OSUKATEÏ, l'Arbre-Mère: Le seigneur de la branche livre 1

Elena's POV

For the first time in months, I felt alive. Tonight was supposed to be a rare escape, a single evening where I was allowed to step outside the cage of my wifely duties. Arthur had business calls that couldn't be postponed—or so he said. After asking him three times to join me at the gala, mostly out of a desperate, pathetic need to feel like a real couple for once, he turned me down with his usual cold efficiency.

"Take the card, have fun with the girls. If you need anything, call me," he had said, his eyes never once leaving the screen of his phone. He tapped a quick kiss onto my cheek and walked out of the foyer, his mind already back on his stocks.

So I did. I took the driver, held onto his black card, and went out ready to burn the night down, with or without my husband.

When the gala wound down, the crowd shifted to an underground club in the city for the after-party. I walked in wearing the hyper-expensive gown Arthur had bought me for my last birthday—a purchase made by his assistant, no doubt. Looking over the top of my glasses, I caught sight of my friends waving wildly from a booth across the room.

By midnight, I was three whiskies deep. My friends had migrated toward the VIP tables to mingle with the city's elite, but I stayed behind on the dance floor. I threw my head back, hands tangled in my hair, and let every rigid expectation of what a perfect wife should be drop away into the night. I was completely drenched in the music, moving without caring who was watching.

The club was dark, but as I turned, squinting through the lights, I caught sight of him. He was standing near the edge of the bar, a glass of whisky resting in his hand. He wasn't watching the room. He was looking directly at me.

My eyes dragged over him before I could stop myself. He was tall, dressed in a sharp suit that practically screamed danger, his dark jawline locked in confidence. He didn't wait for an invitation. He moved through the crowd with effortless precision, stepping directly into my personal space. When his hand landed on my waist, a sudden warmth flushed through me. The rest of the room seemed to fade around us.

Before I could draw a fresh breath, he pulled me flush against his chest, his breath brushing hot against my cheek.

"You're dancing like you own the night," he murmured, his voice low against my ear.

"Maybe I do," I whispered back, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

He didn't ask for my name, and he didn't offer his. He simply leaned down and captured my mouth. The kiss was firm, slow, and completely intoxicating, burning away every lingering thought of my real life. I surrendered to it instantly, my hands reaching up to grip the back of his neck, my fingers tangling in his thick hair as I pulled him closer.

He turned me around and led me past a narrow side door into one of the private rooms.

The door shut behind us, locking out the noise of the club. The room was dark. He pushed me back onto the sofa. Without a word, he dropped to his knees in front of me, sliding his hands up the slit of my dress. I could feel the heat of his body pressed against mine.

When he buried his face between my thighs, taking in every bit of my arousal, my breath hitched and my fingers dug into the edge of the small table beside the sofa. I gave up trying to control anything at all. My eyes rolled back, taking in every object in my sight line as I moaned louder. He didn't stop feeding on my clit. His hands locked around my throat as my toes curled into the air, and heat surged through every nerve. I couldn't help but scream as my release spilled over his face.

My nipples pointed hard through my dress, rising and falling with my frantic breaths. His pupils dilated, his gaze dragging up and down my trembling body. Before stripping me completely naked, he paused, watching intently as my own hands slowly rotated over my nipples. I was starving for his touch, my breath shuddering in the room.

Reaching out with a shaking hand, I gripped his jeans, feeling the outline of his dick.

"Just fuck me," I pleaded desperately, my voice raw.

He dropped his mouth back to my chest, swirling his tongue around my sensitive nipple while his fingers slid down, tracing the core of my heat until I was completely undone.

The rest of the night was a blur.

I woke up sick to my stomach, pulling the sheets on the bed close to my chest. My head was pounding, and my stomach turned over the second I sat up. I held my forehead with both hands, waiting for the room to stop spinning. I looked around the room for him, but he was gone.

My dress was wrinkled around my hips, and my hair was a complete mess. My diamond necklace sat on the side table where he’d left it hours before.

I forced myself up, rubbed my eyes, and gathered my things. I checked my phone—dozens of missed notifications, but nothing from my friends. They’d clearly assumed I took an Uber home when I vanished.

I didn't look for him. I didn't ask the staff at the door who had booked the room. Reality crashed back over me: last night was a massive mistake.

I grabbed my clutch, strapped on my heels, and left through the back exit into the parking lot. It was something I couldn't afford to think about.

When I walked through the front door of the house, the smell of fresh coffee hit me from the kitchen. Arthur was sitting in his favorite chair in his robe, reading the news on his tablet.

He looked up as I stepped inside, taking in my disheveled look. "Did you have fun?"