บททั้งหมดของ The Waiting Lady's Affair.: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

Alexander remained seated in his chair, taking his time to observe every curve and dip of her body. He’d missed raking his hands all over her, sliding his tongue on her soft, creamy breasts. Her soft thighs he’d been between not enough times. He didn’t understand what he ever saw in Isabel. But, despite all these thoughts swirling around in his head, his expression remained blank. He took a slow sip of his drink, taking his eyes off her, seemingly uninterested in the beautiful woman before him. This made Lila nervous. She could never understand him even though she said she did. He didn’t even seem interested as she in her. Did he even like her? She felt extremely foolish. She had come to his office hoping to get his attention , but it was slowly becoming clear that he didn’t see her as anything. Why else would he have sex with Isabel before he had sex with her, and even in front of her. She clenched her fists in anger, and emotion she had been feeling whenever Alexander was invo

Lila’s fingers curled tightly around the tulips in her hand, their delicate petals now crushed by the force of her grip. Her face was contorted in a frown as she walked behind Mrs. Harrington, who was barking orders at a poor man standing on a ladder, adjusting the curtains. It wasn’t the curtains that irritated Lila—it was everything else.She had woken up with that same frustrating, empty feeling from the night before. The night that had started with so much potential but ended in disappointment. Lila had nearly gotten what she wanted with Alexander, almost… but once again, it had slipped through her fingers. It was becoming a familiar pattern, and the anger inside her had reached its boiling point.Mrs. Harrington’s voice broke through her thoughts as she snapped, "Move them further to the right. To the right, you idiot!"Lila nearly rolled her eyes. "It’s a dinner party, not a fashion show, why does it matter?" she muttered under her breath, her gaze falling on the curtains that w

Mr. Paul followed Lila into a room that looked untouched. The room was dark, save for the moonlight that filtered in through the open balcony doors.He paused for a moment, taking in the scene. The air was cool, carrying a faint trace of garden jasmine from outside. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, finding Lila standing on the balcony, her silhouette framed by the night. The moonlight lay softly on her skin, making her appear almost ethereal. She had captured his attention the moment he saw her at the party, and he had been waiting for a chance to be alone with her.Her dress billowed slightly around her thighs as the breeze danced through the balcony. It was a delicate tease, revealing glimpses of her legs that stirred something primal in him. She turned around, resting her back against the railing as she watched him approach. Her gaze was steady, almost challenging, as though she knew the effect she had on him."You are beautiful," he said softly, stepping closer. He moved wit

The morning light crept into the room, dragging with it a dull ache that woke Lila before she was ready. She lay on the bed, her body heavy with pain. Her skin burned where Alexander’s belt had landed, and her throat ached from where his hand had been. "I love you." The words rang louder than the pain, filling every space in her head. She blinked away tears and sat up, wincing as the motion sent a sting down her back. But there was no time to feel sorry for herself. Mrs. Harrington would need her, and Lila couldn’t afford to give her a reason to yell. Lila’s movements were slow as she worked in the dining room. Every time she bent or reached, the bruises made her flinch. Her hands shook slightly as she poured tea into a cup. “What is wrong with you this morning?” Mrs. Harrington’s voice snapped across the room. “You’re slower than a sick dog.” “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Lila muttered, focusing on steadying the cup. “Sorry doesn’t get the job done, does it?” Mrs. Harrington’s sharp e

Lila stood on the living room balcony, her fingers gripping the silk robe tightly around her body. The cool night air whipped against her skin, making the material swirl around her like a wave. She could feel the weight of her thoughts pressing against her chest, but it was the unease, the fear that gnawed at her the most. She had been feeling it for days now. The confidence she had built up when Isabel was here had vanished into thin air, leaving only the remnants of dread. She couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen when Alexander came for her tonight. The last punishment still haunted her—her wounds, still fresh and painful, reminded her every moment of how far he could go. The possessiveness that clung to him had become like a shadow, following her everywhere. It wasn’t just his eyes, the way they pierced through her like a blade; it was everything about him that made her feel small, controlled. But it wasn’t her fault. She never asked for Reagan to approach her like tha