He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Chapter 5: Are You Ready?

Roxanne exhaled sharply, her gaze fixed on the small card in her hand as her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably. What if she called him? What would happen if she stopped fighting this? Her pulse quickened at the thought, heat creeping into her skin despite herself.

"That would mean I’m giving up," she whispered, staring down at the paper as if it might answer her. "And I’m not ready to give up on my marriage." fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

With that final, desperate decision anchoring her, she squeezed her fingers together, crushing the paper into a tight, crumpled ball before tossing it into the trash bin by the vanity. It landed with a soft rustle.

Roxanne stared at it for a long moment, and instantly, her body betrayed her again. Her skin was flushing hot as she recalled his breath against her neck and the deep rasp of his voice telling her he wanted to make her feel alive.

A shiver crawled unwillingly down her spine. Roxanne turned away quickly, not just from the card, but from everything it represented. She slipped out of her silk dress, the cool fabric sliding down her legs, before heading into the bathroom.

Minutes later, she stepped back into the bedroom. Christian was already in bed. A small flicker of hope bloomed painfully inside her chest at the sight of him there.

Roxanne walked slowly toward the bed, loosening the knot of her robe as she moved. The silk slid from her shoulders and fell to the floor behind her, leaving her naked beneath the soft bedroom lights.

She waited. Waited for his eyes to lift. Waited for him to look at her the way he used to. But Christian’s eyes never left the glowing screen of his phone. She cleared her throat softly. Still, he didn’t blink. He seemed utterly consumed by whatever was on the screen.

Swallowing her humiliation, Roxanne climbed into bed beside him and slid under the heavy blanket, her bare skin shivering against the cold sheets. She took a deep, steadying breath, summoning the courage to reach out to him, but the moment she turned her head, the words died in her throat.

The screen of his phone was angled just enough for her to see the image of a completely naked woman.

Roxanne’s breath hitched in her chest. She watched, paralyzed, as Christian bit lightly against his lower lip as he swiped to the next picture. He didn’t even acknowledge the shift in the mattress beside him, didn’t care that she was right there.

Her jaw tightened so hard her teeth ached. Not only had he slept with another woman earlier that night, but now he was lying beside his wife while admiring the nude photos of someone else entirely. And not even the same woman from three weeks ago.

The grief in her chest instantly snapped quietly as humiliation and fury surged through her chest so fast it almost made her dizzy.

With a sharp motion, she shoved the blanket aside and swung her legs out of bed. She snatched her robe from the floor and pulled it over her trembling limbs. She spun on her heel to flee the suffocating room, but as she reached the door, her eyes landed on the small trash bin.

The ball of paper was waiting. Without a single second of hesitation, she crouched down and picked the crumpled paper out of the bin. Christian finally glanced up, his eyes flickering toward her disheveled movement for a fraction of a second before lazily dropping back down to his screen.

Roxanne didn’t say a word. She ripped the bedroom door open, stepped out into the hallway, and slammed the heavy wood behind her with a deafening thud that shook the frame, her fingers tightly flattening the crushed card against her palm.

As she reached the small living room just down the hall, Roxanne practically collapsed onto the couch. Her eyes burned fiercely. She pressed the heel of her palm hard against her eyelids, tilting her head back as she fiercely blinked back the tears threatening to blur her vision.

Sniffling, she smoothed out the wrinkled card against her knee, her gaze locking onto the bold, dark ink of the phone number.

Suddenly, Christian’s careless laughter drifted through the closed bedroom door. That sound, the proof that he was entirely unbothered while her world lay in ruins, was the final, devastating straw.

With trembling fingers, she unlocked her phone. Her jaw set, a cold resolve hardening in her chest as she punched the digits into the keypad one by one. Her thumb hovered over the glowing green call icon for a long, agonizing heartbeat.

Then, she tapped it.

Roxanne dragged a deep breath into her lungs before pressing the glass against her burning ear. The line rang twice before it connected.

"Is this—" Her throat tightened. "Is this the man from the VIP lounge?"

A brief silence stretched over the line, thick with anticipation. Then, that smooth, gravelly baritone vibrated through the speaker.

"Glad you decided to call." His tone was infuriatingly calm, a stark contrast to the absolute chaos hammering inside her ribs.

Roxanne threw one last, icy look toward the master bedroom door and nodded to the empty room. "I’m ready," she whispered. The words sent a nervous shiver through her body. "Where do I go?"

—

An hour later.

Roxanne’s legs felt unsteady beneath her as the host led her down the quiet, heavily carpeted corridor of the private club. Every step made her pulse race faster. This was insane. Completely insane.

But tonight, her heartbreak had become unbearable, and somehow, this place, the stranger, felt like the only escape from it.

"Please go right in, ma’am," the host murmured, gesturing toward the heavy, dark wood door.

Roxanne took a hesitant step forward, the heavy scent of vanilla and expensive amber washing over her. But just before entering, she hesitated. Her fingers curled tightly around her purse as doubt crashed into her again.

What was she doing?

Slowly, she turned back. But the host was gone, and she was entirely alone. Swallowing the sudden dryness in her throat, she forced her gaze forward and crossed the threshold into the dark luxury of the lounge.

The moment she stepped into the dimly lit space, a masked hostess approached her immediately and handed her a black lace mask. She took it with a trembling hand and lifted it to press against her flushed face.

But as she reached up, her fingers fumbling with the satin ribbons behind her head, a large, warm hand gently brushed against her knuckles.

Roxanne froze. She didn’t even need to turn around. Her skin immediately erupted in goosebumps, her body instantly recognizing the intoxicating, heavy presence anchoring itself right behind her spine. freёwebnoѵel.com

"Let me," he murmured, his voice a deep, dark velvet that seemed to wrap around her senses like a drug.

Roxanne swallowed hard, her head dipping in a tight, helpless nod. As his large fingers deftly took the ribbons from her, his knuckles brushed against the sensitive skin of her nape, sending a spike of electricity straight down her spine.

Her heart battered so fiercely against her ribs, she was absolutely certain he could hear it echoing in the quiet space between their bodies.

He finished tying the knot, securing her disguise. But before she could pull away, his chest pressed flush against her back, his towering frame completely trapping her in his heat. He leaned down, his lips brushing the bare, sensitive skin right beneath her ear.

"Are you ready?" he whispered, his massive hand sliding around her waist, his palm gripping her hip with a firm, possessive squeeze that pulled her back tight against his hard length.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly as her mind spiraled between guilt, desire, heartbreak, and need. And worst of all, a part of her wanted to say yes.