Chapter 90

Angela POV

Christopher's amber eyes held mine with quiet intensity across the elegant expanse of the Plaza's private dining room. "I believe that decision belongs to Angela, doesn't it?"

Sean's presence seemed to fill the entire space, his barely contained fury radiating like heat. The other diners had fallen silent, sensing the tension crackling between the three of us.

"Take. Your. Hands. Off. My. Wife." Each word dropped like ice from Sean's lips.

Christopher's fingers remained gentle but firm around mine. "You seem upset, old friend. Perhaps you'd like to join us for lunch? We were just discussing the fascinating topic of marriage contracts."

I watched Sean's jaw clench, the muscle ticking beneath his skin. Without warning, Sean strode forward and landed a solid punch across Christopher's face. The sudden violence sent ripples of shock through the elegant dining room.

"Sean!" I quickly pulled away from Christopher's grasp and positioned myself between them, glaring at Sean. "What do you think you're doing?"

Sean's expression darkened further at my intervention. "You're actually protecting him?" His voice trembled with barely contained rage. "Get out of my way!"

I glanced around the restaurant, noting the growing crowd of spectators. Several had already pulled out their phones, eagerly waiting to capture more drama between Manhattan's elite.

"Come home with me!" Sean commanded.

Christopher leaned back in his chair, studying Sean with that maddeningly calm expression he'd perfected.

"I don't believe Angela has finished her lunch. And we were in the middle of quite an important discussion about her future."

"Her future?" Sean's laugh held no humor. "And I suppose you see yourself playing a significant role in that future, Blake?"

"That depends entirely on Angela, doesn't it?" Christopher's gaze shifted to me, carrying a weight of unspoken meaning. "Unlike some, I believe she's perfectly capable of making her own choices."

"Enough." I stood, smoothing my skirt with practiced composure. "You're both acting like children. Christopher, thank you for lunch, but I think it's best if I handle this privately."

"Angel-" Christopher started to rise, but I held up a hand to stop him.

"Please." I met his eyes, hoping he could read the silent message there. "I need to do this my way."

Something shifted in his expression-understanding, perhaps, or resignation. He nodded once, settling back into his chair. "Of course. But remember what we discussed. You always have choices."

Sean's hand found the small of my back as we walked toward the exit, his touch possessive enough to make me bristle. The moment we cleared the restaurant doors, I stepped away from him.

"I can walk perfectly well on my own."

"Can you?" His voice carried an edge I rarely heard. "Tell me, Angela, how long has this been going on? Was he always part of your exit strategy?"

The accusation stung more than I wanted to admit. "Don't you dare. You're the one who's been carrying on with Christina this entire time. At least Christopher has never pretended to be anything other than what he is."

"And what exactly is he to you?"

The question hung between us, heavy with implications. Through the lobby's revolving doors, I could see Sean's Bentley waiting at the curb, Peter standing at attention beside it.

"Take me home," I said finally, exhaustion seeping into my voice. "If you want to have this conversation, we'll have it there. Not here, not like this."

As soon as our penthouse door closed behind us, Sean rounded on me. "Well? We're home now. Let's hear it. What exactly is going on between you and Christopher?"

"Nothing is 'going on,'" I snapped, hanging my coat with more force than necessary. "He's been a friend when I needed one. That's all."

"A friend?" Sean's laugh was harsh. "Is that what you call the way he looks at you? The way he touches you every chance he gets?"

"That's none of your business！"

"You're my wife!"

"HaHave you ever fulfilled your duties as a husband?"

I pushed him, but he yanked me back and pinned me against the sofa.

"If that's the case, I'll fulfill my duties as your husband right now!" He leaned down and began kissing me.

"Sean, what are you doing? Go fuck Christina! I'm not your sex toy!"

"My relationship with Christina is pure and innocent. She's nothing like you-so shameless!"

"Let go of me." My voice shook slightly.

"No."

He bites my lip, the sting bringing my focus back to him. He's switched to pining my arms with just one hand, his other sliding up my shirt.

With practiced ease he unclips my bra and cups my breast, giving a sharp squeeze and I gasp.

He hums tugging my shirt up before he bites at my nipple, then soothes the sting with his tongue.

Another bite causes me to arch forward, the look on his face makes me suspect there will be more. Sean stares into my eyes as he unfastens my jeans and slides them down.

He eases my panties off and starts caressing my thighs. Then again, higher to start touching me at my most sensitive area.

He grips me harder, circles my clit and flicks up over it and my breath catches.

"Stop！" I hiss when Sean tries pushing two fingers inside me, without warning or lubrication.

He doesn't listen, using three of his larger fingers to push inside and stroke until I squirm from discomfort.

"I can't do this anymore." I tried to pull away, but he held firm. "I can't keep pretending-"

"Pretending what?" His other hand came up to cup my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. "That you don't feel anything for me? That every time I touch you, your breath doesn't catch? That when I kiss you-"

A slap landed before he could finish. This time when I yanked my hand back, he let me go.

"I love him." The words fell between us like stones into still water. "I love Christopher."

Sean went completely still, his face draining of color. "What did you say?"

"I love him." Each word felt like glass in my throat, but I forced them out anyway. "He loves me too. Has for years, apparently." I laughed, the sound brittle. "He was just waiting for me to be free."

Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. Without warning, he turned and strode toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Out." He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "Have your papers ready in the morning. We'll go to the courthouse first thing."