His Hidden Wife
“Want to go another round?” the man whispered, his voice a deep, sultry melody that wrapped around Cynthia Jones like velvet, tinged with a flicker of unfulfilled desire.
Cynthia’s gaze fell to the floor, where the remnants of their passion lay scattered–her delicate lace lingerie tangled with his tailored suit, the torn fabric of her dress crumpled in disarray, il a pair of high heels positioned like forgotten tokens beneath the couch.
“No, I’m tired,” she murmured, feigning nonchalance. He had stamina–she had nearly cried out for mercy only moments ago. Yet, her fingers, betraying her resolve, began to trace the solid contours of his abs, marvelling at the warmth of his body.
He captured her hand, his voice a tantalising mix of temptation and challenge. “Don’t tease me. I might lose control.”
Cynthia laughed, making her enchanting face more vibrant. Her luminous eyes sparkled like stars, and her lips, bold and trims on, promised more than just playful banter. Cascading blonde waves framed her sun-kissed skin, accentuating the beauty mark that adorned the corner of her eye, lending her an almost ethereal allure.
The man stared at her intensely, consumed by an overwhelming urge to pounce on her again.
“Come on! If I can’t touch you anymore, I’ll miss it more than you know,” she teased, that infectious grin illuminating her face.
Instantly, the man froze. The temperature in the room plummeted as his expression hardened. “What do you mean?”
Cynthia tossed aside the thin blanket, rose to her feet, and swiftly dressed before she retrieved a check from her bag and approached him. “Honey, here’s five million dollars as compensation, and you can keep the villa too.”
The check slipped into his palm like a quiet ultimatum. However, his response was a volatile mix of confusion and anger.
“Cynthia, are you trying to break up with me?” His voice dropped low, barely concealing the storm brewing beneath the surface.
Cynthia remained composed, her hand lifting his chin tenderly as she pressed a swift kiss against his lips. “My husband is back, so I can’t keep playing this game. Let’s call it quits.”
The man’s expression darkened, shadows flickering across his face–a mixture of hurt and rage.
“Sweetie, if you ever need anything in the future, just give me a call,” Cynthia whispered, planting another soft kiss on his perfect lips.
Then she turned, bag in hand, and left the room. Just a few steps away, a crash shattered the quiet behind her, but she didn’t look back. Instead, a resigned smile graced her lips.
She had kept him as a secret lover for three years. What had felt real had only ever been a mirage–an illusion of affection that never quite held its ground. Still, she knew the suddenness of this breakup might be hard for him.
After exiting the villa, Cynthia drove straight to the airport. Filip Yates, her husband–who had spent the last three years overseas entwined with another–was returning, succumbing at last to the unyielding pressure of family.
“Cynthia, even though we’ve known each other forever and dated for two years, I don’t have any feelings for you.”
“I only love Lilian. If it weren’t for my grandfather’s pressure, I wouldn’t have married you at all.”
“I won’t touch you. That’s my promise to Lilian.”
