Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Heavy, labored breaths echoed through the opulent room.

Mila lay helplessly across the glass table, her white sweater askew, her back throbbing with pain, and her beautiful eyes misty with tears. Despite her weakness, she focused on the man leaning over her.

Lysander, in his bespoke black suit, appeared equally disheveled. His sharp features carried an intensity that matched the heat of his breath against her delicate face. His piercing eyes, usually so captivating, were clouded. At one time, they would have drawn her in completely.

She had to admit, Lysander's face was one that could easily make anyone lose their sense of reason. But now, it held no allure for her.

Perhaps it was the pain in her back.

The pain that kept her painfully aware.

"My dear," Lysander whispered, his breath warm against her ear as his nose brushed her cheek. "Have I spoiled you too much lately? You dared to come here tonight with threats and bold words. Quite the nerve, I must say."

"Ah—hurts—" Mila winced as he bit her ear, pain sparking through her.

"My dear, go on. You know how to please me," Lysander murmured, looking down at her with a teasing smirk. "Isn't that why you came to find me?"

Mila bit her lip, remaining still. She understood his implication; she had come to beg him to spare her friend, and she knew the price.

It was an exchange.noveldrama

She knew it, yet the humiliation lingered. Never before had it been clearer that in Lysander's eyes, she meant nothing. Seven years of marriage, and not a shred of affection.

What did these years mean to Lysander? Mila didn't need to ask. She knew the answer: a marriage forced upon him, a mark of his past weakness and shame.

Suppressing her indignation, she slowly raised her slender arms, wrapping them around his tense neck. She braced against the stabbing pain in her back and closed her eyes to hide the dimming light within them.

Just as she steeled herself to lean in, there was a knock on the door.

"Sir, Ms. Harvey is next door and requests your presence. She says it's urgent," came Leonard's steady voice from outside.

Giselle again.

Mila halted, her lashes fluttering open to meet Lysander's sweat-drenched face. "Continue," he rasped, ignoring the interruption.

Reluctantly, Mila moved closer, her soft kiss landing on the corner of his mouth. Before she could proceed, Lysander clicked his tongue impatiently.

A moment later, he captured her lips with a fierce intensity, leaving her breathless. After a pause, he released her.

Mila gasped for air, half-leaning against Lysander, supported only by his arm. His words whispered into her ear.

"After all these years, my dear, you still haven't learned a thing. You should practice more."

With that, he pushed her weakened body back onto the table. Lysander straightened, smoothing his rumpled suit. His eyes, moments ago filled with desire, returned to their usual coldness.

He prepared to leave.

Mila, propped up on one hand against the cold glass, reached out, grabbing hold of him as he turned to go.