Chapter 17
The evening unfolded like a dream, with Mrs. Rose showcasing her culinary prowess. The table was set with an array of starters, each dish a testament to her skill. The main course was a symphony of flavors, and Colette’s favorite—Chocolate Lava Cake—was the grand finale. The room was alive with the rich aroma of fine food and the soft clinking of silverware, yet the true heat of the night came from Matt’s smoldering glances. His eyes never strayed far from her, their intensity a reminder of the passion that had once burned brightly between them.
“Now, would you like to have coffee in the drawing room or shall we retire to the bedroom already?” Matt’s voice was a sultry murmur, his gaze heavy with intent. The directness of his seduction was almost overwhelming, and Colette couldn’t help but giggle, the sound a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.
“Drawing room, please,” she replied, her voice light despite the flutter in her chest.
Matt sighed dramatically, as though her request was a great sacrifice. “Mrs. Rose, coffee in the drawing room, please,” he commanded, his tone tinged with playful exasperation. Mrs. Rose, ever the observant one, offered a knowing smile before she departed for the night, leaving the couple alone.
The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as Colette attempted to savor the delicate flavors of her coffee. Yet, she knew the evening’s easygoing mood was about to shift. “Your mother called me yesterday,” she began cautiously. “She wants you to attend Danny’s eleventh birthday party.”
The effect of her words was immediate. Matt’s expression, which had been a mixture of flirtation and warmth, turned cold. His smile vanished, replaced by a grim mask of suppressed anger. The change was palpable, his mood darkening with each passing second.
“Matt, you should go,” Colette continued, her voice gentle yet firm. “Evie, Archie, all your siblings will be there too…”
Matt’s eyes narrowed, his focus seemingly drifting away from her words. It was as if he was bracing himself for a battle he had no intention of fighting.
“I don’t want you to talk to my mo— to—Roxy,” Matt snapped, his voice harsh and cutting through the silence. “If she has something to say to me, then she could very well call me and say it to my face. I’ll let her know what I think of her invitation.”
The bitterness in his voice was like acid, searing through the fragile peace of their evening. He set his mug down with a force that made the porcelain clink harshly, turning away from it as if it had betrayed him. “Matt, please…”
His eyes, darkened by a mixture of pain and anger, locked onto hers. “My mother is back after leaving us all like we didn’t matter to her one bit. And now she’s trying to win the Mother Teresa title of the century.” His voice was sharp, each word laden with years of unresolved hurt. “Evie, Archie, and Damion are all adults now, or at least old enough to make their own choices. If they want Roxy in their lives, that’s their decision. I want nothing to do with her. So, I won’t!”
For what felt like an eternity, silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive. The air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Colette’s heart pounded as she stood up, her decision made. “I think I should return to Zoe’s,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No! Colette, wait!” Matt’s voice cut through the silence, a desperate edge to it. He moved swiftly, grabbing her by the wrists and pulling her down onto his lap with a sudden, forceful motion. Their faces were inches apart, his breath warm against her skin. The proximity sent a jolt of electric tension between them, and their eyes locked in an intense, searching gaze.
“I waited all week to get you here,” he murmured, his voice breaking with vulnerability. “You can’t leave me like this!” His plea was almost childlike, his face contorted with a mixture of frustration and longing. “In fact, I would have dragged you up here on Tuesday after I saw you at the restaurant. I had all the kidnapping equipment ready by evening.” He chuckled bitterly, “Except Iris suggested I give you some space, that you might be feeling claustrophobic in our relationship. So, I let you be.”
Matt’s confession came out in a rush, his words tangled with his emotions. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and uneven against her skin. His hands, still gripping her arms, pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that was both intimate and charged.
“God, but did I miss you!” His voice was a husky whisper, filled with a deep, aching need. He placed a tender kiss on her neck, his lips lingering as if trying to savor the very essence of her. “I missed everything about you, my sweet darling…” Another kiss followed, more insistent this time, his lips grazing her skin with a soft, yet urgent pressure.
“I missed your sweet smell in our bed,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “That was missing every day I woke up.” Another kiss, this time his lips trailing down her neck, his touch both gentle and fervent. “I missed you blabbering about Mrs. Rose, the garden, or something you read in a magazine during our breakfasts, while I practically ignored you for the newspaper.” He laughed softly, a sound that was both joyous and sorrowful.
His hands, now gently cradling her face, tilted it upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I promise never to take you for granted again,” he said with a fierce intensity, his eyes locked onto hers. “I promise to hang on to every word you say from now on. I swear.” His tone was solemn, but the undercurrent of longing and desire was palpable, his words a solemn vow that seemed to promise not just reconciliation, but a rekindling of the passionate connection they once shared.
Matt's words flowed over Colette like a distant, unrecognizable echo. He poured out his heart, his confessions and promises heavy with the weight of his yearning. Yet, her mind was somewhere else entirely—consumed by a storm of shock and horror that drowned out his voice.
As he spoke, the truth sank in with a painful clarity: he hadn’t come to find her and take her back home because iris had told him not to! No, he had been guided by Iris’s insistence, the very woman who had seized the throne in his heart and mind. It was as if Iris had cast a shadow so long and so dark that it eclipsed everything else, including their broken marriage. The realization was a jagged shard piercing through her chest, each word he said a reminder of the pedestal he had placed Iris on.
Matt’s fervent declarations of missed moments and promises of change seemed to dissolve into the air, leaving Colette in a hollow, desolate place of betrayal. He had let Iris wield such power that she controlled not just his actions but the very fabric of his life. Every aspect of their shared existence was now manipulated by her influence, from mundane decisions to the most intimate of personal choices. Even his marital life.