Love Unspoken

The implication of his words dawned on Quinn with swift clarity. He was insinuating that she was shameless, flirting with men with just a fleeting glance.

A wave of frustration washed over her. She had no desire to be embroiled in his twisted perceptions any longer. As she attempted to rise, he seized her collar, forcing her back to her knees. "I allow it," he declared, his voice echoing in the room. Quinn pursed her lips, turning her head away in a futile attempt to distance herself from this unreasonable man.

They were no longer bound by marriage, yet he still held an unnerving control over her. Just as she was processing his words, the office door swung open abruptly.

The sudden intrusion startled Quinn, sending her scurrying back under the desk. Getty strutted in, her high heels clicking against the floor, a handbag swinging from her arm.

"Alexander," she cooed, her voice dripping with sweetness as she made a beeline for him. Her perfume, strong and intoxicating, filled the room before she even reached his side.

huddled under the desk, pressed herself into a corner, desperate to remain unseen by Getty. Memories of past humiliations at the hands of Alexander in front of Getty flooded her mind. Now that they were divorced, she feared what new

herself to further discomfort. As Getty neared Alexander, she draped her arms around his neck and perched herself

her advances, his eyebrows arching slightly as he deftly held her by the waist. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice betraying no surprise. "I came to wait for you to finish work. Will you come to my place tonight?" Getty giggled, her words hanging in the air. "Yes," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "I'll wait for you after work; we can go watch a movie. I've already bought the tickets." She produced two tickets from her bag and handed them to him. He glanced at them, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Alright, you wait over there; I'll finish my work first."Quinn's heart pounded in her chest as she listened to their exchange from her hiding place. Was he doing this deliberately? Keeping Getty close, ensuring Quinn remained

to work, seemingly oblivious to her

thick clothing and the confined space made her feel feverish. Sweat trickled down her forehead,

unbearable. Unable to endure any longer, she reached out

pet a dog. He tilted his head, indicating with a look that she was free to leave whenever she wished. Quinn bit her lip, her mind racing. How would Getty react to seeing