Weston seemed to completely ignore Stella’s words. He walked leisurely toward the counter, picked up a delicate glass, and filled it with water. He didn’t hurry, his movements casual, almost as if they were an ordinary couple at home after a long day. “Do you want some?” he asked, his tone smooth and unbothered.
Stella’s patience was running thin. Her intentions were clear, and she repeated herself, trying to bring the conversation back to the point. “Aren’t we going to start? Aren’t you worried? What if Guinevere suddenly returns?”
Her question hung in the air, laden with doubt. From what she knew, Weston was already married to Guinevere, and they were living together with their newborn child. There was no way Weston would have brought her here if he cared for Guinevere at all. This apartment was clearly one of his other properties, a place devoid of warmth, filled with sharp lines and minimalistic decor—a far cry from the life he shared with his wife.
It wasn’t lost on Stella that the apartment, all black and white, seemed entirely masculine. There wasn’t a single item that hinted at a woman’s presence.
She continued, her voice thick with sarcasm, “It’s late. Won’t Guinevere be looking for you?” She recalled the phone call from Guinevere earlier, her tone dripping with irony. “You must be so concerned about her. After all, you two are married. Or does she not matter anymore?”
Stella had always assumed Weston loved Guinevere, but now, after everything, she saw the cracks in that assumption. If he truly loved her, he wouldn’t have gone behind her back to see another woman. He wouldn’t have brought Stella here, knowing full well what it would imply.
Weston gulped down the water and looked down at the cold reflection on the counter. His eyes darkened as he absorbed her words. “Are you really that worried about her coming over?” he asked quietly.
Stella turned to face him, the irony clear in her voice. “Mr. Ford, don’t you get it? If Guinevere shows up, it’s me she’ll blame. She’ll parade me around as the villain, when you’re the one at fault. You’re the one sinning, but I’ll be the one to suffer the consequences.”
Weston’s brow furrowed as he responded in a low, firm voice. “I won’t let that happen.”
Stella didn’t flinch, her voice cutting through the tension. “You already have, once before.” She paused, her tone growing more pointed. “And I almost died because of it.”
Her words hung heavy in the air, and Weston’s control snapped. He slammed the glass down on the counter, the sharp sound echoing through the room. He strode toward her with an intensity that made Stella freeze in place. Without warning, he seized her and pulled her into his arms. His lips crashed onto hers in a kiss that was hard and demanding, a kiss that left no room for argument.
His tolerance for her defiance had grown thin, and he wasn’t about to let her bring up the past again. He didn’t want to hear about her near-death experience. He just wanted her here, with him.
Stella fought back at first, but the resistance was useless. Her body grew limp in his arms, and she stopped struggling. The fight drained out of her as her heart went cold. Her eyes closed as a wave of nausea swept over her. The feeling was unbearable, her stomach churning violently.
Weston, oblivious to her discomfort, was too focused on his own desires. His hand slid down her waist, his grip tightening as he prepared to take things further. But before he could go any further, Stella’s eyes shot open. She suddenly jerked away from him and ran to the trash can, her body convulsing as she vomited everything in her stomach.
The steamy atmosphere of the moment was shattered. Weston watched, his cold gaze fixed on her as she struggled. His emotions darkened, and a violent surge of frustration twisted in his chest. How could she react like that to him? He had only kissed her, yet her reaction had been one of disgust.
When she finally calmed down, Weston’s voice was harsh and rasping, almost as if he couldn’t understand what had just happened. “It was just a kiss. Why are you overreacting like that? How are you going to handle it later?”
He wasn’t planning on hurting her, not really. All he wanted was for her to be by his side for the night. But seeing her reject him so violently stirred something deep within him, something dark and possessive. She kept rejecting him, but he refused to let her go.
Stella, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, turned away from him. Her heart felt as if it was breaking with every passing second. She had to get rid of the disgusting feeling his touch left on her skin. She tried to vomit everything out, as if it would help her forget how repulsive the kiss had been.
It was all too much. The bitterness, the anger, the resentment—it was all piling up inside her, and she didn’t know how much longer she could take it.
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