CHAPTER 3
1292 Words
Artemis POV
I watched her car pull away from the house through the tall window of our bedroom. The glass reflected back a man I barely recognized anymore. My marriage had turned cold, and I didn’t know when the frost first set in.
Luna was keeping her distance, and I had no idea what I’d done to push her away.
Most days, I buried myself in work to escape the tension at home. It usually worked. Success and long hours dulled the ache, even if only for a while.
I slid into my suit jacket, fastening the buttons with mechanical precision. I brushed my dark brown hair back, neat as always. Appearances mattered—I was the CEO of Luxe Kitten. To my employees, I had to remain polished, untouchable.
The square jaw, the light stubble, the sharp nose—features women often admired. Once, I took pride in it. But lately, I wondered if it wasn’t enough. Not for Luna.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Before her, I’d never doubted myself. I was Artemis Quinn—successful, unstoppable, desired by women who would have lined up for a chance to be with me. Now, with her, I was a man questioning everything.
“Sir, we’re here.”
The driver’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I stepped out of the car, the skyscraper looming ahead—my second home.
Inside, the private elevator whisked me straight to the top floor. Patricia, my secretary, greeted me with a smile that was just a little too polished, a little too revealing. My gaze slipped over the deep neckline of her dress before I looked away sharply.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m a man, not blind. But she wasn’t Luna. And ever since I married Luna, other women blurred into sameness. No spark. No fire. Just noise.
“Good morning, Mr. Quinn. I brought your coffee,” Patricia said, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she set it on my desk.
“Just leave it there,” I replied, turning my back to her as I looked out at the skyline.
The door clicked shut harder than necessary. A petty little act of defiance.
I sighed. She was starting to get on my nerves. Maybe it was time to replace her.
Luna POV
I slid into my car, my phone buzzing in my hand. The name on the screen lit up—Marcus Miller.
Marcus could be clingy, and ignoring him would only make things worse. Wealthy men and their egos… best to feed it before it starved. I made a mental note to change his name in my phone before Artemis got suspicious.
“Hi, honey… good morning,” I answered brightly.
On the other end, he sighed, heavy and low. My brows drew together. What kind of mood was that for this early?
“Luna, I need to see you. There’s something I need to talk about,” Marcus said, his voice thick with tension.
“Right now?” I asked, surprised. “Did something happen?”
“Meet me at the usual bar tonight. I’ll tell you then.”
Marcus confused me. Three months in, and I still couldn’t tell if he genuinely needed me or if he just couldn’t stand being alone.
I exhaled slowly. “Okay, honey. I can’t wait to see you tonight.”
He chuckled, lighter now. “Patience, honey.”
“See you tonight, Marcus.”
“Wait—” he stopped me.
“Yes?” I asked, biting my lip unconsciously.
“Have I told you how much I love you?”
I couldn’t help smiling. That was the second love confession I’d gotten this morning. Affairs were intoxicating in that way—adrenaline in every word, every stolen touch.
“You said that yesterday. And the day before,” I teased, twirling a curl around my finger.
He groaned softly. “What have you done to me, Luna? I’m obsessed with you.”
Poor man. He thought he was special. Almost all my lovers said the same. Some promised to leave their wives for me. This was the reaction I wanted—the obsession, the surrender.
“Then prove it to me tonight,” I whispered, admiring my freshly painted nails.
He smirked through the line. “Challenge accepted.”
Marcus was attractive—not as magnetic as Artemis, but older, refined. He owned AOA Shipping, a powerhouse company. Maybe part of me craved that authority, that fatherly figure I never had.
Later that night, I parked in front of the bar. Checking my reflection in the rearview mirror, I reapplied my deep red lipstick—Marcus’s favorite. I knew it wouldn’t last long once his lips found mine, but the effort mattered.
Artemis was tied up at a dinner meeting, thank God. It gave me two perfect hours of freedom.
“Mrs. Quinn,” the guard at the entrance greeted with a knowing smile. I slipped him a tip.
“Don’t let my husband know I was here.”
He chuckled as another man escorted me to the VIP floor.
Marcus sat waiting, his eyes devouring me as I approached in my tight black leather mini dress. I moved slowly, deliberately, letting him savor every detail.
His conflicted expression was almost comical.
“What do you think you’re wearing?” he groaned when I sat beside him.
“Why? Don’t you like it?” I purred, tugging him closer by his tie.
“It’s not that. I just don’t like anyone else looking at what’s mine.” His hand slid possessively over my thigh.
“Oh, really? We’re both married. How exactly am I yours?” I teased.
He raked a hand through his hair. “That’s why I’ve made my decision.”
I arched a brow. “About your wife, Clara?”
Clara. Sweet Clara. I’d met her at the gym once or twice. If only she knew. The irony wasn’t lost on me.
Marcus’s voice broke through my thoughts. “We fought. And this time… I asked for a divorce.”
My eyes widened. “What? Why?”
He clasped my hands tightly. “Because the spark is gone. And because you’re the one I want.”
Damn it. This wasn’t what I signed up for.
“You know I can’t leave Artemis,” I said sharply, turning away.
“Why not? I’ll leave Clara for you. Why can’t you do the same?” His voice cracked with desperation.
“I told you—I wanted fun. Not another marriage. I thought we were on the same page.” My voice rose, my irritation showing.
“But I can’t just have fun, Luna!” he snapped.
I sighed, frustrated. When men got this invested, it usually meant the end. I didn’t stay where obsession turned to suffocation.
He drained his whisky and slammed the glass on the table. “We had a deal,” I reminded him firmly.
“I know,” he muttered. “But I’ve changed my mind.”
The pain in his eyes almost made me pity him. Almost.
“Can you at least give me a chance?” he asked.
“A chance for what?”
“To prove I’m better for you than Artemis.”
Confusion twisted in my chest. Part of me wanted to walk away, end it clean. Another part… was curious.
“So what do you suggest?” I asked cautiously. “I can’t just demand a divorce.”
“Come to Paris with me. For a few months.”
The words froze between us. Insane. Dangerous. Tempting.
Was I really going to keep drinking from this poisonous cup, hoping it wouldn’t kill me in the end?
- Writer
