Chapter 13
David
The heavy crystal tumbler hit the surface of the mahogany desk with a sharp, violent crack that echoed through the dead quiet of the home office.
David stood rigid by the floor-to-ceiling window, the amber liquid burning a slow, hot path down his throat. Outside, the afternoon sun cast long, idyllic shadows across the manicured lawns. It looked like a picture-perfect suburban paradise.
To David, it looked like an absolute, suffocating cage.
It had been exactly two weeks since the agonizing humiliation of Sean’s fiftieth birthday party at the Grand Solstice, and the carefully constructed walls of David’s life were rapidly caving in.
Through the pristine glass, he watched the heavy oak front door of his own house open.
Rosália stepped out onto the porch. She was wearing a simple, elegant beige trench coat, carrying a leather portfolio of artist sketches.
She didn’t walk toward her SUV in the driveway.
Instead, she bypassed the concrete entirely, her heels sinking slightly into the manicured grass as she headed straight toward the towering hedge that separated their property from Sean’s massive estate.
A second later, Sean appeared on the other side of the boundary.
David’s jaw locked so tightly a dull ache shot up to his temples.
He watched his wife’s face light up with a bright, effortless, completely unguarded smile.
He watched Sean lean against the stone pillar, sliding his hands into his pockets, looking down at Rosália with a relaxed, intimate familiarity that made David’s blood boil.
The older man leaned in, saying something that made Rosália throw her head back and laugh.
They stood there, bathed in the afternoon sun, looking like they didn’t have a single care in the world.
The blatant, escalating friendship was driving David entirely out of his mind. He had commanded Rosália to stop. He had laid down the law, explicitly forbidding her from entertaining the billionaire neighbor.
And for the first time in ten years, Rosália had looked at him with eyes as cold as absolute zero, entirely ignored his demands, and walked out of the room. She was slipping through his fingers, building a quiet, terrifying independence that he couldn’t seem to crush.
But what infuriated David even more than his wife’s sudden defiance was the absolute, pathetic cowardice of his mistress.
He took another aggressive swallow of his scotch, his knuckles turning white around the glass. He had explicitly instructed Katherine to keep Sean on a tighter leash, to distract the older man and keep him away from the property line.
But Katherine was entirely useless. Ever since the weekend at the hotel, she had been a paranoid, trembling mess.
She was absolutely terrified of losing her wealthy benefactor.
Sean had been staying closer to home, working from his estate, and Katherine was too cowardly to risk the empire she was living in.
She had completely cut David off. There were no more stolen, breathless hours in the middle of the day.
There were no more desperate, hurried escapes in the early hours of the morning to fuck in the shadows of David’s expansive garage before the sun came up.
She was starving him, and the forced celibacy was making David feral.
As he watched Sean and Rosália exchange a lingering, overly familiar goodbye over the hedges, David closed his eyes. His mind violently dragged him backward, plunging into the dark, intoxicating memory of how this entire addiction had started.
It had been four months ago.
It was a torrential Tuesday afternoon. Rosália was across the city, overseeing a massive installation at the Lumen gallery.
Sean was in New York for a three-day financial summit.
David had been working from home, enjoying the absolute, pristine silence of his house, when the sharp ring of the doorbell pierced the quiet.
He had opened the heavy oak door to find Katherine standing on his porch, entirely drenched from the sudden, violent downpour.
“I’m so sorry, David,” she had chattered, her arms wrapped around herself. “I went for a run and the sky just opened up. The keypad on Sean’s side gate shorted out in the rain, and I don’t have my phone. Can I please use yours to call the estate manager?”
She was shivering violently, wearing nothing but a pair of skin-tight, soaked black leggings and a thin, white sports bra that the rain had rendered completely transparent.
David had always viewed her as a shallow, loud nuisance. He was a sophisticated corporate lawyer; she was a girl who taught Pilates. But as he stepped aside to let her into his foyer, the snobbery had violently shattered.
She stood on his expensive Persian rug, water dripping from her blonde hair, trailing down the long, elegant line of her neck and pooling in the deep valley of her cleavage. Her nipples were tightly beaded against the wet, sheer fabric of her bra.
David hadn’t moved to get the phone. He had just stared at her.
The heavy, suffocating silence in the foyer had stretched. Katherine had looked up, wrapping her arms tighter around her ribs, and caught the dark, hungry look in his eyes. Her breath had hitched. She hadn’t looked away. She hadn’t asked for the phone again.
“You’re freezing,” David had murmured, his voice dropping into a low, unrecognizable rasp. He had taken a slow, deliberate step toward her, crossing the invisible boundary of neighborly decency.
“I’m so cold, David,” Katherine had whispered, her dark eyes wide, her chest heaving as she stared up at the imposing man in the tailored suit.
“Sean isn’t here to warm you up,” David had stated, stating the illicit reality out loud. The sheer, primal arrogance of taking the beautiful, vibrant toy that belonged to the untouchable billionaire next door was a rush too potent to ignore.
“No,” she had breathed, her lips parting. “He isn’t.”
David hadn’t hesitated another second. He had lunged forward, grabbing her by the waist and slamming her back against the foyer wall.
The wet, slapping sound of her bare skin against the plaster echoed in the hall.
He had crushed his mouth to hers, swallowing her surprised gasp.
She tasted like rain and absolute surrender.
Her cold, wet hands had frantically tangled in his dry, perfectly styled hair, her tongue desperately meeting his.
It had been frantic. Animalistic. He hadn’t even taken her to a bedroom.
He had reached between her soaked leggings, tearing the fabric down her thighs, entirely consumed by the forbidden thrill.
She had wrapped her bare legs around his waist right there in the entryway, whimpering his name as he buried himself deep inside her wet, tight heat for the very first time.
But it was the memory of what happened two months later that truly haunted him, making his cock ache with a heavy, pulsing demand against the zipper of his slacks.
It was a Thursday evening. The paranoia of being caught had started to heavily outweigh the thrill.
David had firmly decided he was going to end the affair.
He was a married man, a senior partner in line for a massive promotion, and the risk was simply too high.
He had texted Katherine to come over through the back patio doors, fully intending to look her in the eye, break it off, and recommit to his pristine wedding vows.
Katherine had walked into his kitchen wearing a pair of tiny, frayed denim shorts and a loose, sheer white top that slipped off one tanned shoulder.
“We need to stop, Kat,” David had said, standing rigid by the marble island, gripping the edge of the stone to keep himself from reaching for her. “This is getting reckless. I’m a married man. I have a wife I need to respect. This is over.”
Katherine hadn’t cried. She hadn’t argued or begged.
She had simply let out a low, wicked laugh, her eyes flashing with an entirely submissive, intoxicating challenge. She walked slowly across the kitchen, stepping directly into his personal space.
“Are you really going to stand there and tell me you don’t want this anymore?” Katherine had whispered, her voice dripping with pure seduction. She reached out, her manicured fingers boldly tracing the lapel of his expensive suit jacket. “You’re a liar, David.”
She had pressed her hot, pliable body flush against him. He could feel the soft, braless weight of her breasts pressing into his chest, the heat of her skin burning through his shirt.
His resolve had crumbled into dust in less than ten seconds.
With a guttural groan, David had grabbed her by the hips, lifting her completely off the floor. He swept a crystal vase off the kitchen island, the glass shattering violently on the hardwood floor, and slammed her down onto the cold, polished marble.
He had torn the sheer shirt from her shoulders, completely abandoning every single vow he had ever made to Rosália.
“Fuck,” David had hissed, burying his face in her neck, biting down on her collarbone as his hands aggressively tore at the button of her shorts. “You drive me absolutely insane.”
Katherine had arched her back, moaning loudly as he freed his heavy erection and thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt.
The stark, breathtaking contrast of the freezing cold marble beneath her back and his burning hot skin pressing into her drove them both wild.
The wet, heavy sound of their bodies slapping together echoed off the high kitchen ceilings.
But the kitchen island hadn’t been enough. The dark, twisted rush of the betrayal had completely taken over his mind.
While Katherine was still panting on the marble counter, her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he rolled his hips against her sensitive center, David had reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
He had opened his messages, finding his wife’s name.