Chapter 206

Chapter 206
Clara: POV

I woke to a delicious ache spreading through my body—a souvenir from last night's passion.

Sunlight streamed through the half-drawn curtains, painting Andrei's bedroom in a warm glow.

My head rested on his bare chest, rising and falling with each steady breath as he slept.

I couldn't help but smile as I watched him.

His face, usually set in stern concentration or camera-ready charm, looked peaceful in sleep—almost vulnerable.

In all my years working as Andrei Wilson's PR manager, I'd never known him to share his bed with anyone overnight.

He valued his privacy fiercely, building walls around his personal space that nobody breached.

Yet here I was, lying in his arms after a night that had left me sore in places I'd never felt before.

The thought sent a thrill through me, quickly followed by a sobering reality check.

This might have been special to me—a memory I would cherish forever—but to Andrei, it was likely just another carefully controlled moment in his life. A brief interlude with his contract wife, nothing more.

I sighed softly, fighting the urge to press a good morning kiss to his lips.

He was still Andrei Wilson, A-list actor, temporary husband, and ultimately unattainable.

I couldn't afford to forget that, no matter how intimate last night had been.

The shrill ring of a phone shattered the morning quiet.

Andrei's phone vibrated insistently on the nightstand, but he didn't stir.

I carefully sat up, trying not to disturb him as I slipped from under his arm.

The movement sent sharp twinges through my thighs and between my legs, making me wince.

His phone continued ringing, the screen lighting up with a name that sent an immediate stab of reality through my chest: Maya.

The jewelry designer he'd been pursuing.

I bit my lip, torn between answering it for him or letting it ring.

But it wasn't my place to intercept his calls or silence them.

Our contract didn't give me any right to interfere in his personal life. After all, I wasn't his real wife.

The phone eventually stopped ringing as I sat on the edge of the bed.

Memories of the previous night flooded back: how many times we'd made love before losing count.

How he'd been so possessive, unwilling to stop or pull out of me.

How he'd given me orgasms I'd never experienced before.

How he'd pumped his hot seed inside me so many times I could still feel the stickiness on my inner thighs and the wetness between my legs, my core still throbbing as if his massive cock was still inside me.

I bit my lip harder and looked away from Andrei's body, my gaze falling on my designer dress crumpled on the floor, torn to shreds.

Heat rushed to my face at the memory, a mix of embarrassment and disbelief.

I slipped off the bed quietly, but as soon as my feet touched the floor, my wobbly legs nearly gave out.

I let out a small whimper. The soreness between my thighs was an undeniable reminder of last night's passion. He was big—no, huge—and my face burned again as I forced myself to focus.

I gathered my torn dress from the floor, wincing with every step as I tiptoed out of the bedroom and stumbled toward the living room where I'd been staying during this trip.

Once there, I pulled out a pair of jean shorts and a white top from my suitcase.

According to our original plan, we were supposed to check out today since Andrei had a film shoot tonight.

Each step was a challenge, my sore muscles protesting the movement.

I grimaced, cursing under my breath and blaming Andrei entirely for my current state. No wonder he was so popular with women, with those bedroom skills of his.

Andrei: POV

The persistent ringing of my phone finally became too much to ignore. Half-asleep and annoyed, I considered throwing the damn thing against the wall to silence it for good.

I groaned, frowning as I reluctantly reached for the phone. When I saw the name on the screen—Maya—my irritation shifted. I cleared my throat, answering with a sleep-roughened voice.

"Good morning, Maya."

"Andrei, are you alright? You left without telling anyone and didn't answer my calls. I was worried." Her voice carried a note of urgent concern.

Fuck. In my frustration at seeing Clara with her boyfriend, I'd completely forgotten about Maya's wedding reaffirmation ceremony.

I'd left her without any explanation. Nothing had seemed more important than Clara at that moment—a realization that surprised me. I rubbed my forehead in frustration.

"Maya, Clara and I were just too tired, so we headed back to our room early. I didn't notice your calls; my phone was on silent." I hoped she would buy the excuse.

"Oh, alright then. Take care of yourself and let me know if you need anything," she replied.

"Thank you, Maya. Are you going on a honeymoon?"

Mia blushed slightly, "Yes, we're on our way to the airport. Emily and Matteo are going to Ireland for their honeymoon, and Alessandro and I are going to Switzerland. The kids are coming with us."

I chuckled, shaking my head, thinking to myself, 'Only Mia would bring kids on a honeymoon.'

"Have fun, alright?!" I said.

We exchanged goodbyes, and I ended the call, scanning the room for Clara. She wasn't there.

I got up, pulling on my underwear from the floor. I checked the main bathroom in the suite, but she wasn't there either.

Confused, I stood with my hands on my hips in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what was happening.

After a moment's thought, I rushed out of the bedroom into the living area of the suite. There I found Clara just coming out of the guest bathroom, her hair slightly damp.

She seemed startled to see me in just my underwear but quickly composed herself, offering me a gentle smile.

"Good morning. Aren't you ready yet?" She asked, not meeting my eyes as she grabbed her comb and makeup bag.

"We have to check out on time. I've confirmed with the pilot that your private jet is ready. So hurry up if you don't want to miss your shoot in Guadalajara tonight." With that, she turned and went back into the bathroom.

I stood frozen, confused and uncertain about my wife's attitude this morning. Last night had seemed fine—more than fine.

I lingered in the living area, waiting for Clara to emerge from the bathroom, but she didn't.

My nostrils flared as frustration built inside me.

I wanted to burst into that bathroom and demand an explanation for her sudden coldness, ask her what the hell had changed since last night.

But I held myself back, fighting to control my anger. I didn't want to scare her away with my intensity and intimidating behavior.