Chapter 12

I stood beside Roslyn, hosting the success party for the biggest deal of my company. We presented a united front, a perfect couple to the world. But behind closed doors, we were nothing more than two strangers sharing a facade.

It had been a year of marriage, and I hadn't touched my wife yet. Not because I was repulsed by her—Roslyn was stunning—but because I vowed never to force myself on any woman. I wanted passion, not obligation.

But tonight, Roslyn looked breathtaking, her beauty radiating like a beacon, drawing every male eye in the room. I hated it. Resented the way they ogled her, their gazes lingering on her curves.

Then, to my dismay, one of my business partners, James, approached Roslyn, requesting a dance. She should have refused and sent him packing with a polite smile. But that stupid woman accepted, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Without wasting another moment, they glided onto the dance floor, lost in the swirling lights and pulsating music. Everyone around me was entranced by their own conversations, laughter, and the rhythm, but I was transfixed by the pair.

James's hands rested on Roslyn's waist, his fingers splayed possessively as they swayed to the beat. My wife didn't push him away; she didn't establish boundaries. Instead, she smiled up at him, her eyes shining with warmth I'd never seen before.

My patience snapped. I couldn't watch my reputation unravel before my eyes. The room blurred around me as I focused on the dancing couple, my mind racing with indignation.

Who did James think he was, touching my wife with such familiarity? And Roslyn—didn't she care about our marriage, our image?

The music, laughter, and chatter receded into the background as I stood there, seething, my eyes fixed on the dance floor, my heart burning with a mix of anger, possessiveness, and frustration.

I strode towards my wife, my anger propelling me forward, and caught her elbow in a firm grip. Without uttering a word, I dragged her outside, away from prying eyes and James's grasping hands.

Roslyn was shocked and confused, her eyes wide with alarm, but she didn't resist or ask questions. She merely followed, her heels clicking on the pavement.

I pushed her inside the car, slamming the door shut behind her, making her flinch. The sound echoed through the night air.

I settled into the driver's seat, the engine roared to life, and I sped away from the party, leaving music and laughter behind. My anger simmered, boiling over at thought of James's hands on Roslyn.

But my ire was directed more at Roslyn—how dare she give that bastard an opportunity to touch her?

The drive to our mansion was a blur, my mind consumed by visions of James's fingers on Roslyn's waist, her smile, and her laughter.

We arrived, and I leapt out of the car, flinging open Roslyn's door and hauling her out. She followed me.

The moment we stepped into the mansion, I pinned her to the wall, my hands grasping her shoulders, my eyes blazing with accusation.

"So now you've started seducing other men," I growled, voice low and menacing.

Roslyn's eyes widened, her face pale. "What are you saying?" she whispered.

"Don't act innocent. You need a man, and I'm here. I can fuck you if you want, but don't you dare seduce any man and ruin my reputation."

Roslyn's eyes grew wider, horror etched on her face.

"Are you angry because I danced with that man? But he was my friend, my college friend."

My grip on her shoulders tightened. "Oh, that must be your college boyfriend. That's why you're so comfortable with him, right?"

Roslyn's voice rose in protest, but I didn't listen. My lips crushed hers, and I bit her neck, her moan of pain echoing through the room.

"What are you...ahhhhh!" Roslyn's cry was lost in the sound of my heavy breathing, her body trembling beneath mine.

My anger still raged, unchecked and primal, claiming her and marking her mine.

Alexander's lips returned to Roslyn's neck, his teeth sinking deeper, leaving another mark. But this time, something stirred within him—a primal urge, a possessive spark.

He bit again, and his mouth began to suckle her skin, the marks a testament to his claim. Roslyn's moans grew louder, a mixture of pain and pleasure.

Alexander's control began to unravel, the alcohol coursing through his veins fueling his desires. His kisses trailed down her neck, his tongue dancing across her skin.

With one hand, he caressed her back, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine. Roslyn's confusion was palpable, but she couldn't deny the pleasure spreading through her.

It had been almost a year since they'd been this close, since they'd last explored the passion that once burned between them. Alexander's touch awakened dormant emotions, and Roslyn's body responded.

Her hands, once clenched at her sides, now grasped his arms, her fingers digging into his skin. Alexander's grip on her tightened, and his mouth still fastened on her neck.

The room around them melted away, leaving only the two of them, lost in this tumultuous dance. Alexander's desire raged, unchecked and raw.

Roslyn's thoughts swirled, her mind struggling to keep pace with her body's betrayal. She shouldn't enjoy this; she shouldn't crave Alexander's touch. But her traitorous heart pounded, urging her to surrender.

As Alexander's lips continued their assault, Roslyn's resistance crumbled. Her head tilted, granting him better access, and a soft sigh escaped her lips.

Alexander's response was immediate—his hold on her intensified, his mouth claiming her as his. The world around them narrowed to a single, primal truth: they were husband and wife, bound by flesh and fire.

Alexander's gaze locked onto Roslyn's, his eyes burning with desire. He scanned her face, lingering on her lips—dry yet inviting. He yearned to claim them, to taste the sweetness within.

Inching closer, his lips almost brushed against hers, but Roslyn's eyes darted away, refusing the intimacy. Alexander paused, taken aback. She wasn't ready to surrender to a kiss.

How weird, he thought. This woman is a puzzle. She wants me, yet denies me her lips. What kind of relationship would this be?

Despite the confusion, Alexander's desire didn't waver. He craved her, and she'd already surrendered to that craving.

With a swift motion, he unzipped her dress, the sound echoing through the room. The garment slid down her body, pooling on the floor, leaving her half-naked.

Alexander's eyes never left hers, seeking permission. Roslyn's cheeks flushed, and she looked down, her lashes veiling her gaze.

"Look at me," Alexander whispered, his voice husky.

Roslyn's eyes flickered up, and he saw the consent there, though unspoken.

With a gentle yet firm grasp, Alexander lifted her off the floor and laid her on the bed. He hovered above, his body looming over hers, his eyes never breaking contact.

"Tell me you want this," he urged, his voice low and urgent.

Roslyn's lips parted, but no words emerged. Instead, she nodded, her eyes locked on his.

Alexander's gaze roamed her face, drinking in the desire and hesitation mingling there. He understood—she was his, yet not fully.

With a gentle touch, he began to explore her body, tracing the curves and contours. Roslyn's breath hitched, her body responding to his caresses.

As Alexander's fingers danced across her skin, Roslyn's thoughts swirled. She'd surrendered to her husband, yet withheld her lips. Why?

The sensations building within her overshadowed her doubts. Alexander's touch ignited a fire, melting her reservations.

In this moment, she belonged to him—body, if not heart. And Alexander, driven by passion, didn't care about the distinction.

Alexander's desire consumed him, oblivious to Roslyn's emotions. He sought only his own pleasure, and Roslyn knew it. Yet she loved him, her husband, and was willing to surrender her body.

But her lips were different. They were sacred, reserved for the man who would love her truly. Roslyn vowed to withhold that intimacy until Alexander's heart belonged to her.

As Alexander shed his clothes, Roslyn's cheeks flamed. She couldn't meet his gaze, her modesty struggling against the carnal hunger surrounding her.

Alexander's hands moved to her undergarments, and with a gentle tug, they slipped away. Roslyn's blush deepened, her eyes darting toward the bedsheet.

"Don't look away," Alexander whispered, his voice husky.

But Roslyn couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. She felt exposed, vulnerable.

Alexander's body covered hers, his warmth spreading through her. He pulled the blanket over them, enveloping them in a private, intimate world.

As they lay there, Roslyn's thoughts swirled. She longed for Alexander to love her, to cherish more than just her body.

Alexander's hands began to explore her, his touch sending shivers down her spine. Roslyn's body responded, despite her reservations.

In the darkness beneath the blanket, their bodies entwined. Alexander's passion drove him, but Roslyn's heart remained guarded, waiting for the day he'd love her truly.

Their union was silent; the only sound was their ragged breathing. Roslyn's emotions tangled—love, desire, and the ache of unrequited affection.

As they finished, Alexander's weight settled beside her. Roslyn's eyes remained closed, her thoughts drifting to the future.

Perhaps someday Alexander would understand the value of her lips, the symbol of her love. Until then, she'd hold onto that secret, cherishing the dream of a love that would one day set her soul ablaze.

Alexander rolled off her; he didn't even glance in Roslyn's direction. The indifference cut deeper than the physical pain.

Tears welled up in her eyes, slipping silently down her cheeks. Her body felt heavy, numb, and battered. Her legs trembled, then went limp, unable to support her.

Roslyn lay there, fRoseen in anguish, her mind reeling from the encounter. The discomfort and pain lingered, a harsh reminder of Alexander's detachment.

Time lost all meaning as she drifted, her thoughts fragmented and sorrowful. The darkness closed in, and eventually exhaustion claimed her.

Sleep descended, a welcome escape from the anguish. Tears continued to fall, dampening the pillow beneath her cheek.

As the night wore on, Roslyn's slumber was fitful, punctuated by whispers of memories. Memories of a love that once was, or perhaps never was.

The flashback faded, leaving Alexander standing in the present, his expression somber.

Roslyn's voice barely above a whisper: "We don't have any kids, and I don't have any expectations." Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions.

Alexander's gaze remained fixed on the wall, his expression vacant, his thoughts elsewhere. The stark admission seemed to reverberate through the room.

"No expectations," he repeated, his voice devoid of inflection, his eyes still fixed on the blank wall.

The simplicity of Roslyn's statement belied the complexity of their relationship. Years of unfulfilled longings, unspoken desires, and unresolved conflicts.

Judge Reynolds' eyes narrowed, his attention shifting between the couple. "And why is that, Mrs. Alexander? Did you both mutually agree on this, or was it a decision made by one party?"

Roslyn's shoulders sagged, her voice laced with resignation. "It just...happened. We drifted apart, and our priorities changed. Children became a distant dream, lost amidst our...disconnection."

Alexander's silence was deafening, his stare unyielding. His thoughts, however, were a jumble of regret, guilt, and longing.

The courtroom fell silent, the only sound being the soft rustling of papers, the quiet hum of the air conditioning, and the heavy weight of unspoken truths.

Judge Reynolds leaned forward, his voice gentle yet probing. "Mr. Alexander, would you like to add anything to your wife's testimony?"

Alexander's gaze slowly shifted, his eyes locking onto Roslyn's. For an instant, their gazes met, and the past swirled around them like a vortex.

His voice, barely above a whisper, "I... don't know."

Judge Reynolds' eyes scanned the room, his voice a gentle prompt. "Okay, let's move on. Is there any joint property or demand for compensation?"

Roslyn's gaze drifted to Alexander, her voice laced with a mix of sadness and resolve. "I only expected some respect and care from this man during our three years together, which he has failed to give me."

Her eyes locked onto Alexander's, and for an instant, the air was charged with unspoken emotions.

"So, now I don't want anything from him," Roslyn continued, her voice steady. "I don't want to make his bitter lies come true—that I'm just a gold digger, interested only in his wealth."

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