Chapter 69
Megan avoided his gaze, her back against the headboard, her voice a delicate whisper “I guess, the price you mentioned last night. includes me turning a blind eye to your fling with Cressida and to any future mistresses, right?”
Sullivan remained silent
Megan continued, “Sullivan, the moment you chose to get involved with Cressida, you stopped considering my feelings. And lets be honest, are we really husband and wife? No, we aren’t. Like you said, we are nothing more than… marriage partners.”
He had made it so clear. For her to play the role of the heartbroken fool would be ludicrous.
Finishing her piece, Sullivan couldn’t help but let out a sardonic chuckle. He approached her gently cradling her chin, his long finger tracing her flushed lips while he looked at her with a husky voice, “You’ve got quite a sharp tongue, don’t you?”
Megan, unable to bear it, tried to turn away.
But Sullivan suddenly leaned in, pinning her against the headboard. His nose was close enough to touch hers, their lips almost meeting, the softness of his breath enough to captivate the soul.
His eyes locked onto hers, his Adam’s apple tantalizingly bobbing.
“One day, Il savor this,” he murmured.
Megan was no naive girl. After three years of intimacy with Sullivan, she could read between the lines of what men said.
On nights when he came home tipsy, burning with desire, he’d ask her to please him in ways she refused. She would simply bury her head in the pillow and cry, so for three years, she never did what he asked.
Her past refusals were out of modesty. Her current reluctance was because she no longer loved him, and naturally, she wouldn’t do such things for him,
Her lips quivered.
Sullivan let her go, retreating to the bathroom to change back into the clothes he had arrived in the night before.
Upon emerging, he spoke indifferently. “Ill wait for your answer, Mrs. Lowry. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
Megan looked up, her eyes red with hurt and humiliation.
Sullivan snorted and turned to leave. Descending to the first floor, his driver was already waiting, the black stretch limousine gleaming. in the morning light.
The driver held the door open, steadying himself on the roof as he asked, “Mr. Lowry, heading to the office?”
Sullivan didn’t answer. He glanced back up at the window, where he saw Megan standing, staring out in silence. The shadows of the window panes seemed to bind her like ribbons, adding a seductive vulnerability to her figure
Outside, a maple tree stretched its branches, its leaves fiery red.
Vibrant and full of life.
After a long moment, Sullivan softly told the driver, “To the office.”
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Settling into the leather seat, he closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. He pondered over Megan’s choice, her silence on the matter of Cressida, the prospect of them retuming to a facade of a marriage–playing the loving couple by day, satisfying physical needs at night. Perhaps in a few years, he might have her bear an heir to the Lowry family.
But with no lovel
He didn’t love Megan, and Megan no longer loved him.
Fine.
In their social circle, most marriages were like this, harmonious in their own way. When husbands grew dissatisfied with their wives‘ post–pregnancy figures, they strayed, and the wives? The smart ones pretended not to notice, even helping their husbands cover up and deal with mistresses.
Fine, this was the norm for everyone!
Sullivan arrived at the office.
Bianca was in high spirits to finally see Sullivan at the office.
Sullivan had been scarce at the office lately, spending most of his time at the hospital with Megan. Blanca felt a pang of jealousy. At six in the evening, Bianca knocked and entered.
“Mr. Lowry, I’ve confirmed with Paxton’s assistant. Were set to meet at 7:30 at the HearthBond Hotel. We can go pick up Ms. Baldwin
