The master bedroom was bathed in the soft, intimate glow of the bedside lamp, creating a cocoon of warmth that felt far removed from the cold marble and sharp glass of the corporate world. The heavy drama of the day, the firing of Kate, the tense confrontation with Jasmine had been external noise, now silenced by the promise of their restored unity.
Larissa lay propped against the pillows, her figure draped in the sheer pink lace lingerie she had carefully chosen. It was a calculated display of surrender and expectation, intended not just for passion, but as a prelude to the conversation she desperately needed to have. She watched Jasper emerge from the bathroom, his large frame wrapped in a towel, his dark hair damp. He looked relaxed, the tension of the day eased by the anticipation in
