Retribution in Bloom

I Know How to Make You Jealous

I was excited. I was damp, but a hint of panic surfaced in my beautiful eyes.

I raised my hand, pushing back on Scott's. "Mr. Langley, your wife is here… Your hand…"

It was only then that he seemed to remember his hand was still inside my blouse, gripping my breasts firmly.

He quickly withdrew his hands. "I'm sorry. I mistook you for someone else," he muttered.

"Miss Adrianna, you should leave," he ordered in a firm tone, trying to dismiss me.

But I didn't move. Instead, I grabbed his wrist with a trembling hand, my face a picture of stunning panic.

"Your wife is very possessive and doesn't allow any other women near you, Mr. Langley."

My voice quivered, growing more desperate. "If I walk out now, she'll misunderstand. What should I do? I don't want to die!"

The word 'die' visibly shook him, triggering a dark shadow of painful memories to cross his face.

Just then, the door clicked open.

Michele stepped into the room.

She had caught wind of Scott being overly drunk and dressed carefully for what she deemed an opportune moment.

Her wavy hair, freshly washed, cascaded sensuously down her back while the thin straps of her seductive nightgown highlighted her curves.

A flirtatious smile played on her red lips as she approached, her voice honeyed, "Honey, I heard you had a bit too much to drink. Are you holding up alright?"

Her eyes took in the sight of Scott lying sideways on the bed, propped up on one elbow with a hand supporting his head, a thin blanket draped over his lower torso.

However, she was oblivious to my presence.

Moments before, I had leaped onto the bed and tucked myself behind him. As I did, I pulled the thin blanket over both of us, a desperate attempt to stay concealed.

The space left for me was so constrained I could only press tightly against him. My soft, rosy lips lingered near the sensitive spot on his lower back, my warm breath teasing him in a barely noticeable way.

Like a playful kitten, I was gently provoking him, and it was irresistibly alluring.

I could feel the tension in his body as he spoke in a strained voice, "It's fine. You should leave."

Michele's eyes instantly filled with unshed tears upon hearing this. She bit her lip, her voice trembling with both hurt and defiance as she mumbled, "Why must you always be so cold to me?"

Scott remained unmoved. "I've already made you my wife. What more do you want? You can't be too greedy!"

"Greedy?" Michele's voice rose, quivering with pent-up emotion.

The silent rejection had worn her down, pushing her to the edge. Now, she was standing on the brink of a breakdown.

"I'm your wife!" she cried out, her voice cracking under the weight of her desperation.

"Is it so wrong for me to want my husband's affection?"

Her voice faltered, a choked plea trembling from her lips, "I just… I just want a child. A child… one that belongs to both of us…" she spoke slowly, adding with a hopeful look, "That way, we can give our parents some closure. Doesn't that sound good?"

My gaze turned icy, a murderous aura coiling within my eyes.

'My son is dead. How can the one responsible for his death roam free and still indulge in dreams of motherhood? Michele doesn't deserve a child at all!' I cursed inwardly.

I feigned a nervous, flustered expression as I brought my face closer to him. Gently, I let my breath hover near his hip, just barely brushing against him through the thin fabric of his suit pants.

This subtle tease was intentional; how could Scott possibly resist?

His body trembled, and a low moan escaped from deep in his throat, "Mmm…"

"Scott…" Michele stood frozen, disbelief etched across her face.

Suddenly, realization seemed to hit her, and her body went rigid as her eyes reddened with anger.

I was feeling a thrill of excitement.

Not wanting the tension to drop, I deliberately shifted a little, ensuring the silhouette of a woman beneath the thin blanket was briefly visible.

Michele saw everything.

Fury overwhelmed her. Casting aside all concern for her image, she prepared to rush forward, intent on tearing apart the temptress hiding beneath the blanket.