Credit card statements for afternoon hotel rooms across town. Burner phones. Jewelry receipts.
It wasn’t a sudden lapse in judgment. It wasn’t a drunken mistake between neighbors. The PI had tracked their movements, their texts, and their financial trails to paint a horrifyingly clear picture.
They had been screwing each other behind his and Rosália’s backs for more than three months.
For over ninety days, David had been crawling out of his wife’s cold bed to fuck Katherine, and Katherine had been eagerly opening her legs for a married man before coming home to play house with Sean’s money. They had looked Sean and Rosália in the eyes, smiled, and made absolute fools out of them.
Sean finished his bourbon, the liquid burning a welcome path down his throat. He set the empty crystal glass on a passing waiter’s tray. His dark eyes scanned the ballroom until they found the grand double doors at the entrance.
And it was at that exact moment that the woman he had been waiting for all night finally walked through them.
The breath stalled in Sean’s chest.
Rosália stepped into the ballroom wearing a beautiful, sweeping gown in a deep, intoxicating shade of blood red. The color was devastating on her, meticulously chosen to highlight the warm, golden glow of her tanned skin. The silk clung to her collarbones before plunging into a tasteful but deeply alluring neckline, wrapping tightly around her narrow waist and skimming over the soft, feminine flare of her hips. A thigh-high slit offered fleeting, maddening glimpses of her long, toned legs with every step she took. Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant, effortless style, leaving the long, delicate line of her neck completely bare.
She looked like absolute royalty. She looked untouchable.
Sean couldn’t look away. The ambient noise of the ballroom faded into a dull roar. He had noticed her before, of course. From the very first week he had moved into the neighborhood, he had seen the beautiful, vibrant architect walking to her car or tending to her garden. He wasn’t blind. But it had never gone beyond an appreciative, respectful glance at a married neighbor.
Yet now... now that the invisible boundaries had been shattered, it was impossible to rein in his thoughts. Looking ather bathed in the golden light of the chandeliers, her chin held high despite the absolute hell she was walking through, Sean felt a heavy, primal pull of pure desire low in his gut. It was hard not to let his mind wander, to visualize that heavy red silk pooled on his bedroom floor. He imagined what it would feel like to have her in his bed—to map every inch of that golden skin with his mouth, to tear away the loneliness her husband had forced on her, and to see what she looked like completely undone beneath him.
Without a second of hesitation, Sean pushed off the marble pillar and walked directly across the crowded floor toward them.
He didn’t acknowledge David. He stopped right in front of Rosália, holding her dark, wide gaze.
“Rosália,” he murmured, his deep voice easily cutting through the surrounding chatter.
He extended his hand. When she tentatively placed her smaller hand in his, he didn’t just shake it. He bowed his head slightly, pressing a warm, deliberate kiss to the back of her hand, letting his lips linger against her soft skin for much longer than polite etiquette required. He felt her pulse jump under his mouth.
Instead of stepping back, Sean used his grip on her hand to smoothly pull her into a half-embrace. He leaned down, his mouth hovering just a fraction of an inch from her ear, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her expensive perfume.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered, his voice a low, dark rumble meant only for her. “The most elegant woman in this entire hall.”
When he pulled back, a soft, genuine smile had broken through the tension on Rosália’s face, a delicate flush rising to her cheeks.
Beside her, David cleared his throat. It was a harsh, grating sound.
Sean slowly shifted his gaze. David was glaring at him, a deep, territorial scowl marring his perfectly curated features. With a possessive jerk, David reached out, wrapping his hand around Rosália’s waist to pull her flush against his side and assert his dominance.
Sean watched, a dark smirk playing on his lips, as Rosália reacted instantly.
She didn’t make a scene, but her rejection was absolute. She quickly and smoothly shifted her weight, stepping out of David’s hold and creating a cold, deliberate foot of empty space between them.
David blinked, his hand falling uselessly to his side. He looked down at his wife, entirely confused by the sudden, freezing distance, his brow furrowing in irritation. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, a flash of sparkling gold caught Sean’s eye.
Katherine arrived, practically bouncing to a stop beside Sean, her face plastered with a wide, breathless smile.
“David! Rosália! You made it!” she chirped brightly.
For a split second, Sean’s chest tightened. He watched Rosália carefully. After the devastating video on the terrace, he wouldn’t have blamed her if she slapped Katherine across theface or simply burst into tears. He wondered if she would be able to hide the absolute disgust churning in her stomach.
But Rosália showed him exactly how incredibly strong she was.
Her spine straightened like a rod of steel. The polite, flawless mask of the gallery director slid perfectly into place. She looked at the woman who was sleeping with her husband and offered a warm, gracious smile.
“Katherine,” Rosália said, her voice dripping with her usual friendliness and absolute kindness. “You look lovely tonight. Thank you so much for having us.”
It was a masterclass in composure. Sean felt a surge of profound, fierce admiration for the woman in red.
