Chapter 1 Anniversary Night

"Asher... not on the dining table..." Eleanor's face flushed crimson as she pushed at his shoulder, her voice already softening into a moan.

Asher let out a low chuckle. His large hand cupped the back of her head, sealing her lips with a kiss that was gentle and dominating at once, swallowing every protest.

"Perfect time for the last dessert course." He loosened his tie, his heated breath washing over her neck. "I've been holding back all evening. Who told you to wear this dress, Eleanor?"

He lifted her onto the table and pushed the black dress up to her waist.

It was eight o'clock on a Friday evening, their eighth wedding anniversary. Eleanor had spent the whole afternoon on the candlelit dinner, and in eight years of marriage this was the first time they had ever done this outside the bedroom.

"What if Emma comes home..." she whispered, but her voice had already gone soft.

Emma was Asher's daughter with his ex-girlfriend Regina, but Eleanor had raised her from infancy and loved her as her own.

"Mrs. Henderson took her to my parents' for dinner. They won't be back before eleven." His hands slid up and eased the dress off her shoulders.

He caressed her chest, his thumb kneading her nipple until it hardened, and Eleanor arched off the table, a moan slipping out of her before she could stop it.

Her upper body lay flat across the table like a dessert waiting to be served. Her breast brushed the anniversary cake beside her and came away streaked with thick cream.

Asher's eyes darkened. He leaned down and took the cream-covered nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling and sucking her clean, and every lick sent a tremor straight down through her body. "This course," he said hoarsely, "I'm very satisfied with."

His fingers moved down between her legs and pressed against her clit, teasing lightly, drawing out a mess of wetness. "Eight years of marriage," he said, watching her burning face, "and you still get wet this easily."

"Asher... please..." Her voice shook with shame.

"Please what?" He stopped moving entirely, just to watch her.

"Please... fuck me..." She wanted to find a hole to crawl into, but her body wanted him more.

He tore her panties off and thrust into her in one stroke. Eleanor cried out as the fullness surged through her, and he began to move, slow and deep at first, each stroke reaching the deepest part of her, her hands gripping the edge of the table, her breasts swaying with every push.

Then he lifted her without pulling out and carried her toward the stairs. "Bedroom," he said. Eleanor cried out and locked her legs around his waist. Every step drove him deeper, and by the time they reached the top she was already breaking apart, her body clenching around him in spasms, liquid running down her thighs.

"Asher, I'm coming... I can't take it..."

"I'm not there yet." He laughed softly against her ear and had no intention of letting her go.

On the bed he turned her over and took her from behind, his hands locked on her hips, driving into her until she was screaming into the sheets. She came again, and again, until she felt herself melting into the mattress. In the last fierce sprint he spilled deep inside her with a low roar, and Eleanor went limp, drowsy and shameless and satisfied.

"Your stamina still hasn't improved, baby." Asher kissed her forehead.

"That's because you were... too much," she muttered, red to her ears.

He laughed and carried her into the bathroom, and in the huge tub the warm water rose around them while he washed her carefully, his hands gentle.

Eleanor leaned back against his chest, and for a moment her heart was so full it ached.

Asher Grayson was the founder and CEO of the largest tech company in Silicon Valley, the man the financial press called the most handsome and the coldest billionaire in the country. To the rest of the world he was ice. To her, for eight years, he had been nothing but good. In moments like this, Eleanor felt almost painfully happy to be his wife.

"Zoning out at a time like this?" His voice dropped, his gaze deepening. "What are you thinking about?"

"Asher... don't... I was wrong..." she said, laughing, pushing weakly at his chest.

His eyes had already darkened again when the phone on the washstand began to vibrate.

Eleanor glanced at the screen and her smile froze. A message from Regina.

Her heart dropped.

Regina was Asher’s first love and Emma’s biological mother.

Eight years ago, when Asher was still nobody, no money, nothing but a start-up that had never earned a dollar - Regina ran off with a wealthy heir and followed him to Europe, where she studied art. She left their three-week-old baby behind and never came back for either of them.

In all the years since, Asher had never once said her name in this house. Eleanor had let herself believe that meant he had let it go.

Then, half a month ago, Regina came back.

She had seen the photographs. Two weeks of them, in every business column that mattered — Asher and Regina at a gallery, at a dinner, walking out of the same building.

"Regina," she said, keeping her voice light. "Have you been seeing a lot of her lately?"

Asher turned the screen face-down, unhurried. "She has a show to put together. It's tied to the campaign for our new launch, so we've been in contact more than usual."

Eleanor said nothing. Asher had been very busy with work since Regina returned. Eleanor hadn't seen Asher for nearly half a month.

Just then, the phone rang again. This time Regina was calling.

Frowning slightly, Asher answered the call.

From the other end came the noisy din of a bar and Regina's petulant, slightly slurred voice. "Asher... I've had too much to drink, my card won't go through, and my phone is about to die. Come pick me up. I don't want to deal with any of this myself."

Asher’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone.

His expression darkened instantly, and his voice went cold. "Regina, I’ve told you many times: I am married. My wife is Eleanor."

"So what if you're married?" Regina gave a soft laugh, as if he had said something naive. "I was supposed to be the bride at that wedding years ago. If I hadn't left, how could that working-class girl have ever climbed into your bed?"

Her words completely enraged Asher. Throughout their eight years of marriage, the Asher Eleanor knew had always been calm and rational. This was the first time she saw him lose control.

"But did you actually come back then?!" Asher shouted into the phone.

There was instant silence on the other end of the line.

"Then don't come!" Regina snapped. "Leave me here, then. A drunk woman with no card and no phone, out on the street in the middle of the night. That's fine."

Regina hung up before he could answer.

A deathly silence descended upon the bathroom. Asher's chest heaved violently,He leaned against the vanity in agitation, both hands braced on the marble as he struggled to suppress the turmoil in his eyes.

Finally, as if resigned to his fate, he quickly picked up his phone and typed out a curt message: [Send me your location.]