Chapter 71
Sean POV
I stood in the darkness of our bedroom, watching Angela sleep. She lay curled on her side, and even in the dim light, I could see the traces of dried tears on her cheeks. The sight made something in my chest tighten uncomfortably.
Evan's words from earlier at the Plaza bar kept echoing in my head:
"You can't have it both ways, Sean. You can't keep playing this game with both of them."
I'd brushed off his concern at the time, but now, watching Angela's troubled sleep, those words carried a different weight.
She seemed different lately-more withdrawn, less energetic.
The Angela I knew would never miss our morning meetings, yet lately she'd been arriving late, looking pale and tired.
Without thinking, I reached out to smooth the worry lines from her forehead. My fingers were still cold from the scotch glass, and the contact made her eyes snap open, immediately alert and wary.
"What are you doing here?" Her voice was rough with sleep but sharp with accusation. "Shouldn't you be at the hospital with Christina?"
I withdrew my hand slowly, noting how she shifted away from my touch. "We need to talk about your lunch with Christopher today."
A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she pushed herself up. "That's rich, coming from you. Did you enjoy your midnight strawberry hunt for Christina? The Instagram post was quite touching."
"Don't deflect. You've been spending an awful lot of time with Christopher since his return." I couldn't keep the edge from my voice. "And let's not forget your cozy conversations with Nathan Harrison."
"Are you having me followed now?" Angela's voice dripped with derision. "How thoughtful of you to take such an interest in my social life, considering you can barely spare a moment away from Christina's hospital bedside."
"This isn't about Christina."
I moved closer, bracing my hands on the bed. "What I want to know is why Christopher Blake suddenly seems to be everywhere you are. The lunch dates, the private conversations, the way his car lingers outside Shaw Tower-"
"Stop." She held up a hand, her voice tight with controlled anger. "This is exactly what you wanted, isn't it? A marriage of convenience, each of us free to pursue our own interests?"
"Is that what Christopher is to you? An 'interest'?"
Before I could stop myself, I closed the distance between us, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss. Angela remained rigid for a moment before shoving me away, her palm connecting sharply with my chest.
"If you're looking for a sex toy, go find Christina!"
I stepped back, her words hitting me like a physical blow.
How could I explain this surge of emotion that had driven me to kiss her?
Every time I imagined her with another man-having lunch with Christopher, smiling at Nathan-something inside me snapped. I'd come here tonight intending to comfort her, to have a real conversation.
How had it turned into another fight?
The silence that followed was deafening. Angela turned away first, lying back down with deliberate casualness.
"We should get some rest. Elizabeth has her hospital appointment tomorrow morning."
I stood there for a long moment, watching as she pulled the covers up and effectively dismissed me.
The familiar scent of her perfume seemed to mock me, reminding me of countless nights when the line between business and pleasure had blurred dangerously.
In my study, I poured another scotch, though the one from the Plaza still sat heavy in my stomach. My phone lit up with a text from Christina, but for once, I ignored it.
Instead, I found myself scrolling through photos of Angela-moments captured over our two years of marriage.
Her laughing with Elizabeth over Sunday brunch,
her concentrated expression during board meetings,
her peaceful face as she dozed against my shoulder during late-night car rides home.
Evan's parting words haunted me: "You need to be honest with yourself, Sean. Could you really watch her build a life with someone else? Because that's where this path leads."
The ache was a living thing now, throbbing in my chest and lower still. I shoved my pants down, boxers too, my cock springing free-hard, leaking already.
I gripped it tight, staring into her frozen eyes as my hand moved, rough and fast. I pictured her beneath me, thighs spread wide, her wet heat swallowing me whole, her moans filling the air.
My balls tightened, sweat beading on my neck as I pumped harder, the photo shaking in my other hand.
Her name slipped out-a hoarse, broken sound-until I came, hot and messy across my fist, the pleasure sharp as a blade, leaving me panting and wrecked in the silence.
When exhaustion finally claimed me, I chose the leather sofa over returning to our bedroom.
Morning arrived with unsettling abruptness, announced by a familiar voice that sent me bolting upright.
"Sean?" My mother's refined tones carried clearly from the foyer. "Why on earth are you sleeping on the sofa?"
I blinked against the morning light, my neck stiff from the awkward position. The sound of Angela's bedroom door opening down the hall told me this morning's performance was about to begin-another carefully choreographed dance of pretending our marriage was everything it appeared to be.
"Why did you suddenly come back?" I asked, straightening my rumpled shirt and studying my mother's face carefully. Something about her unexpected appearance made me uneasy.
"Can't a mother visit her son without a reason?" Victoria replied smoothly, but I caught the calculating look in her eyes as she glanced toward the master bedroom.
"I thought we could all have breakfast together. You, me, Angela... and perhaps you can explain why my son is sleeping on the sofa instead of in his bed."