Briony Kensington and Stewart Wentworth had been secretly married for five years-living as husband and wife in form, but never in feeling.


    Or rather, if Briony felt anything at all for her husband, she hid it so well that not a trace ever showed.


    On Christmas Eve, the city outside was alive with lights andughter, the streets nketed with fresh snow. Inside the vast, echoing halls of Southcreek Manor, Briony sat alone.


    She''d made herself a bowl of pasta, but hadn''t taken a single bite.


    Her phoney on the table, screen aglow with a video from social media—


    A man''s slender, elegant hand slid a diamond ring onto a woman''s delicate finger. The woman''s voice, bright and sweet, chimed in the caption: "Mr. Wentworth, here''s to the rest of our lives."


    Briony''s eyes were drawn to the watch on the man''s wrist-a limited edition piece, unmistakably his. A sharp ache twisted in her chest.


    The video had long since paused, but she couldn''t tear her gaze away. She watched it over and over, torturing herself with the certainty.


    Six months ago, this woman had sent her a friend request out of the blue.


    Ever since, Briony had seen her husband pop up in the woman''s posts with disturbing regrity.


    Five years of marriage, and only tonight did Briony realize Stewart was capable of tenderness, of romance, of caring attention.


    The pasta, once steaming, had gone cold.


    She tried to pick up her fork, but her hand felt numb and useless.


    Just like her marriage-cold and untouched, something she shouldn''t keep stirring.


    Shutting her eyes, Briony let the tears fall. She stood, washed up, and retreated to her room, turning off the lights and lying down in darkness.


    Night deepened. The bedroom was warm, but the silence was broken by the quiet rustle of someone undressing.


    Brionyy on her side, feigning sleep.


    She heard Stewarte in, felt the mattress dip under his weight.


    A momentter, his body pressed close, heavy and unyielding.


    Briony''s brow furrowed.


    In the next instant, her nightgown was pushed up, his warm, dry hand sliding across her skin-


    She jolted, eyes flying open.


    Stewart''s sharply handsome face hovered above her, the bridge of his nose framed by his familiar silver-rimmed sses. The bedsidemp cast a soft orange glow, reflecting off the lenses.


    Behind the ss, his dark eyes were stormy with desire.


    "Back early, aren''t you?" Her voice came out soft and a little shaky.


    He studied the reddened rims of her eyes, one eyebrow arching. "Not happy to see me?"


    Briony met his gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not unhappy. Just surprised, that''s all."


    His long fingers brushed gently over her cheek, the touch both tender and possessive. His voice was low and rough, colored with an intimacy she''d never truly known from him. "Take off my sses."


    Briony hesitated, frowning.


    His fingertips lingered on her skin, and for a moment she was lost in the face she''d once adored-until the image from that woman''s post shed through her mind.


    She''d always given in, never wanting to spoil his mood. But tonight, for the first time, she turned away, her tone cold. "I''m not feeling well."


    "Your period?"


    "No, I just "


    "Then don''t ruin the moment."


    He cut her off, voice icy, eyes dark as midnight.


    Briony knew he wouldn''t let it go.


    She''d always been the one to bend, the one to swallow her pride in this marriage.


    Her chest ached, eyes stinging with unshed tears.


    He tossed his sses onto the nightstand and gripped her slender ankle with onerge hand-


    The bedsidemp flicked off, plunging the room into darkness.