Allure of Temptation

8: He's Everywhere

AUDREY

Overwhelmed by guilt, I struggled through the rest of my meetings.

I dragged my eyes back to my laptop, forcing myself to read at least one paragraph of the document on display, and failed after three lines.

Just then, my phone chimed with a confirmation email for the counseling session I had booked earlier. I stared at it for a long time before closing my laptop and sitting back, pressing my fingers to my temples.

“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “Okay, Audrey. You’re doing something. You’re trying.”

The rest of the day was a blur of polite smiles and decision-making. But the moment I was alone again, the guilt crawled back in.

It seemed pathetic, like I was still clinging to the version of my life I promised myself would work. But I didn’t want to be labeled a cheater. I didn’t want to be that woman. The one who threw everything away because she got tempted.

By the time I was ready to leave the office, the sun was already setting. My driver opened the door, and I slid into the back seat, exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with work. My driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, and I nodded to indicate my readiness. He started the car and drove off.

When we pulled up to the house, the study lights were on. That could only mean one thing: Dante was home.

I walked in, and the air smelled faintly like the expensive candle I bought last month, the one my husband didn’t even notice.

My heels clicked on the marble floor.

I set my bag down and loosened my coat.

My heart did a nervous little skip as I walked down the hallway, ready to tell him about the counseling appointment, but I stopped when I heard his voice. He was on the phone, his tone a sharp contrast to the indifference he usually gave me.

“I’m telling you, it’s unbearable,” Dante said. The door to the study was cracked just enough for his voice to bleed into the hall. “The way she looks at me? Like I’m some project she can fix with enough love and quality time. It’s pathetic.”

I froze.

“No, I’m serious,” Dante continued, followed by a dry, cruel chuckle that I didn’t recognize. “I never liked her. Not even at the start. What makes you think I married her for love? Come on, you've seen her. She’s boring.”

I reached out, my hand finding the wall to steady myself. Never liked me?

“I mean, look, she’s not ugly,” he said, and I could hear the shrug in his tone. “She’s just… Audrey. You know? Always working. Always serious. Always acting like she’s the one doing me a favor.”

I stared at the door, my ears ringing.

He laughed loudly. “And yeah, the money helped. Obviously. Who’s going to say no to that kind of lifestyle? I got the house, the cars, the connections. I’m set.”

My hand flew to my mouth, shoving back the scream that tempted to give way.

He was still talking.

“And honestly? It’s not even hard. She’s so desperate to make it work. Like, she thinks if she tries hard enough, I’ll magically become obsessed with her.”

He sighed before continuing. “She doesn’t get it. I’m not built for… whatever she wants.”

My knees wobbled, and I had to lean against the wall to stay upright.

I didn’t realize I had moved until I was standing in the doorway, pushing the door open so hard it hit the stopper with a violent crack.

Dante spun around, his phone dropping an inch from his ear. He didn’t look guilty. He looked annoyed that he’d been interrupted.

“Audrey,” he said. “You’re home early.”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll call you back,” he said to whoever was on the phone and hung up.

“How long?” I asked.

He frowned slightly. “How long what?”

“How long have you hated me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Audrey, don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic,” I repeated. “Right. Because overhearing my husband say he never liked me and only married me for my money is just a minor inconvenience?”

He rubbed his forehead in exasperation.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

I stared at him.

“That’s your defense?”

“Audrey, look. We both knew what this was.”

My heart lurched.

“No,” I said. “No, I didn’t. I thought we were building a life. I thought we were—”

I stopped because my voice broke and I couldn’t say it.

I thought we were in love.

There was no regret in his eyes as he watched me.

“Audrey,” he began, like he was explaining something to a five-year-old, “you wanted a husband. You wanted the image. You wanted stability. I gave you that.”

My hands curled into fists.

“I wanted you,” I whispered.

He scoffed. “You wanted the idea of me.”

“I booked a marriage counselor, Dante,” I yelled. “I booked an appointment. For us. Because I thought…because I thought maybe we could fix this.”

“Counseling?” he chuckled humourlessly. “Audrey, don’t be ridiculous.”

I stared at him. “So you don’t want to fix us?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t see the point.”

I recoiled at the cruelty. “I want a divorce.”

Dante’s eyebrows shot up, and a smirk touched his lips. “Okay.”

“That’s it?” I whispered. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say? You’re the one asking for it.”

Of course,” he said. “But remember the pre-nup agreement you signed just to spite your father? The one that states that if we ever get divorced, I’d get half of all your assets? Yeah, I’ll take my half, and we can call it a day. I’m ready to sign whenever your lawyers are.”

He walked past me, brushing my shoulder. He didn’t even look back.

I stumbled into the bathroom and locked the door. I collapsed onto the cold tile, my forehead resting against the porcelain of the tub. I cried until my ribs ached.

My wedding ring glittered under the bathroom light, and I stared at it through blurred vision.

Without thinking twice, I yanked it off.

Eventually, the sobs quietened into hiccupping breaths. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand like a child.

I stood up, splashed cold water on my face, and looked at the reflection of a woman I didn’t recognize.

“Prague,” I muttered to myself.

Dante and I were supposed to go for the Christmas retreat the next day. The tickets were already booked. I had spent weeks picking out the perfect hotel with a view of the Vltava River.

I packed a single suitcase with shaking hands, grabbed my passport, and called my driver. I didn’t bother to leave a note. He didn’t deserve a single word.

The plane's cabin was dim. I was seated in 2A. Dante’s seat, 2B, was empty.

I stared out the window at the dark expanse of the Atlantic, and that’s when it hit me again. The finality of it. This was supposed to be the trip where we ‘found each other’ again. I had imagined us walking across the city at dawn, his arm around my waist, the cold air billowing around us while we promised to be better.

Instead, I was alone, and he was probably already calling lawyers to finalize the divorce.

My throat tightened and my eyes filled with tears again.

I sat down quickly, trying to blink back the tears. But the moment I buckled my seatbelt, the dam broke, and tears spilled down my cheeks silently at first.

I turned my face toward the window, pretending I was looking outside.

I felt so stupid. So humiliated.

I wiped my face, but it was useless. The tears kept coming.

And then, a shadow fell across my row.

I blinked, wiped my eyes quickly, and looked up.

My heart skipped a beat.

No. No, no, no.

It’s him.

Matteo.

He hesitated, then slid into the seat beside me.

He buckled in quietly and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a neatly folded handkerchief.