It had been three days since the wedding, three days of playing the devoted, beaming newlywed, and three days since Victor...my husband’s father, my former sugar daddy, my current illicit obsession...had taken me against a stone wall at my own after-party.
The memory of it wasn’t just a lingering thought; it was a goddamn movie loop in my head. The feel of the cool stone against my back, the rough scrape of his tailored suit fabric on my cheek, the brutal, possessive slam of his hips as he claimed me through layers of expensive wedding lace. I could still smell the sandalwood and smoke on my skin, could still feel the phantom ache of his girth stretching me to the brink.
I loved Maxwell. I did.
He was everything a woman was supposed to want....kind, stable, and genuinely good. We’d end
