Stella's POV
That afternoon, I called Sam to cancel our shopping plans, claiming I wasn't feeling well. It wasn't entirely a lie—I could barely walk.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Sam asked, her voice filled with concern. "You don't sound right."
"Just tired," I assured her. "I'll call you tomorrow."
After hanging up, I sat on the living room sofa, wincing as I tried to find a comfortable position. The events of last night replayed in my mind, bringing both embarrassment and a strange sense of satisfaction.
What was I thinking last night? Why did I provoke him like that? I berated myself. I could have been straightforward. After all, I'm his lawful wife—what's there to be embarrassed about? Why did I make things so complicated?
Recalling Adam's expression when I challenged his masculinity made me cringe. No wonder he was so... determined to prove me wrong.
Joseph appeared with a tea tray. "Mrs. Lancaster, shall I leave the afternoon tea here?"
"Yes, thank you." I carefully adjusted my position, trying not to wince too obviously.
Joseph's face remained professionally neutral, but I saw a hint of knowing amusement in his eyes. "Mr. Lancaster called. He mentioned he might be late tonight—an urgent business meeting."
"I see." I took the teacup, avoiding eye contact.
"He also inquired if you needed anything special for dinner. Perhaps... something easy to digest?"
The teacup nearly slipped from my hand. "A regular dinner will be fine, thank you."
After Joseph left, I buried my face in a decorative pillow. Even the butler knows! This was beyond embarrassing.
I thought of Adam—probably sitting in some corporate boardroom right now, completely composed and authoritative, while I could barely walk across the room. The unfairness of it made me chuckle bitterly into the pillow.
Next time, I promised myself, I'll make him beg.
A moment later, I realized what I was thinking. Next time? When had I started taking our ongoing intimacy for granted?
I sipped my tea slowly, watching the patterns of sunlight move across the expensive carpet. Perhaps it was time to admit, at least to myself, that I had fallen in love with Adam.
I am not sure when it began, but I started to care about his feelings, allowing him to enter my heart. Perhaps it was his unwavering support in times of need, or maybe I was simply captivated by his charm. I find myself increasingly entranced by him.
\---
Adam's POV
As I entered the main building, I immediately sensed a different atmosphere. It wasn't the usual quiet emptiness I felt when I came home from work.
There she was—Stella, asleep on the chaise lounge by the floor-to-ceiling windows. The evening sunlight cast a warm glow on her face, highlighting her delicate profile. A high-end design magazine lay loosely in her fingers, ready to slip to the floor at any moment. She had covered herself with a cashmere blanket, perhaps feeling cold again.
Seeing her there, peacefully asleep in my domain where I had always lived alone, made me pause. I found myself studying her features—the dark circles under her eyes, the slight furrow of her brows even in sleep, her long lashes casting tiny shadows on her cheeks.
The irritation caused by the online rumors linking her to Luke Morgan dissipated, replaced by an unfamiliar feeling in my chest.
Joseph appeared silently beside me. "Sir, the lady woke up around noon. After lunch, she briefly checked her phone and then fell asleep again."
I approached her, reaching out to gently ruffle her hair. "What's wrong? Lost your voice?"
"Sore throat," she replied hoarsely, her voice noticeably raspier than in the morning.
I frowned slightly. "Caught a cold?"
She gave me a cold look, clearly conveying, "Are you serious? After what you did to me last night?" Realization dawned, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction.
"Such a delicate flower," I commented, enjoying the flash of annoyance on her face.
Stella glared at me for a few seconds before dramatically turning away, wrapping the blanket tightly around herself. The gesture was childish, almost petulant, but somehow, I found it... endearing?
\---
In the dining room, I watched as the staff set out an exquisite meal—carefully selected American seafood dishes, both nutritious and delicious.
"Sir," one of the staff approached, "the lady says she's not feeling well and doesn't want to move. She wishes to dine on the sofa in the living room."
I nodded, dismissing him, and returned to the living room. Stella was asleep again, her breathing steady and slow.
*How can she sleep so much?* I wondered. *She barely moved all day, is she really that tired?* The thought that I had exhausted her brought a sense of male pride.
I reached out, gently patting her cheek. "Stella, wake up. Eat first, then you can sleep."
"Don't want to move," she mumbled without opening her eyes, her brows furrowing in displeasure.
I sighed. She was truly childlike. Without hesitation, I stood up from my wheelchair and scooped her into my arms. Her eyes widened in surprise, but her damaged throat could only produce a small gasp.
"Eat first, then sleep," I said simply, carrying her to the dining room.
She looked up at me, her face only inches from mine. I could see the confusion in her eyes.
Her weight in my arms felt... right. I found myself studying the curves of her face, the way her hair fell against my arm, how her body fit perfectly against my chest.
I carefully placed her in a chair, watching as she yawned again and listlessly picked up the ginseng chicken soup. The chef had specially prepared this nourishing soup.
As the meal progressed, I watched her gradually regain her energy. The hot soup brought color back to her cheeks.
"By the way," she began, her voice still hoarse but stronger than before, "someone's spreading rumors about me and Luke on social media. If you see him, could you apologize on my behalf?"
I put down my utensils, feeling a chill in my heart.
"I'd like to apologize in person," she continued, unaware of my changing mood, "but I don't want to disturb his work. He's probably busy saving lives."
"Are you and Luke close?" I asked, deliberately keeping my tone calm.
"Not really," Stella shook her head. "He's just a good person. I don't want to cause him trouble, especially after he helped my grandmother."
*Good person.* Hearing those words, something darkened within me. Luke Morgan had many qualities—intelligent, arrogant, occasionally useful—but hearing Stella praise him irritated me more than it should.
"Speaking of Dr. Morgan," she mused, tapping her chin, "does he have a girlfriend? I don't think I've ever heard of him dating anyone."
I deliberately set down my utensils. "Your throat doesn't hurt anymore?" My tone carried a clear note of displeasure.
"Gossip is human nature, you know?" Stella responded lightly, completely missing the warning in my voice.
I watched her continue to sip her soup, oblivious to how her innocent questions affected me. A sense of possessiveness flared within me. I didn't like this feeling. Not at all.
\---
The master bedroom was dimly lit by the city lights streaming through the windows. I watched Stella move around the room, freshly bathed and dressed in silk pajamas. Just as she was about to climb into bed, I grabbed her from behind, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.
"Mr. Lancaster!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise. She looked like a startled deer caught in headlights.
Hearing her formal address, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Even now, after everything we've been through, she still called me that when she was shocked or nervous.
"I'm—I'm tired!" she protested, looking up at me with wide eyes, her heart racing.
"You've slept all day, Mrs. Lancaster," I replied, deliberately lowering my voice to that tone I noticed made her pulse quicken. "It's time for some evening... activities."
With my free hand, I reached for the bedside drawer. I saw her eyes widen, probably thinking I was reaching for a condom. Instead, I pulled out the dark green tie—the one I had taken from Luke.
"What are you doing?" she asked, genuine shock in her voice.
When the silk touched her wrists, I saw the realization dawn in her eyes. Her sudden understanding, the slight hitch in her breath—watching her reaction brought me immense satisfaction.
I gently caressed her cheek with my fingers, savoring her response. "Binding you," I whispered in her ear. "Perfectly."
We tussled under the covers and then out of them, and in the end, I didn't let Stella escape, catching her by the ankle.
I massaged her ankle, giving it a gentle tug, pulling her back into my embrace.
"Rogue! Let go of me!" she protested, but it was to no avail.