Page 67 of My Ruthless Husband

Damian flashes him an impatient look. Despite the tender smile I manage to conjure, my voice carries a hint of melancholy as I respond, “Well, actually, it was me who pursued him.”

A thick silence settles around us after my confession. Damian’s jaw clenches noticeably.

His grin widens. “No offense, man, but I’ve seen most men cower in front of you. And then there’s your wife, this fragile little thing. It’s pretty hard to picture her pursuing you.” He chuckles softly before turning his attention back to me. “So, River, tell me, what made you fall for him?”

“My private life is none of your business,” Damian says brusquely.

“Stop being nosy, Carlos,” The other man says, picking up on the tense atmosphere as he glances at Damian.

“Sorry, not sorry,” he grins, shrugging with a mischievous glint in his eye. “This guy’s a damn enigma. He barely says a word, and when he does, it’s all business. Never shows up to any of our parties. I won’t let this opportunity pass me by. So, River. What was it about him that made you fall for him?”

“I just couldn’t help it.” A soft smile graces my lips as I recount the memory of my eighteenth birthday. “It was my birthday. I couldn’t even remember anything else from that night because everything faded the second I laid eyes on him.” I stare into the distance, reminiscing. “I was drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. I don’t even know how—I just felt this... hollowness in him that resonated with the emptiness I carried within me.” And now I’m not even sure what I felt was ever real. My lower lip trembles.

The memory shouldn’t cut as deep as it does. But looking back on that day, all I feel is foolish. Naïve. I see it now that every touch, every kiss and every word he gave me in the past meant nothing.

If I hadn’t read those files that day, I still would’ve stupidly thought his kiss from earlier meant something more. But now I see for what is really is—lust.

That is the worst form of rejection. I know that now. Because I’m just a means to an end for the love of my life. I am just a body for him because I could never be something more. And that is the most heartbreaking thing for a woman who did nothing but worship her man. I blink back my tears.

Just then, Damian reaches out. Capturing my face with a hand, he bends his head and kisses me passionately.

Right there, in front of his business associates and a ballroom full of socialites, he kisses me possessively.

I hear someone clearing their throat, Carlos commenting how we are still in the honeymoon phase among few female gasps.

When he releases me, I stare at him in a daze. He tucks my curl before pressing his lips against mine once more, this time softly. “I ruined your lipstick again,” he says, breathing hard without an ounce of guilt.

I duck my face, flushing.

“Hal.” Damian speaks and immediately, Hal is by my side and is whisking me away from the group.

???

After using the ladies’ room, I decided to leave the gentlemen to their conversation and wandered alone. Well, with Hal shadowing. Because Damian ordered him to.

My heart flutters with a mixture of emotions, and my cheeks tingle from the memory of his lips pressed against mine. I can’t believe he did that, right in front of everyone.

The music playing softly seems to fade away as I replay the kiss in my mind. His touch was firm yet tender. Was it an act to shield my vulnerable side? Or was it a move to stop me from humiliating myself by speaking about our past?

I touch my lips which are still tingling from his kiss.

I take a deep breath, trying to regain my composure. This is not the time for overthinking.

The walls are adorned with vibrant artwork, each piece reflecting the healing power of mental health support. I focus on studying them as if they hold the answers to the questions swirling in my mind.

My attention remains fixated on the artwork, contemplating its intricate details, when a new, deep captivating voice fills the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice begins, laced with a hint of smile, “I must say, this gala is straight out of the sets of a movie, but it seems my eyes have been blessed with something equally exquisite.”

I glance around the room, and I can see heads turning toward the podium where the speaker stands, a figure shrouded in the dim light.

It’s a voice I don’t recognize, yet its rich timbre pulls my attention. A ripple of laughter spreads through the audience as he skillfully combines charm and wit.

I find myself curious enough to crane my neck to get a better view. The dim light of the ballroom had obscured his figure, but now he strides confidently into the spotlight. He is tall, with a commanding presence and with dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and rugged good looks. He looks close to Damian’s age. Early thirties.

“As I stand here,” he continues, his gaze sweeping the room, “I can’t help but admire the beauty that surrounds us, both in the art on these walls and in the faces gathered here tonight.” His gaze meets mine then and he holds the contact for a second too long.

I avert my eyes quickly, feeling a bit out of sort.

---