CHAPTER ELEVEN

Chapter Eleven

The resort was alive with music and laughter as the night party got into full swing. Bright lights danced across the manicured lawns, casting vibrant hues over the throngs of guests who swayed to the rhythmic beats. The air was thick with the mingled scents of perfume, cologne, and the lingering aroma of tropical flowers, creating an atmosphere that buzzed with energy and excitement.

Wanda stood near the bar, nursing a glass of champagne as she watched the crowd. She had agreed to come to the party with Michael, hoping that a night of dancing and celebration might ease the lingering tension between them. But despite the lively surroundings, she couldn’t shake the unease that had settled in her chest. She glanced around, searching for Michael, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Michael, meanwhile, was caught in a different kind of swirl. He moved through the party with a drink in hand, the alcohol loosening his muscles and dulling the edges of his earlier frustrations. He needed this distraction, something to pull him away from the mess of emotions that had tangled between him and Wanda. The pulsating music drowned out his thoughts, each beat syncing with the rapid thud of his heart.

Martha, ever the opportunist, spotted Michael from across the dance floor. She watched him carefully, her eyes narrowing with a predatory glint as she weaved her way through the crowd. She sidled up to him, her smile easy and inviting as she slipped a hand around his waist. “Fancy seeing you here,” she purred, her voice low enough to cut through the din of the party.

Michael turned, his expression momentarily softening as he met her gaze. The alcohol had smoothed out the hard edges of his resolve, leaving him more open to her advances than he might have been otherwise. “Martha,” he greeted, his voice slurring slightly as he tipped his glass in her direction. “Didn’t think you’d be here.”

Martha laughed softly, her fingers trailing up his arm in a way that sent a shiver through him. “You know me,” she teased, her voice a seductive murmur. “I can’t resist a good party.” She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. “Or good company.”

Michael hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his mind. He knew he shouldn’t be entertaining this, not after everything that had happened with Wanda. But Martha’s touch was familiar, her presence a comforting echo of a time when things were simpler. He found himself drawn in, the pull of old habits and lingering desires overpowering his better judgment.

Martha smiled, sensing his wavering. She pulled him onto the dance floor, their bodies moving together in a seamless rhythm that spoke of shared history and unspoken intentions. Michael’s hands found her hips, their movements becoming more intimate as the music thrummed around them. They swayed closer, the space between them shrinking until it was almost nonexistent.

Wanda scanned the room, her eyes searching for Michael amid the sea of faces. She felt a pang of anxiety, the familiar worry creeping back in as she wondered where he had gone. She had hoped tonight would be a chance to reconnect, to find some semblance of normalcy amid the chaos of their recent days. But as the minutes ticked by and Michael remained absent, her resolve began to waver.

Michael’s head spun as Martha pulled him towards the restrooms, her intentions clear in the sly smile she flashed him over her shoulder. They slipped into the dimly lit men’s room, the door clicking shut behind them as Martha pressed herself against him. Michael’s breath hitched, the reality of what they were about to do crashing into him even as he struggled to resist.

“Michael,” Martha whispered, her hands sliding up his chest as she pinned him against the cool tile wall. “You know you want this. You’ve always wanted this.” Her lips found his, the kiss hot and insistent, and Michael, caught between the fog of alcohol and the magnetic pull of her touch, gave in.

Their movements were frantic, fueled by the reckless abandon of the moment. Martha’s hands were everywhere, her lips trailing fire across his skin as they tangled together in a messy, desperate dance. The sound of the party outside faded to a distant hum, their shared breaths the only thing that mattered in the small, confined space.

Back on the dance floor, Wanda’s anxiety grew. She checked her phone for any messages from Michael, but the screen remained blank. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she scanned the crowd once more. Just when she was about to give up, Michael emerged from the hallway, his expression slightly disheveled but calm. He walked over to her, his movements steady as if nothing had happened.

“There you are,” Wanda said, her relief tinged with a hint of frustration. “I was starting to think you left.”

Michael forced a smile, his mind still reeling from the encounter with Martha. “Sorry,” he said smoothly, slipping an arm around her waist. “Got caught up. You know how these things go.” He kissed her cheek, the gesture more mechanical than affectionate, but Wanda didn’t notice. She leaned into him, grateful for his presence as she let the last of her worries slip away.

---

At Anderson’s mansion, the mood was far from celebratory. Anderson sat slouched on the couch, his phone in one hand as he scrolled aimlessly through old photos of him and Wanda. Each image was a painful reminder of what he had lost, the memories tainted by the reality of her absence. He could feel himself slipping further into a pit of despair, the edges of his vision blurring as the weight of his mistakes bore down on him.

Agnes was stretched out on the opposite couch, her eyes glued to her phone as she browsed through I*******m. She stopped short, her thumb hovering over a post that made her heart race. It was a video from the resort, Wanda and Michael dancing together, their bodies moving in sync with the lively beat of the music. Agnes’s stomach twisted as she watched them smile and laugh, the sight of Wanda happy in Michael’s arms setting off a surge of jealousy.

She knew that if Anderson saw the post, he would be beside himself with anger and determination to go after Wanda. But Agnes wasn’t ready to lose the tenuous grip she had on him, not when she was so close to making him hers. She locked her phone, tucking it under her leg as she glanced over at Anderson, who seemed lost in his own world of regrets.

Agnes shifted, moving closer to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch light and coaxing. “Anderson,” she murmured, her voice soft as she leaned in. “You need to stop torturing yourself like this. Wanda’s moved on. Maybe it’s time you did too.”

Anderson sighed, rubbing his temples as if trying to ease the pounding headache that had settled there. “I can’t just forget about her, Agnes,” he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “It’s not that simple.”

Agnes’s eyes darkened, her patience wearing thin. She slid her hand down his chest, her touch lingering as she tried to close the distance between them. “Maybe I can help you forget,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Anderson tensed, his body stiffening at her touch. He turned to face her, his expression a mix of confusion and annoyance. “Agnes, stop,” he said firmly, pushing her hand away. “This isn’t what I need right now.”

Agnes’s smile faltered, her confidence waning as she pulled back. “You don’t know what you need, Anderson,” she said, her voice edged with frustration. “You’re too busy chasing after a woman who doesn’t want you.”

Anderson’s eyes flashed with anger. He stood up abruptly, putting distance between them as he glared down at her. “You don’t get it, Agnes,” he snapped. “Wanda was my everything. You can’t just replace her.”

Agnes recoiled, her pride stinging from the rejection. She watched him storm off, her mind racing with a mix of hurt and determination. Anderson might still be hung up on Wanda, but Agnes wasn’t about to give up so easily. She had her own plans, and she wasn’t afraid to play dirty to get what she wanted.

---

Back at the resort, Michael guided Wanda back to their room, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. Wanda leaned into him, her earlier worries fading as she let herself relax in his presence. They reached their suite, the door clicking shut behind them as Michael led her to the couch.

Wanda sat down, her eyes searching his face for some sign of the man she had married. She wanted to believe that they could move past the awkwardness and the misunderstandings, that they could find a way to make this work. But as Michael sat beside her, his smile strained and his thoughts elsewhere, Wanda couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Michael pulled her close, his hands gentle as they traced the lines of her arms. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of our trip,” he said softly, his voice calm and measured. “No more stress, no more drama. Just us.”

Wanda nodded, her head resting on his shoulder as she closed her eyes. She wanted to believe him, to trust that they could build something real together. But as the night wore on, the shadows of doubt lingered in the corners of her

mind, whispering that not everything was as it seemed.

And as the faint sound of laughter drifted in from the party outside, Wanda couldn’t help but wonder if Michael was still caught in the pull of his past—if the memories of what once was would always stand between them and the future they were trying so hard to create.