Mark's P.O.V.
I knew she was lying.
Hrrgh… this woman really gets on my nerves.
I strode across the room, my footsteps echoing with intent. Without a word, I grabbed her arm, pulled her to her feet, and spun her around. My left arm wrapped tightly around her waist, pinning her against my chest.
"Listen to me," I growled, my voice low and dangerous. "It's either you obey me… or I'll do things you definitely won't like." I leaned in, letting my hot breath brush her delicate ear. I felt her shudder in my grip and God I enjoyed it.
"O-Okay… I will," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't like I meant to make her feel bad. I'd only gone drinking because I ran into a few old friends. One thing led to another, and I had a few drinks to catch up. Maybe I said some things I shouldn't have. Maybe I came off harsh. I know I can get rude when I'm drunk. But last night… I didn't think it would hurt her this badly.
Aurora's P.O.V.
I still can't believe this man just harassed me in our closet. What he did was torture… sweet, hot, unforgivable torture. My whole face was flushed. God, it was so embarrassing.
I was sitting quietly on my stool, wearing my soft pink robe, glossing my lips trying to calm myself when suddenly, he yanked me up. Before I could even breathe, I was face to face with Mark. My eyes widened. I squeaked. His body was warm. Too close. Too much. "The gown is already in your closet," he whispered, voice like silk wrapped in fire. "You're terrible at lying, darling."
I shivered. His breath danced against my skin, sending chills through me. I know you're mad at me, but how long are you going to keep punishing me for a mistake?" His voice softened, almost tender. "We're leaving together, whether you like it or not." Then, he said it.
"Unless… you want me to dress you myself."
In one swift tug, he pulled the strings of my robe. I gasped. My eyes widened in panic.
There I stood, trembling, clad in nothing but a black lacy bra and matching panties. My breath hitched. Our bare skin brushed and I felt it. His arousal. Poking hard against my thigh. I looked down and my eyes widened even more. Oh my God. I glanced back up at him, but he wasn't giving me room to think. His hands roamed over my skin, setting it on fire, and before I knew it, they were inside my panties. I bit down on my lip hard to suppress a moan. "Ahh… please just go get the gown," He whispered, breathless.
Tears began falling. My mind was spiraling desire, fear, anger all clashing in a storm. He let go, stepped back, and without another word, walked out. The Drive to Maxwell's Mansion was something else…
The tension in the car was suffocating. I stared out the window. My makeup was ruined from crying. I'd gone through at least ten tissues. He looked out his window too
silent, unreadable.
My body was trembling. I know he's my husband… but what he did back there it felt like harassment. I didn't know how to feel.
"Auro—"
"Don't," I snapped, cutting him off.
The car screeched to a halt outside Maxwell's estate. I swung the door open and stepped out, slamming it behind me. From the reflection in the tinted window, I saw him watching me. He always watched me.
Mark's P.O.V.
I let out a heavy sigh as I stared at her walking away. Damn. She looked like sin itself in that tight emerald green gown. Off-shoulder, backless, hugging her curves like second skin. A slit ran down the side, flashing her perfect, long legs with every step. She was radiant. And she was mine.I adjusted my jacket and stepped out after her.
The halls of Maxwell's mansion were a testament to wealth and class. Marble floors gleamed under crystal chandeliers. Every corner boasted priceless art. The waiters moved with the precision of trained butlers, dressed in crisp white gloves and black tuxedos. "Sir, this way please," one of them said with a slight bow. "Thank you."
As I followed him into the main ballroom, I was genuinely impressed. The decor was stunning black and gold themed, with towering floral arrangements and golden tableware. Everything screamed elegance. The room was filled with the country's top elites CEOs, oil magnates, royal diplomats, and foreign investors. And there they stood Angel and Maxwell the stars of the night.
Angel looked like a dream in her shimmering champagne-colored gown, adorned with pearls. Maxwell stood tall beside her in a navy velvet tuxedo, radiating power and charm. The crowd of guests, mostly business tycoons, politicians, and old-money legacies, clinked their glasses and laughed among themselves.
Expensive colognes, clinking champagne glasses, and subtle whispers filled the air. You could smell old money in the room.Their anniversary party wasn't just an event it was a statement.