Chapter One

Marie's POV

"Fuck!!!" Mark moaned as he lost the remaining bit of his strength inside of me.

I lay still beneath him, our bodies still joined, his chest heaving against mine as he buried his face in my neck. His breath came in warm, ragged bursts, and I ran my fingers through his damp hair, trying to steady my own breathing.

It was good - the sex. Mark always made sure I was taken care of, always attentive to what I needed. But as he shifted and kissed my collarbone softly, I felt that familiar ache of something missing. A spark. A fire that I was yet to find with him. God, I hated myself for even thinking it.

"I love you, Marie," he murmured against my skin in a low and sincere tone. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at me with those warm brown eyes that always made me feel safe. "You know that, right? Every day, I wake up grateful you're in my life."

I smiled up at him, cupping his face with my hands. "I love you too, Mark. You make everything feel… right." The words were true. I did love him.

He was kind, successful, and the kind of man who remembered anniversaries and asked about my day without checking his phone. Even when we had only been together for a year. He was safe. Not like the ghost I have tried so hard to forget.

He chuckled softly and rolled off me, pulling me into his side. His arm wrapped around my waist, possessive but gentle. "Good. Because tonight's that high-end charity gala at the Meridian. I need my beautiful date on my arm. After all, you did help make this a reality. We'll network a bit, maybe sneak in a dance or two. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," I said, tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Who's going to be there? Anyone I should brace myself for?"

"The usual crowd. Tech moguls, a few politicians, old money types. I hear Forrester Industries is sponsoring one of the tables, but I doubt we'll run into anyone too dramatic."

I furrowed my brows at the mention of Forrester. Could it be...?

Mark kissed my forehead just then, dispelling my thoughts. "You'll outshine everyone there. Give me twenty minutes to shower, then we can get ready together?"

I nodded, watching him slip out of bed and head to the bathroom, his broad shoulders flexing with each step. Once the door clicked shut, I let out a slow breath and stared at the ceiling. Mark was everything I'd told myself I wanted after the chaos of two years ago. He didn't play games, did everything I wanted. So why, why did my body still feel like it was waiting for something more?

We got ready side by side, the conversation flowing easily.

"Pass me that tie, love?" he asked as he buttoned his white shirt.

I handed it over, and he caught my hand, pulling me close for a quick kiss.

"Have I told you how stunning you look in that dress? Black suits you, makes your eyes pop."

"You have, about three times already," I teased, adjusting his collar. "But keep saying it. A girl could get used to it."

He grinned, that boyish charm lighting up his face. "Get used to it, then. I plan on saying it for a long time." We talked about his latest deal as I zipped up my gown. His start-up company had come a long way since we got together. He also filled me in on the gala's cause, some children's hospital wing they were renovating. Mark was always involved in things like that. Genuine about it, too, and it was one of the things I loved about it.

We got into the car soon after, and it wasn't long before we were driving through the city's traffic.

"We deserve a break after this week," He started as his hand found its way to my lap, squeezing gently. "We've both been occupied with work, I don't even remember the last time we spent this much time together."

"That sounds amazing," I replied, leaning into him. But as his thumb brushed my skin in slow circles, my mind betrayed me. Suddenly, I wasn't in the car anymore. I was back in that luxury hotel suite on an island two years ago.

Andrea's dark head between my thighs, his tongue working me with relentless skill, hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks. "Scream for me, wife," he'd growled, and I had. Loud, raw, shattering as waves of pleasure ripped through me, my fingers tangled in his hair, body arching off the bed. God, the way he'd made me come undone…

I blinked hard, heat flooding my cheeks. Mark was still talking, completely oblivious. Get yourself together, I screamed at myself. This was no time to be daydreaming, especially not about another man.

***

The gala was already buzzing when we arrived. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, soft jazz floated through the air, and elegantly dressed guests mingled with champagne flutes in hand. Mark kept a protective arm around my waist as we made our way through the crowd, introducing me to colleagues and donors with easy confidence.

"Marie, this is Elena Vasquez from the hospital board," he said smoothly. "Elena, my girlfriend Marie Anderson. She's been a huge help with the foundation proposals."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said, shaking her hand. We chatted briefly about the cause, Mark adding thoughtful insights that made Elena nod approvingly. He was good at this, attentive to everyone, never talking over me. A few minutes later, we moved towards the bar to get a drink he leaned in. "You okay? You seem a little quiet."

"I'm fine, I'm just taking it all in," I assured him, squeezing his arm. "Proud to be here with you."

We got drinks, then stepped out onto a quiet balcony for a moment to catch our breath from the crowd. Mark pulled me close, tilting my chin up.

"Come here," he whispered. His kiss was heated but controlled, tongue teasing just enough to promise more later. His hand cupped the back of my neck gently, and I kissed him back, melting into the familiarity. It was good, really good. But there was no wild rush, no desperate need clawing at my insides, just warmth.

"You make me so happy," he murmured against my lips before pulling back. "Let's go dance before they drag me into more shop talk."

I laughed softly, linking my arm with his as we headed back inside. "Lead the way, Mr. CEO."

The evening peaked with the live auction, bids flying for luxury vacations and art pieces. Mark bid on a weekend getaway, winning it to scattered applause. I cheered him on, genuinely thrilled, but as the crowd shifted, something, or rather someone, caught my eye across the room.

My stomach dropped.

Andrea Forrester.

It was like my imagination from earlier had morphed into reality.

He stood taller than I remembered, broader, dressed in a tailored black tux that screamed power and money. His dark hair was perfectly styled, jaw sharp, eyes like midnight. More dangerously magnetic than ever. Our gazes locked, and the air thickened, the chatter around me fading to a dull hum. He didn't smile. Didn't wave.

And I almost thought he wasn't there and I was seeing things no one else was.

Until he just started walking toward me, cutting through the crowd like a predator who'd finally cornered his prey.

"Marie?" Mark's voice pulled at me, but I couldn't look away. Andrea kept coming, ignoring everyone else.

I was stunned, completely dazed. My mouth went dry, memories crashing in faster than I could push them back. The fake marriage, that one month. The nights that had ruined me for anyone else. No. Not here. Not now. I screamed at myself but I was too late.

He stopped just in front of us, his presence sucking all the oxygen from the space between me and Mark. Without hesitation, Andrea reached out and stole my hand from Mark's grip. His fingers were warm, firm and electric. A broad smile spread across his face, the kind that I had never seen throughout our one month of marriage.

"Miss me, wife?"