Page 6 of My Ruthless Husband

It’s not just his deep voice slicing through the air like it’s meant to cut me open. It’s the way his presence owns the room without even trying.

I hate how my body reacts to him, how my pulse races and my skin heats under his gaze. It’s infuriating and embarrassing. He’s a dangerous kind of beautiful disaster, and the worst part? He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. The space between us feels like a live wire, buzzing with electricity I’m too weak to sever.

I take a small step to the side. Toward the bedroom door. If I can just be brave and dash outside in the living area, I can—

“Don’t even think about it, River.” He speaks unhurriedly and a burst of fear pricks my skin with goosebumps. The haze of the wine is fully cleared.

“What are you doing here?” My voice shakes as he drags his eyes from my red-painted lips down to my body, taking in my bare shoulders and the short black dress. His jaw ticks as he watches. He is searching for his timid wife who dresses in dull muted colors. The wife whose makeup screamed sophistication instead of bold and seductive.

He might think I am rebelling but truth be told, I was simply concealing my identity. Being the wife of one of the richest men in the world entails unwanted exposure.

To keep a low profile, I reinvented myself completely. But it was all for nothing—because now, I’m standing face to face with my ruthless husband.

So, earlier… that man… I wasn’t imagining things after all. Hal really was following me.

I clear my throat when his gaze stays on my bare thighs for a second too long. Slowly taking his time, he brings his eyes back up. “Come give me a kiss first.”

My mouth falls open in disbelief. Is he really going to pretend that everything is fine between us? I left him, and yet he’s acting as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. As if this is just another routine part of his day.

“I amnotdoing that.”

His brow furrows. “Is that any way to greet your husband, angel?”

When I don’t move, he sighs and pushes to his feet. His large frame straightens to his full height of six feet three and suddenly the air in the room becomes stifling.

My heart thumps hard when he begins walking toward me. He does that so leisurely but the storm brewing in his dark as night eyes tells me I’m in trouble.

I plaster my back against the wall when he stops mere inches away from me. He raises his hand and tucks a curl behind my ear. Then he lets his fingertips trail down my cheek. For the briefest of seconds, I forget about everything and lean into his gentle touch.

“I thought you loved me, angel,” he murmurs as he cups my cheek.

“I do.” The words are out before I can swallow them. Dark satisfaction burns in his eyes. “Good.”

His reply jars me. I’ve loved Damian so much, enough for the both of us. That’s why I didn’t care that he never said those words back. But now? His “good” in response to my confessionsinks like a hook in my heart, making it heavy with crushing disappointment.

He tilts my face up. “Did you miss me?”

“I-I didn’t.” The lie feels heavy on my tongue, because the truth is, he never left my mind. Not for a second. This whole week, I was a wreck. Miserable. Heartbroken. Devastated. I spent every moment struggling to accept the reality—that Damian, the only man I’ve ever loved, would soon be gone from my life. That I’d have to divorce him.

The word divorce brings a wave of pain that threatens to cripple me. I stare at him with moisture in my eyes and wonder if he ever longed for me more than my body.

“So my innocent wife has learned to lie?” His expression is chastising as he closes what little space separating us by putting his front flush with mine. “What else did you learn while I was away?”

My hands come up as I try to push him away. “Don’t touch me.”

“But you love me touching you.” He runs his knuckles along my throat. I shiver. The warm, spicy notes of his cologne drift to me, mingling with the unmistakable scent of him—a scent my body instantly recognizes and aches for.

It’s true, isn’t it? He’s right. I crave his touch—every part of him. I love every moment I can have with him. I want him. Ineedhim. All the damn time. The worst part is that he knows it. He knows how much I long for him and he is using it to humiliate me.

I glance up at him with welling eyes. “Do you love me, Damian?”

He stills, then his hand falls to his side and with a deliberate step back, he studies me, his face blank.

The silence crushes what little is left of my heart.

“Let me rephrase that.” I give a shaky smile, but it’s a poor attempt to cover the raw ache inside. A tear slips down my cheek, and I wipe it away in desperation, my hands trembling. “D-did you… ever love me?”

“What is this about?” His tone is curt.

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