Roxanne stood entirely frozen, her eyelids squeezed shut as the masked man’s warm palm slid upward from her waist. The moment his fingers spanned the swell of her breast, squeezing firmly through the silk, her breathing turned ragged.

Her heart hammered frantically against her ribs. But just as a wave of pure pleasure threatened to pull her under, the image of Christian lying in bed, absorbed in another woman’s nude photos, flashed through her mind again, twisting painfully inside her chest.

Humiliation, anger, need, everything tangled together until she could barely separate one feeling from the next. Part of her wanted revenge. She wanted to stop hurting for one night. Wanted this man to touch her until she forgot Christian’s name entirely.

Yet, even as the stranger’s fingers slid lower, dipping between her thighs to find the slick, hyper-sensitive heat of her clit, even as her head fell back heavily against his broad chest, a helpless moan tearing from her throat as pleasure claimed her, the part of her still tethered to her vows, the part that had only ever known Christian’s touch, screamed in agony inside her head.

Oblivious, the stranger’s hand slowly gathered the hem of her dress, sliding the silk up her thighs. Panicking, Roxanne lunged downward, her trembling fingers clamping over his wrist to halt the movement.

He stopped immediately. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, he tilted his head, his lips grazing the sensitive shell of her ear. "Why are you hesitating?" he murmured, his deep baritone vibrating straight into her skin. "What are you so afraid of?"

Roxanne swallowed hard against the dry lump in her throat. "I—" The word withered and died before it could clear her lips.

"Afraid you’ll regret this?" he asked, his tone calm.

Roxanne nodded slowly, her eyes brimming with hot tears. "I love my—"

"If he felt the same way," the man interrupted quietly, "you wouldn’t be here."

The truth in those words hit her harder than she expected.

"Just relax," he continued softly. "Let yourself be taken care of tonight."

He shifted against her, and Roxanne could feel the solid heat of him behind her, steady and overwhelming. His fingers flexed to resume their torment, but she gripped his hand tighter, a single tear tracking down her flushed cheek.

"I want this. God, I want this more than anything," she choked out, her throat burning as more tears rolled down. "But I don’t think I can do this."

The masked man went entirely still. "Is that what you truly want? To walk away?"

Roxanne opened her mouth, but no answer came. Because she didn’t know anymore.

Slowly, the masked man’s hands fell away from her body, the sudden absence of his warmth leaving her feeling cold.

"I guess you’ve made your decision," he said calmly, there was neither anger nor frustration in his tone. "I’ll only touch you when you’re sure."

Roxanne’s breathing remained uneven as she stared ahead, fighting the storm inside her chest.

"But I’ll tell you one thing." He paused, his shadow towering over her. "You deserve more," he said quietly. "More than begging to be seen by a man who barely looks at you."

Roxanne’s breath hitched, her heart hammering a chaotic rhythm. How did he know?

Driven by a sudden impulse, she whirled around to face him. He was already turning to step back into the deeper shadows of the lounge, but she lunged forward, her fingers tightly locking around his forearm. He stopped, his dark eyes boring into hers through the cutouts of his mask.

Her gaze searched his face desperately as she reached toward his mask. "You sound like you know me," she whispered. "Who are you?"

Before he could answer, someone tapped lightly against her arm. Roxanne jolted, her chest heaving as she spun around. But there was no one there.

Panic spiking, she snapped her head back around to confront the masked man, but he was gone. The security guard who had been standing near the exit had vanished as well. It was as if the room had swallowed them whole, leaving her entirely alone.

Her fingers curled into empty air, her shoulders finally slumping as the adrenaline began to drain from her body. She sniffled softly, wiping a stray tear from her cheek as she turned toward the exit, a bitter, venomous ache taking root in her chest.

"Damn you, Christian," she muttered under her breath, her fingers tightening into tight fists. "Damn you for doing this to me."

—-

The heavy wood of the penthouse door clicked shut, and Roxanne slumped against it, her back sliding down the smooth surface. The quiet of the apartment was suffocating.

Standing there in the dim entrace, her skin still vibrated with a lingering, treacherous heat. All she could think about was the masked stranger. The way his voice had wrapped around her. The way her body had responded so helplessly to his touch.

Why had she stopped him when she wanted him so badly? The question followed her like a shadow as she pushed herself away from the door and started toward the bedroom, her heels dangling loosely from her fingers.

The moment she crossed the threshold, a thick, suffocating scent of expensive designer cologne hit the back of her throat. Christian was standing by the mirror, adjusting the collar of a crisp, button-down shirt.

Where is he going now? The question flared bitterly in her mind. Her eyes narrowed. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet.

Christian didn’t stop adjusting his cuffs. He cast a single, detached glance at her through the mirror’s reflection. "Out," he replied curtly.

"To meet the girl from the screen?"

That finally got his attention. Christian looked at her fully now, his brows pulling together. "You shouldn’t be checking my phone, Rox. You’re only going to get hurt."

"Can you hurt me any more than you already are?" Roxanne asked. Her shoes and purse slipped from her hands onto the floor as she walked toward him.

Christian’s expression softened briefly as he looked down at her. For a second, she hated that tiny flicker of tenderness more than his cruelty.

"Saying things like that makes me sound like the bad guy, Rox," he murmured, reaching out to casually brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek. "We both know I’m not."

"Then don’t go," she blurted out.

Driven by a raw, frantic need to be anchored, to prove to herself that her marriage wasn’t a ghost town, she pressed up onto her toes. Before he could pull away, she crashed her lips against his. To her utter surprise, Christian didn’t flinch or push her back. Instead, his arms wrapped around her waist, and he actually returned the kiss.

Roxanne leaned into him entirely, her eyes burning behind her closed lids as she deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of longing and heartbreak into it.

Then his phone buzzed. Christian froze instantly.

"Ignore it," Roxanne breathed against his mouth, her lips chasing his as he tried to pull back. "Chris, please, just ignore it."

But Christian pulled back. "I need to go, Rox," he said flatly, snatching the glowing device from the dresser and already pivoting toward the door.

"Don’t go, Chris," her voice broke. Tears blurred her vision as she took a step toward him. "Please."

Christian paused at the doorway. For a second, she thought maybe he would stay. Turning his head, his gaze swept down her form, taking in her flushed skin and her heavy breathing.

"You look horny," he said casually.

The words hit her hard enough to make her flinch.

"You should find a man to take care of that." A cruel smirk tugged faintly at his mouth. "Not sure anyone would want to, though." He turned on his heel and walked out.

The front door slammed a moment later, the heavy thud echoing through the empty penthouse, leaving Roxanne standing alone in the suffocating scent of his cologne.