Loraine's POV
The atmosphere in the bedroom was suffocating, thick with the scent of unspent desire and the bitter sting of regret.
Stranton was hovering, his hands still trembling slightly from the moment I'd challenged him.
He looked like a man standing before a feast he had been told was poisoned.
"You like this, don't you?" he rasped,
his eyes dragging over me, taking in the way the silk clung to my curves,
the way I stood with the effortless grace of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing to him.
"You like watching me fall apart."
I didn't answer with words.
I just looked at him, almost bored.
I was his wife-the woman whose image was plastered across magazines, the designer everyone whispered about, the woman he had worked so hard to keep on his mantle-and yet,
he had never been further away from me than he was in this room.
"I like knowing that for all your power,
for all your control in the boardroom,
you're completely helpless when it comes to me," I said, stepping back so he couldn't reach me.
"That's the difference, Stranton. You're an asset to the company, but to me? You're just a reminder of a mistake."
He reached out, but I pivoted, avoiding his touch.
"I'm going to sleep," I said, casting a final, lingering glance over my shoulder.
"In my own bed. Alone. And don't flatter yourself thinking I'm suffering. If I need to be satisfied, I am more than capable of handling that myself."
"There are plenty of ways to enjoy my own body without your hands anywhere near it."
I saw the color drain from his face, his eyes widening as the image clearly took hold in his mind-the thought of me, alone in my sheets, touching myself, pleasure that he was denied, pleasure that had nothing to do with him.
His hands balled into fists, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to follow me.
"Don't," he choked out, his voice raw with jealousy and frustration.
"Goodnight," I said, walking out. I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing behind me, the sound of a man drowning in his own hunger.
.....
The next morning, the ritual of the "Hot Wife" was a necessary weapon. I dressed in a form-fitting charcoal suit for the board meeting, my hair pulled into a sleek, severe style that emphasized my cheekbones.
I picked up my designer handbag-an elegant, structural piece that cost more than a mid-level manager's salary-and met him by the door.
Stranton looked like he hadn't slept a wink.
He watched me with a hunger that was undisguised, his eyes tracking every movement as I stood by the car.
He looked like he wanted to reach out, to touch me, to reclaim-but he didn't dare.
He knew that one wrong move,
one pushy gesture,
and I would shut him out entirely.
"You look..." he started, his voice thick, unable to finish the sentence as he took in the perfection of my appearance.
"Ready to handle our board members?" I finished, smoothing my skirt.
"Try to keep up, Stranton. Today is about business. My focus is on the company."
I stepped into the car, the scent of my perfume-light, floral, and intoxicating-filling the small space.
I watched him climb in beside me, his gaze lingering far too long on the way the fabric hugged my legs, his jaw tightening.
He was a man starving for her light, yet he watched from the shadows, knowing he was the very architect of the walls that kept her apart from him.
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A/N: What do we think? Thank you for reading. Please do not forget to vote or leave a comment If you liked this Chapter! I will see you guys on the next Chapter. Sending you all good energy and wishing you all a great day ahead!
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