Lies, Love, And Letting Go

Vincent swept Caroline into his arms and strode toward the car, choosing to take the wheel himself instead of calling the driver. The engine roared to life as he slammed the accelerator, the city lights streaking past in a blur. A trip that usually took half an hour vanished in barely twelve minutes. By the time they reached Luna Villa, Caroline was already tugging at her clothes in a dazed heat, fabric slipping loose against flushed skin. Her blouse had fallen off one shoulder, baring a curve of her chest to the cool night air. Vincent's gaze darkened with hunger, but he forced a tight rein on the storm inside him and carried her through the silent villa. The house stood still and immaculate—no live-in staff, only the faint trace of cleaning products lingering from the last scheduled visit. Vincent lowered Caroline onto the sofa, her hair spilling like ink over the cushions, then leaned down and caught her mouth in a hard, frenzied kiss. His hands moved with controlled urgency, peeling away the last of her clothing to expose the elegant lines of her body. Overcome by the drug's heat, Caroline wrapped both arms around his neck, her voice breaking with desperate yearning. "Please… I need you…" Vincent devoured the soft sounds spilling from her lips, his calloused palms tracing her heated skin before drifting lower. His fingers slipped between her thighs and met the slick heat waiting for him. A startled tremor ran through Caroline as instinct made her press her legs together, but Vincent pushed her knees apart with an unhurried press of his elbow. His breath brushed the shell of her ear, voice rough and deliberate. "You're so wet." As he spoke, his long fingers slid into her wetness. Sensation crashed over her in a dizzying rush, her body arching as if pulled by invisible strings. She moved helplessly with his rhythm, lost in the mounting pleasure. Vincent's gaze locked on her flushed face, his tone curling low and dangerous. "Do you know who I am?" Words failed her. Desire hollowed her out until only need remained. Her hand reached for him, desperate to pull him closer, to erase the distance between them. Vincent was already straining with arousal, but instead of giving in, his fingers tightened around her throat, firm but controlled. His eyes darkened as he demanded, his voice like steel, "Look at me and say my name." The image of Caroline tilting toward Kendal in the restroom flashed through Vincent's mind, stoking the fire in his chest into a dangerous blaze. A spike of pain burned through Caroline's daze, clearing the fog enough for her to truly see Vincent—the hard lines of his jaw, the familiar darkness in his eyes. "Vincent," she murmured, her voice thin and shaky. A tremor coursed through him at the sound of his name, sharp and electric. "Good girl," he rasped, the words rough with satisfaction he didn't even realize. The acknowledgment shattered the last of his restraint, leaving only the raw, consuming need to claim her. When he finally pushed inside, Caroline let out a shuddering cry—half pain, half unrestrained lust. Instinct took over; her body tightened around him, clinging as if she could fuse herself to him. Vincent gripped one of her legs, his other hand anchoring her hip, and drove into her with fierce, relentless thrusts that struck deep and hard. Her body met each stroke with frantic, involuntary response. The haze from the drug slowly receded, but her craving burned hotter, consuming her rational thoughts. Tears welled in her eyes as clarity returned, and she gave in—body and soul—to the man moving inside her. ... When dawn crept into the room, Caroline woke to an ache that settled deep in her bones. Every limb felt unstrung, her body sore in places she hadn't experienced before. Fragments of last night flickered behind her eyelids—each one tightening the knot of humiliation in her chest. A low, cool voice sliced through the quiet. "Awake?" Her gaze shifted to the window. Vincent sat in the armchair, immaculate in his tailored suit, his expression unreadable. For a heartbeat, her mind went blank. She didn't know whether to speak, hide, or simply disappear. Vincent rose with unhurried grace, a faint rustle of fabric marking his movements. He flicked a check onto the bed, the paper landing softly on the sheets. "A million dollars a month," he said flatly. "Quit your job. Spend your time preparing to get pregnant." He'd never liked seeing the woman tied to him stepping into the public eye. Letting Caroline continue her career after their marriage had been nothing but an act of indifference—she'd been a decorative figure he barely noticed. But now, he decided, his leniency had gone on long enough. Her talk of divorce, coupled with another man's interest in her, scraped at his pride like a blade. He could not tolerate it. "This isn't up for discussion," he added, his voice as sharp as the air between them. "It's an order." Caroline froze, her mind blanking for several heartbeats. Then, heat surged through her. She snatched up the check, ripped it into shreds with shaking hands, and hurled the pieces in his face. "To get pregnant? Seriously, Vincent? Get it through your damn head—I want a divorce!"