Flavia smiled proudly as she watched Gael sleeping beside her. “He finally accepted me,” she whispered, her voice thick with pride. When Gael stirred, she leaned in to kiss him, but the moment his eyes snapped open, he jerked away as if burned. “Good morning, baby,” Flavia said, batting her eyelashes in a practised show of affection. Gael only knitted his brows, his expression hardening. “You weren't so cold last night,” she whispered sultrily, trailing a finger down his arm. “Claiming me again and again... my body is aching, but I’m still ready for another round.” Gael stood up abruptly and began to dress with clinical speed. “Flavia, nothing has changed between us,” he said firmly, not looking at her. “Our marriage is a political alliance, nothing more. Last night was a necessity to conceive an heir. Do not confuse a biological obligation for love. I do not love you, and I never will.” Flavi
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