Chapter 151

Angela POV

"Why can't you just admit you're pissed at me over another woman!"

Sean's accusation hit like a slap. I felt exposed, as if he'd peeled back my carefully constructed facade and revealed the raw hurt beneath. Yet even as I recognized the truth in his words, indignation flared within me.

"Don't flatter yourself," I replied coldly, trying to mask how his words had pierced me. "I'm not jealous. I simply despise men who can't remain faithful or constant."

My mind flashed unexpectedly to last month's charity auction. I'd spotted Sean across the ballroom, Christina Jordan clinging to his arm, her red lips curving into a possessive smile as she whispered something in his ear. The image burned in my memory, bringing a bitter taste to my mouth.

"There's nothing between Christina and me," Sean insisted, his green eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

Before I could snap back, his hands were on me-strong fingers curling around my hips, yanking me flush against him. My back hit the cool metal of the car as his body pinned me.

"What do I have now, Angela?" he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "All I have are these tiny changes in your demeanor to judge whether you still feel anything for me. Even if it's just a trace."

I remained rigid in his embrace, desperately fighting to maintain my composure. I felt like ice, frozen in his arms, unable to move away yet refusing to yield.

"What exactly are you trying to say?" I challenged, injecting as much derision into my voice as possible. "Has the mighty CEO of Shaw Group suddenly turned sentimental?"

Sean's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "Can't you hear what I'm saying, Angela?"

His voice echoed in the empty parking garage, amplifying the tension between us.

"Let me guess," I said with mock thoughtfulness, my tone deliberately provocative. "You regret our divorce? You want to start over? The great Sean Shaw wants to give us another chance?"

I infused each word with scorn, already preparing the cutting rejection I would deliver when he admitted it. Part of me anticipated-perhaps even hoped for-seeing him retreat the way he had five years ago.

But Sean saw through my strategy. His lips curved into a knowing smile that sent a jolt of awareness through me.

"Why provoke me when I've made myself painfully obvious?" he asked softly. "Yes, you're right. I do regret it."

He leaned closer, his face mere inches from mine. I could feel his breath against my lips, the heat of his body overwhelming my senses. Just as our lips nearly touched, I let out a contemptuous laugh.

Sean immediately froze, pulling back slightly.

"And what makes you think I'd ever accept your change of heart?" I demanded.

The garage lighting cast harsh shadows across his handsome features, highlighting the intensity in his gaze.

"You were the one who contacted the lawyer first," I continued, the old pain seeping into my voice despite my efforts to sound indifferent. "You initiated our divorce, Sean. You walked away first."

"I gave you what you wanted," he countered. "Filing for divorce was fulfilling your wish."

"My wish?" I repeated incredulously.

"Don't you remember what happened after our first night together?" Sean's eyes darkened with hurt. "You called it 'just a normal physiological need.' As if what we shared meant nothing."

His voice hardened as he continued, "And then you asked me for five million dollars in compensation. You turned what we had into a transaction."

"That money was an investment," I shot back defensively. "I've already returned every cent through the investment account. I don't owe you anything."

I tried to step around him toward my car, but he blocked my path.

"The money was never the issue," Sean said, frustration evident in his tone. "It was how easily you dismissed what happened between us. And then there was your confession about Christopher."

I stared at him, genuinely confused. In my recollection, Sean had been the one to call our night together "an accident," forcing me to save face by agreeing it was merely physical.

"Wasn't it you who said that night was just an accident?" I challenged, my voice steady despite my racing heart. "Those were your exact words."

Sean's expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

"Or are you changing your story now?" I pressed, sarcasm dripping from my words. "Should I believe you had ulterior motives all along? Even Hollywood's best screenwriters wouldn't buy that script."

"Why not?" Sean asked simply.

The question hung between us in the silent garage.

His hand moved to the nape of my neck, gentle yet firm as he drew me closer once more. I could feel his breath caressing my cheek, his lips hovering just above mine.

"Haven't you ever considered," Sean whispered, his emerald eyes gleaming dangerously in the dim light,

"that I might have wanted you all along? That night wasn't an accident, Angela. I truly wanted you."