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Song of the Quiet Flame Novel Cover

Song of the Quiet Flame

While checking into a hotel, Elaine Johnson unexpectedly encounters the young woman her billionaire husband, Jasper Carter, is seeing. The girl appears innocent in a white dress, possessing a demure charm that Elaine cannot help but notice. Overhearing a bashful phone conversation, Elaine listens as the mistress speaks to Jasper with sweet, nervous anticipation. This modern romance novel captures a wife's quiet observation of her husband's refined taste and the delicate girl waiting for him.
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Chapter 3

Elaine's blood ran hot through her veins.

The presence that she could not escape made her want to bolt.

She inhaled deeply. As she turned, the man caught her chin and kissed her fiercely and possessively.

Her mind was a whirl of irritation and confusion.

Part of her wanted to pull away.

He seemed to read her thoughts, nipping her lip in a warning. "Having second thoughts?"

However, before Elaine could respond, her eyes brimmed with tears.

The man laughed and locked eyes with her, a smirk playing on his lips. "You weren't scared when you were pushing your card into my hand."

Elaine could not blame anyone but herself; she had had too much to drink that night.

Spurred on by her friend, she boldly gave her card to the most dashing guy there.

Little did she know that he was Jasper's cousin, who was always overseas.

She had figured Stephen Carter would lose interest once he knew who she was.

Yet there he was, showing up for their date.

Elaine's voice tightened, and there was a whisper of urgency as she said, "They're right next door."

Stephen hummed a low note. "What's next?"

He gently turned her face to his, gazing deeply into her eyes. "Is this getting in the way of us?"

Elaine met his dark, penetrating gaze and felt exposed, as if he could see right into her soul.

For the last two years, Jasper's romantic escapades were relentless, his flings and affairs splashed across the tabloids were too many to count.

Stephen said, "Or are you holding out for him, keeping yourself pure?"

The words pierced Elaine's inner turmoil like a needle.

She paused, her heart racing, and then she made her move.

With a boldness that surprised even herself, she cradled his face, rose on her tiptoes, and pressed her lips to his.

Passion did not always need love to ignite into a blazing fire.

Elaine had not touched a drop of alcohol that night, yet she felt utterly drunk at the moment.

Lost in the intensity, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her short nails carving fervent trails across his skin.

As the night wore on, Elaine's mind wandered.

Thoughts of Jasper invaded her senses, unbidden and persistent.

Through her haze, the shrill ring of her phone pierced the silence.

Jasper, who had ended their call just two hours before, was on the other end.

Elaine picked up the phone and heard his voice—low, husky, and lazy. "Why are you calling me?"

"It's nothing," she replied, a sense of finality in her voice.

With a soft grunt, she said, "It's done."

A wave of vindictive satisfaction washed over her, a silent victory over Jasper.

Without another word, she ended the call.

Stephen noticed the redness at the corner of her eyes and gently wiped it away, murmuring, "My dear."

Elaine bristled at how he addressed her, as a mix of discomfort and embarrassment washed over her. "Please don't call me that."

Traditionally, she was supposed to refer to him as her husband's cousin.

Stephen's eyebrows knitted in a frown. "Aren't you two in the middle of a divorce?"

Elaine was taken aback, not expecting Stephen to know her personal affairs.

She was the one who had asked for the divorce.

Jasper had agreed without hesitation.

He had even swiftly set up a lawyer and drafted the paperwork.

Of course, he expected her to walk away empty-handed despite lacking a prenup or any division of assets.

However, Jasper had the means to leave her penniless after the divorce if he chose to.

The old Elaine could never have imagined Jasper turning his company's formidable legal force on her.

It was a harsh, icy slap of reality. There was not even a trace of their past affection.