Weston, seemingly unaware of her inner turmoil, felt a void in his heart fill when he realized she was back in the house. Without warning, he moved toward her and wrapped his arms around her from behind, his chin resting lightly on her neck.
The instant his body was close to hers, her scent hit him—subtle but undeniable. He had never noticed it before, but now it lingered in his mind, almost intoxicating. After their divorce, that scent became more deeply etched in his memory, a constant reminder of her.
He could feel her body tense beneath his touch, but he wasn’t in a rush to act. Instead, he murmured softly, “What perfume are you wearing?”
Stella squeezed her eyes shut, trying to steady her breath as his warmth enveloped her. She kept her voice steady. “I don’t use perfume.”
Weston’s grip tightened slightly as he tilted her chin to face him. His lips found hers in a brief, forceful kiss. Stella didn’t fight back. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t respond either.
The kiss didn’t last long before Weston pulled away, frustrated by her lack of reaction. He pressed his forehead against hers, forcing her to meet his gaze, but he didn’t like the blankness he saw in her eyes.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered, his voice low.
Stella obeyed without hesitation, shutting her eyes as he had asked. His lips met hers again, more insistently this time. In a swift motion, he pressed her against the door, kissing her repeatedly as though trying to make up for all the lost time. It wasn’t until her lips turned red that he pulled away, his breath ragged.
“What time is it?” His voice was hoarse, filled with need.
Stella turned toward the clock on the wall and answered, “Six.”
She wasn’t sure what she had done to please him, but when she looked up, his eyes were gleaming with satisfaction as he smiled.
“You still remember where you put the clock,” he remarked, his voice tinged with amusement.
She froze for a moment, then replied with a touch of bitterness, “I’ve been in here for over a year.”
Weston’s fingers traced her chin, clearly satisfied with her answer. “Your room is the same. Nothing’s changed.” He glanced at her, as if considering something. “I’ll arrange for a driver, or you can drive yourself. Fern City isn’t far from here. I wish I could see you every time I return.”
Stella took a moment, her mind swirling, before asking quietly, “When will you be back?”
It was a simple question, but one she had to ask. Since she had accepted her fate, she had to know the practicalities.
Weston let her go and sat down on the couch, tossing his coat aside. He motioned for her to join him. “Come here.”
She obeyed, walking over to him. He pulled her into his arms, his hand running through her hair. “Are you planning to run away when I’m not here?” he asked, his voice low, almost curious.
Stella shook her head, a quiet resignation in her tone. “I know I can’t.”
She had seen it for herself today—how tightly he held onto her, how impossible it was for her to break free. Fern City, her brother, everything she held dear, was tied to him in some way. She couldn’t escape.
Weston smiled slightly, clearly pleased by her response. His hand moved to cup her chin. “My firm is a distance from here, but the branch office is close. I’ll be coming back often. You should prepare yourself.”
“Prepare for what?” she asked calmly, her gaze unwavering.
Weston’s eyes darkened, the usual playfulness replaced by something more intense. “What do you think?”
Stella paused for a moment, contemplating his words. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. I understand.”
After a brief silence, she stood up from his embrace, her movements deliberate. She began unbuttoning her clothes in front of him, an act that spoke volumes of the unspoken tension between them.
This time, Weston didn’t stop her. He simply watched her with a quiet intensity, his gaze never leaving her as she undressed. He leaned back on the couch, his eyes following her every movement as the floor around her filled with clothes.
Skip to content