Lahat ng Kabanata ng I AGREED TO MY HUSBAND'S OPEN MARRIAGE RULES: Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

Matt's POVThe fact that she did it. She actually fucking married him. The text from my guy at the courthouse sits on my phone screen, a digital slap. Michael Sotheby & Stacy Reed. Marriage registered.My hand clenches so hard the plastic case creaks. The rage is a living thing, boiling my blood, tightening my chest. She did it to piss me off. To spit in my face. That's the only reason. That rich bastard can't actually want her. Not my Stacy. Not after everything.My phone buzzes again, snapping me from the red haze. A different number. I answer, my voice a growl. "What?""Mr. Reed." The voice is smooth, cultured, older. My... benefactor. The man paying for my stay, my new suit, my revenge. "I trust you've seen the news.""I've seen it." I pace the cheap hotel room, the carpet rough under my shoes. "She's a stupid bitch. He's playing her.""Perhaps. But his focus is now divided. Between his new... wife... and his business. The deal he's here to close with the Asian consortium is vulne

Michael's POV The silence in the villa was wrong. It was too deep, too empty. The clock on my study wall ticked past seven, then eight. No call. No text. I'd gone to her corporate office at six, expecting to find her buried in paperwork. The office was dark, the door locked. A cold knot started to form in my gut.Where is she?I paced the study, the expensive Persian rug doing nothing to calm the storm building inside me. I'd given her space today. After the wedding, after the certificate became a shield. I'd let her go to the bakery to pretend things were normal. But this... this was crossing a line. She should have been home. Millie was asking for her.By nine, the worry had sharpened into a blade of pure, hot anger. The front door finally clicked open. I was in the entrance hall before she could take two steps inside.Her hair was messy, a strand stuck to her cheek. Her eyes, those deep, expressive eyes, were shadowed and distant. She looked through me."Where were you?" My voice

Stacy's POVThe morning felt wrong from the moment I opened my eyes. The space beside me in the bed was cold, the sheets smooth. Michael hadn't come to bed. The silence in the villa was heavy, waiting. He always met me in the morning, a quiet, solid presence over coffee before the day began.He wasn't there.A knot of discomfort tightened in my stomach as I got Millie ready for school. The usual routine felt hollow. Dropping her off, her cheerful "Bye, Mommy!" did little to settle the unease twisting inside me. I drove to the corporate office, my hands tight on the wheel, half-expecting to see Michael's car in its reserved spot.It was empty.The office air felt different. Stale. My assistant, Marcus, was at his desk, his usually sharp features drawn into a mask of professional concern. He stood up as I approached."Mrs. Sotheby. We need to talk.""About what?" I asked, slipping off my light jacket.He followed me into my office, closing the door softly behind him. "It's about our par

Stacy's POVI didn’t pull away. I couldn’t. His kiss was a fire, and I was bone-dry tinder. I leaned into it, my hands fisting his shirt tighter, pulling him closer until there was no space between us. I love this. The thought was a guilty, secret thrill I could hardly admit, even to myself. His tongue swept into my mouth, hot and demanding, and I met it with my own, a frantic, hungry dance.It was getting hotter, messier. The taste of him—whiskey and anger and Michael—was all I could breathe. His hands were everywhere, sliding from my back to my hips, gripping hard enough to leave marks. He lifted me fully onto the desk, his body pressing between my thighs. The hard ridge of his cock rubbed against me through our clothes, a maddening pressure that made me gasp into his mouth.We were kissing so hard we were blind to everything else. His arm swept across the desk surface, sending a leather-bound planner, a crystal paperweight, a stack of files crashing to the floor. The thuds were dis

Stacy's POVThe cheap hotel room door clicked shut, sealing me inside with him. The air was thick with stale smoke and the cheap flowery cleaner they used to cover it up. My heart pounded against my ribs, like a trapped bird. This is a trap. You know it's a trap. But I was here. Because Michael was watching. Because this time, I wasn't alone.Matt stood by the small table, a fake, concerned smile on his face. It didn't reach his eyes. Those were cold, calculating. "I'm glad you came, Stacy.""Just talk." I stayed near the door, my arms tight across my chest. I could feel the small microphone taped just below my collar, a faint, reassuring pressure. Michael's voice was in my ear, a whisper from the tiny earpiece. "I'm here. I see the feed. Breathe.""First, a drink." Matt gestured to two water bottles on the table. "You look stressed. It's just water."My eyes went straight to them. A cold dread, familiar and sharp, sliced through my gut. He's done this before. The memory hit me like a