Bonnie paced the living room, her heart pounding so hard she feared it might burst from her chest.
It was 10:30 p.m.
Charles could walk in at any moment, and she didn't know how to feel.
It was their third wedding anniversary. She had dressed in her best Sunday outfit, prepared his favorite meal, and even done her hair and nails, just to look lovely for him.
Maybe tonight, he would finally touch her again after so many years.
Her eyes fell on the cake sitting on the table, and her fear intensified. Charles loved cake. She hoped that if he didn't come home drunk, she could feed it to him.
And who knows? Maybe they could take it from there. Maybe they could make love like real couples did.
Where would they do it? Her room? His?
Before she could sink further into her thoughts, the front door opened.
He was home.
Bonnie knew it had to be him because she had sent all the staff home. A magazine article she once read said men loved spontaneous sex. That's why she made sure they were alone.
Maybe he could start with the cake in the living room… and then make love to her right there.
"Hey, baby," she greeted, turning toward him, but she didn't rush to him.
After three years of marriage, she knew how much Charles hated being touched.
"How are you doing, baby?" she asked, keeping her voice sweet.
Charles didn't reply. He simply tossed his briefcase to the floor.
Her heart tightened.
Wasn't her anniversary gift inside? What if it broke?
He kicked off his shoes and approached the table. His eyes scanned the meal spread before him.
"What's all this for?" he asked, his voice cold and distant.
"It's… we're celebrating…" she stammered.
Why was she stuttering?
"Uh-huh," he muttered, turning away.
That was it? No reaction?
Maybe he was just tired. But she couldn't let the moment slip away.
Quickly, she picked up the cake and forced a smile. "Happy anniversary, Charles."
He paused, then slowly turned to face her. She watched as his jaw clenched and his eyes filled with disgust as they settled on the cake.
Was it the icing? But blue was his favorite color.
He stepped closer, his eyes sharp. "What is there to celebrate?"
She gasped, her brows drawing together. "Us, Charly. We're worth—"
"Don't fucking call me that!" he snapped, his voice rising. "It's Charles to you!"
She flinched. "But… I've always called you that…"
"That was when we were younger," he spat. "When we were friends. Before you forced me into this marriage."
Her stomach twisted. Her grip faltered, and the cake almost slipped from her hands. The anger in his voice, the contempt in his eyes—it broke her.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away.
"Char—"
"Don't!" he barked, pointing a finger at her. "You don't get it, do you? You think I'm going to love you just because you were arranged to me? No. Three years, or thirty—I will never love you, Bonnie. When you're tired of lying to yourself, you'll leave the marriage."
He lunged forward and shoved the cake. It toppled to the floor, splattering icing and cake crumbs on the tiles.
Bonnie fell to her knees, her heart sinking as she tried to assemble the cake. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn't allow that deter her.
Charles was just tired. He just needed to rest.
She wiped her eyes and smeared her face with icing.
"Shoot," she whispered through tears as she stood up slowly.
Her dress was ruined. How was she supposed to seduce him now?
She hurried to her room, stripped out of the gown, and stepped into the bathroom. As the water ran over her, pain thundered in her chest.
This wasn't the Charles she had once known. The Charles she grew up with was warm, fun, and kind. Their fathers had been close, and she had always had a crush on him.
When her father's business collapsed, their fathers had arranged the marriage to strengthen their bond. It had been easy marrying the boy she had always loved, the boy she had always wanted.
But the fairytale had ended before it even began. Charles had hated her for it, and had punished her with distance and silence.
He had only touched her once—on the day he found out his father had a stroke. She had comforted him that night and that was it.
The next day thinking that they could pick it up from there, Bonnie found out he had moved out from their shared room. It had hurt more than she would admit. Listening to his soft snores and receiving his unconscious cuddles had given her something to hold on to.
Now even that was gone.
She wiped the tears from her face and stepped out of the bathroom.
This wasn't the Charles she knew. The one she knew was bubbly, loved to sing and talk to her—at least before their marriage.
She couldn't give up on that Charles, no matter how this one acted.
Resolution raced through her and she reached for the red lingerie she had ordered.
She intended to wear it after eating the cake, just so she could remind him of what he had been missing.
No better time than now.
She dried off and squeezed herself into the lingerie.
Standing in front of the mirror, she admired the way it hugged her curves. Her breasts were lifted, her hips defined.
"You can't say no to me now, Charles," she murmured, smirking at her reflection.
She adjusted her hair, and wished she had makeup to complete the look.
Still, she looked great.
With one final glance, she stepped out.
Charles had moved to the farthest wing of the house and it took almost two minutes to get there.
Luckily, no staff were around to see her to see her butt on display.
When she reached his door, she paused to gather her thoughts.
Then she heard it.
Laughter.
Her chest squeezed. She hadn't heard him laugh in months.
Was he talking to his mother? His sister?
"I'm on my way. And don't worry, I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk for days."
Her breath caught.
That wasn't his sister. Or his mother.
Was Charles cheating on her?
"Yes. In twenty minutes. Yes, Hotel Grande. I'll be waiting, sugarplum."
The softness in his tone made tears well up in her eyes.
Sugarplum? Fuck you so hard you can't walk?
He had never said anything like that to her.
In three years, the only thing that had satisfied her were silicone dildos—not her husband's cock.
Pain twisted in her chest.
She wanted him to fuck her till she couldn't walk, not some other woman.
Fueled by hurt, she burst into his room.
Charles was naked. He looked up in surprise. "Bonnie? What are you doing?"
She stared at him, furious. "I should be asking you! You're cheating on me?"
He ended the call and turned to her, frowning.
Her eyes fell to his arousal and she gasped. In that moment, all her anger disappeared, replaced by a sudden, desperate desire.
"How dare you barge into my room… looking like that…" he growled.
His gaze, his tone—it made her suddenly self-conscious. She crossed her arms, trying to cover her cleavage, but it didn't do much.
Charles' eyes lingered on her chest. Her nipples hardened against the thin material. For a moment, she saw desire flicker in his eyes, before it vanished and was replaced with annoyance.
"Is this your plan now? To seduce me so I could love you?"
She blinked. "What? No! It's our anniversary. I just wanted to spend it—"
"Get out. Now! I will never love you. Not even if you wear slutty outfits like that."
Even in his fury, her body ached for him. Without thinking, she lunged into his arms, pressing against him.
"Please, Charles. Fuck me till I can't walk again," she pleaded.
Charles shoved her onto the bed. Her breath hitched as he hovered over her.
"You want this dick?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.
She bit her lip, surrendering to the desire burning inside her. "Yes."
He leaned in, his erection hard against her soaked lingerie. She closed her eyes in anticipation.
But instead of taking her, Charles pulled her off the bed and threw her out of his room.
Shock rippled inside her as she landed hard on the floor.
"You ruined my life, Bonnie. I will never love you!" he yelled, slamming the door behind her.
Shame and pain crawled through her as she crawled back to her room.
She couldn't believe it. The lingerie hadn't worked. She had failed.
As she curled up on her bed, her phone rang.
Only one person could be calling by this time.
"Hey, Dan," she whispered.
Dan was her only friend. With no parents and a younger sister who was always sick, he was the one constant in her life.
"Bonnie," his voice was full of concern. "What happened?"
She told him everything, breaking down in tears.
"Easy," Dan said gently. "What are you going to do? You can't just let him cheat on you. You have to confront him. Divorce him, Bonnie."
But she heard only the confront part.
"Thank you so much, Dan! I will call you later."
Before he could respond, she hung up.
Determination coursed through her and she clenched her fists.
She would confront the woman.
Yes, she was going to Hotel Grande.
To face the woman who had stolen her husband.