She just wanted to cut through the mess quickly, finalize the divorce, and start her new life.
Lysander''s gaze lingered on M''s perfect, curvaceous figure before settling on therge bruises. Any trace of tenderness he had felt moments before vanished.
He picked up a tube of ointment from the bedside table and gently pulled her towards him, asking softly, "Let me apply this for you. Does it still hurt?"
M pped his hand away, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Seven years, Lysander, and not once did you show me any warmth. Do you think this act is amusing now?"
Seven years of neglect-she hadn''t lost her memory. Each disappointment had left its mark, and her heart, once full of love, had been trampled beyond recognition.
And now he was pretending to care?
...
M''s eyes were filled with impatience,cking the affection they used to hold when she looked at him.
Lysander watched her, her resolve as unyielding as steel, his dark eyes inscrutable. They locked gazes in silence until he pulled her into his embrace without warning.
He held her with a firm yet gentle grip, applying the ointment carefully on her delicate back. Her shoulder des fluttered like the wings of a butterfly, as if ready to take flight under the soft glow of themp.
Instinctively, Lysander tightened his hold.
The warmth of her skin was intoxicating, and it wasn''t long before his body responded, his eyes darkening with desire.
Sensing the shift, M''s temper red, "Lysander, you jerk! Let me go!" "Stay still."
He easily restrained her, maintaining his steady movements with the ointment, though his voice was thick with a husky restraint, "You''re hurt. I won''t push you tonight. But if you keep moving..."
He left the threat hanging in the air, the tension in his body a clear warning to M.
That bastard!
...
Once the ointment was applied, M quickly slipped into her pajamas and buried herself under the covers.
She hadn''t forgotten the purpose of tonight.
"Lysander, the divorce is between us. It''s not anyone else''s business, and that''s my boundary. I''ve said it before, don''t push me."
Shey on her side, her eyes fixed on a point in the void, her voice calm but resolute.
Soon, she felt the bed dip slightly beside her. Lysander''s voice came from above, equally calm and detached, "We can settle things with Miranda. But as for the divorce, it''s not going to happen."
M felt exhausted.
She couldn''t understand what Lysander was holding onto. He didn''t love her; was
it just male pride, or was his possessiveness really that intense?
What was he thinking? Keeping a wife at home and a mistress on the side?
Not that someone like Giselle would ever agree to it, and M found the idea utterly repulsive.
Whether it was for some twisted sense of conquest or due to theplexities of dividing assets, M no longer cared to ask. Communication hadpletely broken down, but at least Lysander kept his word about Miranda. That matter was resolved.
Tomorrow, she''d confirm it and start looking for anotherwyer.
If they still couldn''t reach an agreement, they''d have to go to court.
She refused to believe that the Montgomery family could control all of Kingsford. Someone out there, for the right price, wouldn''t be intimidated by their power.
That night, despite her protests, Lysander held her in his arms as they slept. The next morning, M woke up to find Lysander already gone from the room. Not that she was concerned. She didn''t care about her recovery or where Adrian might be. She simply got in her car and left.
After all, she had only promised to stay at the Montgomery estate for one night.
It was Saturday, a day off from work. After confirming with Miranda that her friend was alright, M finally felt at ease.
She and Miranda arranged to meet another time for a more in-depth conversation, and M headed to her studio.
The divorce turmoil had drained her, nearly making her forget another important matter: her great-aunt, whom she hadn''t seen in seven years, had just finished attending the Verdelune Fashion Week and would be returning home tomorrow.