only I had the key, but that didn’t mean she didn’t go wandering and fell asleep in one of the many other vacant rooms in this house.
I compress the handle slowly, staying quiet as it opens up into the room.
And there she is.
Curled under the sheets in the middle of the bed, her midnight black hair a stark contrast to the white pillows beneath her head. She has her back to me, her breathing even, body still.
I slowly walk around the bed, coming to a stop in front of her as I lean in and gently brush a silky soft strand of hair from her sleeping face. Her lashes flutter at the whisper of my touch, a sigh parting herplump lips. She’s in the pajamas I’d found for her, the sheets pulled up to her chin.
My eyes on her, I start to strip out of the shirt I’m wearing, unbuttoning each button slowly before I tug it off my shoulders and throw it toward the hamper in the corner of the room. My pants come off next and follows the shirt to the washing, leaving me in just a pair of boxers.
I lose track of time as I stand there watching her but eventually, I go to the bathroom and take a shower before I grab some flannel pants and pull them on.
It’s been a fucking long ass day.
She’s still in the same position when I come out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam following me and my feet sink into the carpet as I move around the bed, climbing in behind her.
A small sigh escapes her again and then she turns, settling onto her back, a small little frown creasing her brow. I resist the urge to smooth it out and flick the lights off, laying there with her beside me in thedarkness.
My thumb spins the new wedding band on my finger, round and round as I inhale her scent, the natural fragrance of hers now mixed with my own, thanks to the products she used in the shower and her body rubbing up against my sheets.
It’s a heady mix and a somewhat primal feeling blooms in my chest. My woman. My wife. Smelling like me.
She shifts again next to me, turning onto her side and her hand lands on my bare chest as she scooches closer. My muscles stiffen at her touch, her soft skin on mine and when I feel her breath tickle the side of my neck, her lips so damn close, I almost break.
I remember every second of the kiss we shared at the altar, the way she tasted, the way she yielded to me. Her fingers curl, nails digging into my skin, and I have to stifle a groan, blood shooting straight to my cock.
She snuggles in further, relaxing once more as I lay there deathly still, my cock rock hard.
