My whole body was trembling in rage. Julian, the man I trusted the most in my life, and shared my bed for five years, served him in all the possible ways he liked, had sold me to a man. His own wife?
The truth was a shard of ice plunged into my soul. It didn't just hurt; it froze the rage, the fear, the disgust into a terrifying stillness.
Deccan’s words echoed, each syllable a hammer blow to my fragile sanity.
“He said he would let me f*ck his wife for one night if I keep his affair with Lesley a secret.”
I stared at him, unable to speak, unable to move.
Julian’s sudden insistence on this dinner. His overly cheerful mood. Lesley’s smug, knowing glance as they walked out the door. The liquor, unusually strong, pushed on me relentlessly. It had all been orchestrated. A meticulous, cruel set-up.
Deccan misinterpreted my paralysis for submission. His hand, which had been entangled in my hair, tugged me closer, bringing our faces mere inches apart. I could smell the expensive cologne and the repulsive scent of his lust.
"Now you know, Sweetheart... Julian won't mind. He expects it." He whispered.