Chapter 06: Audacity
1903 Words
~Lora~
Oh God, If sin ever knocked on my door, it would sound like this…Alex’s breath warm against my skin, his arms locked around me like he’d rather break than let go.
And the worst part?
He didn’t even need to ask.
Deep down, he already knew how badly I wanted him.
How easy it would be to forget everything and give in.
To feel all of him, everywhere, and stop fighting for once.
I drew in a slow breath, forcing my heart to calm, even as it thrashed against my ribs.
The words slipped out before I could stop them, words I knew I’d regret the moment they left my mouth.
But this wasn’t what I needed, not now. “Alex… I…I can’t do this,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer.
We just stood there in silence, our breathing loud in the space between us as the moment slowly settled.
Then his arms came around me anyway, firm, steady, grounding. “I f*****g miss you,” he said into my hair.
After a beat, his voice dropped, quieter but heavier. “But…I’ll wait. Until you stop lying to yourself.”
He pulled back just enough to cup my face, his eyes searching mine like he already knew everything I wasn’t brave enough to say.
“Don’t do that again,” he murmured. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel this.”
Then he pressed a slow kiss to my forehead.
And that was all it took.
I melted into him, my chest tight, emotions crashing over each other until I couldn’t tell where guilt ended and relief began.
All I knew was that, for this moment, I wanted to be nowhere else but right here, held, hidden safe in his arms.
We stayed like that until the heat between us finally eased, until his body relaxed against mine.
Then he spoke, gentle now. “You must be hungry,” he said, pulling away slowly. “I’ll make hangover soup.”
I nodded, unable to trust my voice.
I watched him walk away, and the truth settled deeper in my chest, clear and painfully familiar.
The truth I tried so hard to hide, even after marrying someone else and never stopped thinking about.
I was still in love with him.
*******************
THE NEXT DAY
The alarm on the bedside table jolted me awake, and the heavy arm wrapped over my waist, stayed still.
I groaned, rubbing my eyes as I glared at the clock.
9:25 a.m.
“Come back to bed,” he murmured, still half-asleep. “I’ll turn it off.”
“No, no…” I caught his wrist before he could reach it. “I should probably leave.”
“Why?” he growled, pulling me back against him.
“Because I’m a married woman,” I said, trying to untangle myself. “And I have a life.”
He stilled. “You didn’t have to remind me of the horrible,” he muttered, releasing me at once.
I couldn’t tell which part pissed him off more…the married woman or the I have a life.
Either way, he turned his face into the mattress, mumbling something under his breath.
I slipped out of bed, his white shirt hanging loose on me, breathing in his scent as I walked toward the bathroom.
An hour later, after he insisted I eat breakfast and practically forced me to let one of his drivers take me home, despite my begging him not to show up himself….I stood on my porch.
My chest felt heavy as I stared at the door.
I wondered if everything would change the moment I stepped back into this house.
Nonetheless, I sighed, unlocking the front door, and saw him immediately.
Grey suit, hair perfectly groomed, legs crossed and his eyes glued to a damn newspaper.
This should be easy.
“Good morning,” I muttered, already moving toward the stairs.
He didn’t answer.
And I cursed myself for even saying it.
Was it the guilt?
The impulse?
The fact that I’d spent the night in another man’s arms?
“What’s so good about the morning?” he finally said.
I stopped.
He stood up and walked toward me, his steps measured, controlled. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded.
“What happened to your phone? And what is this damn s**t I’m seeing all over the news?” He practically shoved the newspaper on my face.
I said nothing.
What could I say?
That the papers were wrong…with headlines screaming: FAMOUS FASHION DESIGNER IN THE ARMS OF POPULAR BILLIONAIRE SWEETHEART?
Or that the picture of Alex carrying me out of the party last night was everywhere, staring back at me like a confession I hadn’t made?
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” he snapped. “Lora…look at me. I’m talking to you.”
His hands gripped my shoulders, tight enough to make me wince.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked quietly. It was the only honest thing I had.
He scoffed, pushing his tongue against his cheek, dragging a hand through his hair.
“You can’t be serious right now. Aren’t you even going to explain yourself?” He planted his hands on his waist.
“There’s nothing to say,” I replied. “I…it just happened.”
“It just happened?” he echoed. “For God’s sake. You were supposed to be home with me yesterday. I decorated the whole place for us.”
His voice rose. “But instead, you had yourself wrapped up in another man.”
I looked at him, squeezed my wrist tightly, and swallowed whatever it was I was about to say.
“How cheap and shameless can you be?” he snapped. “Yet you have the guts to tell me it just happened?”
He pointed a finger at me. “This is exactly why I don’t let you mingle with all those useless men.”
I scoffed under my breath. “And you?” I murmured. “What are you, then?”
“Sorry?” He stepped closer. “What did you just say?”
I rolled my eyes and looked away. “I don’t have time for this.” I turned to leave.
I didn’t get far, his hand clamped around my wrist, yanking me back so hard I nearly lost my balance. “You’re going to f*****g stay right here, I’m not done talking.”
I still said nothing.
Then his grip shifted, fingers pressing hard against my jaw, forcing my face up. “You hear me?”
Pain flared, I struggled my breath tight, but managed to nod.
“Good.” He tapped my cheek lightly, his expression shifting, anger cooling into something calmer.
“I don’t like us like this,” he said. “You know I love you. And you love me. This kind of thing…it’s not good for us. Okay?”
Before I could answer, he kissed me.
I resisted, lips pressed tight, but he did it anyway.
He tried to deepen it, and this time around I used all my strength to pull away.
“Come on,” he said with a sigh. “You can’t be upset. If anything, I should be the one angry.”
He shrugged. “My wife’s all over the news. Worse, she didn’t come home last night. That’s a lot on me. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “You’re right. It must have been a lot for you.”
I paused. “And you even had to sleep out too.”
His eyes flashed, surprise first, then something else. “What did you expect me to do?” he said quickly.
“I tried reaching you, got drunk from stressing over it and ended up spending the night at a friend’s.”
“Hm.” I tilted my head. “Which friend?”
Because if memory served me right from how today was supposed to go.. There had been a person named “Brad.”
A text after he bailed on me the previous night, and only showed up this morning..
It had read: Did you get home safely? Had a nice time 💐
I never thought too deep about it, but if my guess was right…
Brad was Ivy.
“Uh…someone new,” he said. “We met on a business trip. Brad, you wouldn’t know him.”
I nodded once, forcing a small smile. “Great, Brad. How nice.”
He let out a strange laugh. “Oh come on,” he said. “Don’t change the subject. I’m the one scolding you here, not the other way around.”
“I’m tired,” I replied quietly. “I’m going to bed.”
His face tightened. “What about breakfast?” he said. “I’m freaking starving.”
Then, softer, almost suggestive…“And maybe after that… I…I mean, we could go upstairs and have another meal.”
I stared at him. “Why? You usually order out. Why don’t you do that now?”
“I don't feel like it,” he snapped.
His voice hardened. “ Besides, you’re my wife, and you’re going to make me breakfast. Right now. Okay?”
Something cold settled in my chest.
How had I missed this side of Michael?
His moods flicked on and off like a broken switch, warm one second, cold the next.
“Michael,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm. “I don’t have time for this. I’m exhausted. Go order take-out.”
“No.” He grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward the kitchen. “You’ll make breakfast, and that’s final.”
“Let me go,” I struggled, my heart pounding.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” he snapped.
“You’re going to stay in this damn kitchen and cook me a meal.” He dropped my wrist roughly.
“No,” I said, my voice shaking but loud. “I won’t.
“Oh,” he scoffed. “I see.”
His lips curled. “So now you’re raising your voice at me.”
He tilted his head. “Tell me…did he f**k the audacity into you?”
“You’re disgusting,” I spat, pointing at him.
His hand shot out, and he grabbed my finger, twisted it sharply, slamming my back against the wall.
Pain exploded through me, ripping the air from my lungs.
He noticed the way I flinched. “Now,” he said coldly, leaning in, “you’re going to get your f*****g act together and behave. You hear me?”
I couldn’t speak.
His grip tightened. “Don’t f*****g test me, Lora,” he warned, eyes bloodshot, fingers bending mine even more. “I’ll do it.”
“You’re…hurting me,” I cried, tears burning my eyes.
“And you don’t like that,” he said quietly. “Do you?”
I shook my head weakly, struggling against him, my body trembling in his hold.
“Michael…” My voice broke. “Let me f*****g go. You’re hurting me.”
He didn’t listen, Instead, he pressed me harder into the wall.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs, fear flooding every thought.
My breath came in short, panicked gasps.
And then something terrifying hit me.
The way I died.
Would he kill me again?
No, no, no…
- Writer
