Housewife Gone Wild

Chapter 22

In our six years of marriage, we’d only dined out for family holidays. Most nights we ate at home, though often interrupted by his endless phone calls. I’d cooked elaborate meals that went untouched.

Now that we had private servants preparing perfectly balanced dinners every night, he suddenly wanted to take me out.

I’d endured years of loneliness, disappointment, and the quiet heartbreak of constant rejection. Now it was his turn to taste that bitterness.

“Can’t. My plate’s full. Ask someone else.” I kept my eyes on my work, feigning concentration.

Jared went completely still. The polite smile froze on his face. He’d anticipated delight, not this offhand rejection.

“The work will still be there after dinner,” he said, with uncharacteristic patience.

“I’m not hungry.” I glanced up with a bland smile. “Had dessert earlier.”

Some of the tension left his posture when he realized this was about schedules, not rejection.

“I’ll head back for Yvonne then. Don’t work too late.” With that, he left without another word, and I returned to my files,

Jared said he needed to call a board meeting to decide on the appointment, but I knew it was just a formality.

He ruled the company with absolute authority. His competence left no room for challenges.

Our personal relationship blurred professional lines, but I believed that Jared could silence critics effortlessly.

It was 11 p.m. when I got home, arms full of documents. Jared had already tucked Yvonne in and was lounging on the sofa in his pajamas, sipping coffee.

setting his coffee cup aside and crossing his long legs. His piercing eyes

I kicked off

for a beat before slowly following me

I grabbed

stepped

I’d waited for him, aching for this very moment. But when he finally lay beside me and I reached out, he’d catch my wrist, push it away, and

lotion over my skin, the scent curling around me. The woman in the mirror looked different

called from the bed, impatience creeping into his voice. I’d taken longer than usual, and he wasn’t hiding

was thinking about sex. Was he going to make the first

more deliberately feminine–silky blouses, curves accentuated. Men always noticed those things. He might not love me, but

1/3

I settled in, he threw his book down,

toward me

fingers burning against the curve of my waist before inching upward with

tired tonight,” I mumbled into

arm tensed. “It’s been three months,” he said, his

that,” I muttered, not wanting to get into

my desires. Normally, I’d be crawling out of my skin after three months without it, while he

didn’t want him at all anymore.

heavier. In the past, one word of refusal

Angry as he clearly was, none of his

Jared’s voice was suddenly at

laughed. Jared, always so proud and self–assured, was actually reduced to this