Who Is His True Love

I was quite surprised, to be honest. Brenda Waters had come back earlier than expected.

I was wearing a face mask and soaking in a milk bath when I saw a post from one of Ivan Sanders' friends on social media.

In the photo, Ivan stood close to a graceful woman. I could tell from the look in their eyes that they were both overjoyed.

I had only gotten to marry him because Brenda had left in the first place. Even though I had known from the start that our marriage would not last, I had gone into it without hesitation.

Ivan was rich, after all. Problems money could solve were much easier than matters of the heart.

For the past two years, our marriage had been all physical and no love. Still, being with him had its advantages and was quite enjoyable. He was well-endowed, great in bed, handsome, and quite generous with his money, too. Overall, he was a pretty good husband.

I had just stepped out of the tub when I heard a car screech to a stop outside.

Ivan was home, no doubt in a hurry to divorce me.

Ivan was good at everything, and apparently, that included cheating without disappointing either woman.

He loosened his tie, slipped his arms around my waist, and pressed a firm kiss to my shoulder. He then asked, "Milk?"

I was ticklish, so I instinctively leaned away.

The scent of another woman's perfume lingered on him. I cursed my overly sensitive nose. He had just come back from a date with another woman, yet here he was, trying to charm me. He really did have remarkable stamina.

"Why did you call?" He looked into me, his eyes filled with burning passion.

I quickly pulled my robe closed. Why would I call him for no reason? I had meant to call his secretary.

"I just missed my husband," I said sweetly, every word a lie.

"Ellena, you've never been a good liar." He looked at me with a faint smile.

He was right. For the past two years, I had asked Ivan directly for whatever I wanted. He gave me everything except love.

"I just wanted to know when the gown you promised me from Butterfly would arrive." His secretary had handled the order, so who else was I supposed to ask?

Ivan narrowed his eyes, looking at me thoughtfully. "Do you need it soon?"

Brenda was back, so...

I forced down the rest.

Forget it. I might as well be direct.

"When you've decided how you want to settle things between us, have your secretary call me," I said, leaning against his chest.

"What do you mean?" He frowned.

I blinked.

Love really did make men stupid. Where had all his usual intelligence gone? How could he miss something this obvious?

"I should pack." I was done playing along. He was so childish.

I turned to leave, but he caught my wrist and pulled me into his arms. Before I could react, his lips crashed against mine. His movements were far rougher than usual as he stripped away my clothes.

I knew he was angry, probably because I had seen through him.

Who would have guessed that a man who usually seemed to care so little could be such a hypocrite?

I turned my face away. Ivan had always been used to getting his way, and he couldn't stand losing, not even once. He seemed intent on teaching me a lesson.

When I woke the next morning, everything hurt, just as I had expected, and I could barely lift my arms.

I tried to slip out of bed, but a large hand pressed me back down.

"You're going to be late for work," I whispered. He simply pulled me into his arms and buried his face against my neck. The position felt almost intimate. So intimate it was laughable. Our relationship was limited to physical pleasure. Anything beyond that was a luxury I could not afford.

"I'm not going. I'm taking the day off." He did not even open his eyes as he said those words lazily.

So it really was because of Brenda.

He wouldn't even take a single day off for our wedding anniversary, yet now that Brenda was back after her divorce, he was already neglecting work to be with her.