Chapter 23 Chapter 23 The Dominant Sex
Emmanuella’s POV
One thing was clear: a cheating husband who got caught deserved no happiness—not even in his own home. And as much as I intended to keep Gabriel in this marriage, no matter what, he didn’t deserve to enjoy it.
When he returned from the business trip where he had gone to close a deal, his expression said it all. He had lost.
I already knew. Before his arrival, I’d seen the news about Rebecca’s company partnering with a certain Lorenzo Fabrizio. I didn’t know who Lorenzo was, but I’d bet my life it had something to do with Gabriel.
He stumbled through the door, dropping his briefcase carelessly near the entrance. His tie was loosened, his shirt wrinkled, and his steps heavy. He extended a luxurious package toward me—a gift—the one I had asked him to buy for me.
“Here,” he muttered, his voice flat.
I took the box, my lips curling into a small smile as I opened it. Inside was a delicate designer bag studded with diamonds. I examined it closely, twisting it under the light.
“It’s pretty,” I said dismissively, as if it were a trinket.
Gabriel said nothing. He sank into the armchair, his shoulders slumped, his hands rubbing his face like he was trying to scrub away the frustration.
“Rough trip?” I asked, my tone dripping with feigned sweetness.
He shot me a glance, his lips pressing into a thin line.
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. “Don’t worry, dear. Not every opportunity ends in success. You’d know that better than anyone.”
His expression darkened, but he held his tongue.
Satisfied, I turned on my heel and headed to the bedroom. His failures weren’t my concern. My job was to maintain appearances, to look good, and to be the envy of everyone who knew us.
In the bedroom, I pulled out my wardrobe, carefully selecting an outfit that complemented my newest designer bag. It had to be perfect—chic, elegant, and attention-grabbing. As I dressed, my mind wandered to Gabriel.
No matter how much I hated him for what he’d done, I couldn’t deny one thing: he was resilient. That was part of what drew me to him in the first place. He didn’t give up, not easily. When one door closed, he kicked open another.
It was almost a shame, really, that his fire had dimmed since marrying me.
When I returned to the living room, Gabriel was hunched over his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard. His brows furrowed in deep concentration, as if solving the world’s most pressing problem.
For a moment, I simply watched him. Despite everything, there was something fascinating about the way he worked—focused, determined, as though the world outside didn’t exist.
Then he sighed heavily and slammed the laptop shut. Rising to his feet, he began pacing the room like a caged animal. His hand went to his stomach, and his gaze flickered toward the kitchen.
He was hungry. It was obvious. But I hadn’t prepared anything for him, and I wouldn’t. If he wanted to eat, he could figure it out himself.
“Still pacing, Gabriel?” I teased, leaning against the doorframe.
He stopped, glancing at me with tired eyes.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” I added, smirking. “Or perhaps you’re haunted by one.”
He stiffened, his face a mask of unreadable tension. I knew the weight of my words. It was a game I enjoyed playing—tugging at the strings of his past.
Ignoring his discomfort, I stepped back into the bedroom and reached for my secret weapon—a sheer black lingerie set that was designed to drive any man wild. It barely covered anything, accentuating every curve.
When I returned, Gabriel’s eyes flicked toward me. For a moment, I thought I saw a spark of interest, but it vanished as quickly as it came. He looked away, disinterested.
I wouldn’t accept that.
“Pull down your pants,” I commanded, my voice firm.
He froze, his eyes snapping back to mine. “What?”
“You heard me.” I stepped closer, my heels clicking against the polished floor. “Take them off.”
He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Emmanuella, I’m not in the mood for—”
“I didn’t ask if you were in the mood,” I interrupted, my tone sharp. “Do it.”
Gabriel’s shoulders sagged in defeat. He unbuckled his belt and slid his pants down, leaving them pooled around his ankles.
“Good,” I said, circling him like a predator. “Now make it stand.”
His face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger, but he obeyed. His movements were slow and mechanical.
As I watched him, a satisfied smile curled my lips. “You should be grateful, Gabriel,” I murmured. “I’m not like your ex-wife. I don’t demand perfection—just obedience.”
His hand faltered, and he looked up at me with a mixture of anger and despair. “Why do you keep bringing her up?”
I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Oh, just a passing thought. After all, she’s the reason you’re here, isn’t she? Or rather... not here.”
The color drained from his face, and he looked away, resuming his task.
“Lie down on the couch,” I ordered once he was ready.
He did as he was told, stretching out on the plush cushions. I climbed on top of him, lowering myself slowly, deliberately. My hands rested on his chest, my nails digging into his skin.
“Tell me you love me,” I said, my voice dripping with authority.
“I love you,” he muttered, the words hollow.
“Louder.”
“I love you,” he said again, his voice cracking slightly.
“Good boy.”
But it wasn’t enough. I climbed off him and knelt on the couch, arching my back.
“Put it in,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. “And don’t hold back.”
Gabriel hesitated for a moment before positioning himself behind me. His movements were mechanical, lacking any real passion. But I didn’t care. This wasn’t about love or desire—it was about control.
“Harder,” I commanded, my voice firm.
He obeyed, his thrusts becoming more forceful.
“Smile,” I said, glancing back at him.
He forced a weak smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
This marriage was draining him—I could see it in every movement, every expression. But it didn’t matter. Gabriel wasn’t going anywhere.
When we were done, I stood and adjusted my lingerie, my expression cold.
“Clean yourself up,” I said, heading toward the bedroom.
As I closed the door behind me, a sense of satisfaction washed over me. Gabriel might hate me, but he was mine. And he wasn’t getting away.
This marriage wasn’t just a commitment—it was a battlefield. And I intended to win, no matter the cost.
Because one thing was certain: this was a do-or-die affair. Gabriel belonged to me, and I wasn’t letting him go.