Chapter 21

-Alison-

I arrived home before Warren, anticipating a quiet evening. As I entered the house with the intention of simply reheating some food, a thought struck me—should I also prepare something for him? I had promised my mother that I would make more effort to appear content with Warren. Prior to the party, I had convinced myself I could manage it, but his recent behavior had extinguished any desire to feign happiness.

Although I could put on a fa?ade, I couldn't resurrect the love that had once flourished between us. Yet, it would be painfully obvious we weren't happy if Warren and I continued our silent standoff without making an effort to thaw the icy tension.

Reluctantly, I resolved to prepare a meal for him as well. At least I was only reheating it. He could decide whether or not to partake. After placing everything in the oven, I poured myself a glass of water and sipped it slowly, rotating my ankles, while I waited for the lasagna to warm. I had kicked off my shoes at the entrance, cursing the discomfort of the heels. It was high time to invest in a new pair—these were becoming unbearable.

My mind drifted to my day with Jared. It was peculiar, spending time together without the constraints of our contract. Much had been said, leaving me unsure whether it was a positive or negative development. Nonetheless, the relief of no longer having to fabricate lies was obvious.

Whether Jared was prepared to accept the truth was his own concern. I wasn't going to pretend to despise him any longer when every single fiber of my being yearned for every depraved act he might inflict upon me. His mere presence felt intoxicating, but it paled in comparison to the sensations his touch could evoke.

Yet, I couldn't shake the thought of what might have been if I had possessed more courage in my youth. Could my first experience have been with him? Could we have provided solace for each other? Could I have aided him in escaping his tumultuous upbringing?

So many questions lingered in my mind, yet I realized that the past version of Alison would always be the coward, and it was futile to contemplate going back and imparting some wisdom upon her. My priority was to concentrate on the present and figure out how to endure these peculiar visits from Jared, and how he was insinuating himself into my life as if he somehow belonged there.

The beeping of the oven interrupted my thoughts, snapping me back to reality as I realized I stood there with an empty glass while the lasagna had finished cooking. How long had I been lost in my trance? I mused, shaking my head before setting the glass aside. Retrieving the food from the oven and grabbing two plates, I began to plate the meal just as I heard the door creak open.

"Hey, I've got food ready for you," I called out from the kitchen, turning to put the spatula away.

As I turned back, a scream escaped my lips, and I jumped back, my heart pounding in my chest as I leaned against the kitchen counter, startled to see Jared standing in the doorway with a smug smile.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed.

"Not exactly, but I'm flattered you see me as divine," he teased.

"How did you get in here?" I demanded.

"Through the front door," he replied casually.

"God, I need to change the gate code," I scolded myself.

"You could, but it's cute that you think it would keep me out," he remarked, moving forward to sit at the kitchen island. He then reached for one of the plates, sliding it toward himself before grabbing the fork and beginning to eat.

"Um, that food wasn't for you," I protested.

"No? I thought you said you had food ready," he teased.

"Yes, for Warren. I thought he was coming through the front door," I explained.

Jared shrugged, unfazed, and continued to eat. "Why are you making him food? Doesn't he have two hands?"

"So do you," I retorted.

He chuckled, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"I was just reheating something," I admitted. "I... need to bridge the gap a little."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because otherwise, everyone will believe those photos you send out are genuine, and they'll think we're having problems," I explained.

"Good, let them think that. It might provide you with an exit from the marriage," he suggested.

"Jared, we've already had this discussion. It's more detrimental for me than it is for him. I can't just leave."

"Does your public image still hold such significance for you?" he inquired. I began stabbing at my food with my fork, lacking any real appetite.

"Honestly, what else do I have?" I countered, and Jared appeared to consider it, though he offered no response, understanding that there was only one answer to that question. "It's not like we're going to start sharing a bed again. I tried, but it's just... gone."

"What's gone?" he asked.

"The magic," I replied.

He let out a mocking laugh, and I shot him a glare. "What?"

"I keep forgetting you're a romantic. ‘The magic'? Really?" he scoffed.

"Maybe it's hard for you to understand because you've never been in love, but yes, magic," I retorted.

"It's just chemistry. You can attribute it to hormones, attraction, and biological needs," he reminded me.

"Don't you appreciate grand tragic romances?" I questioned. "Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice, The Great Gatsby?"

"Yes, it might seem hypocritical, but knowing they're not real is what makes them enjoyable to read," he admitted.

"How so?"

"They offer an escape. A glimpse into a reality that can never truly exist, but for a fleeting moment, they transport you," he explained.

I smiled faintly, then folded my arms. "And yet you claim not to believe in the magic of love," I teased.

"I don't. It's utterly ridiculous," he asserted.

"Is it now?" I mocked, then glanced down at the lasagna he was devouring. Jared followed my gaze, then looked back at me. "What?"

"Would you like some water? Or perhaps a beer? Maybe a glass of wine?" I offered.

"Yeah, sure, water would be fine."

I couldn't help but chuckle, fetching a water bottle and placing it in front of him. He looked at me quizzically as he opened it, and before taking a sip, he asked, "What's so amusing?"

"You know, this is very much like our marriage game, and yet you still deny the existence of love," I teased, gesturing to our current situation.

"We've played this game before," he remarked, setting the water bottle down. "How does this prove anything?"

"I'm not contractually obligated to serve you food, yet you seem to enjoy it nonetheless," I pointed out.

"I was hungry. So I ate," he reasoned.

"Indeed? Why not ask your wife to do it? Perhaps it could inject some magic into your marriage," I teased, taking a bite of my food and finding my appetite returning.

Jared shook his head. "I'm sure you're aware that I have no intention of going home. I came here for a reason."

"You label your wife as sex-crazed, and yet here you are," I remarked, using my fork to gesture toward him.

"Yes, because I know you despise it. I encroach upon every bit of privacy you have."

"The same as Astrid is doing. Don't you see the irony?" I pointed out.

"I started it. If anyone's imitating, it's Astrid," he countered.

"Actually, you're both just mimicking," I quipped with a smirk. "I'm the master."

Jared narrowed his eyes, and I maintained my smile as I continued eating. Slowly, he rose from his seat, circling the kitchen island before advancing toward me. I stayed rooted to my spot, feeling frozen under his intense gaze. He stopped beside me, then gently grasped my chin, turning my head to face him squarely.

"What did you say?" he taunted me. "Tell me again who the master is—your Master."

"That wasn't..." I began, trailing off as Jared drew nearer, but just as our lips were about to touch, the front door opened and closed.

"Alison?" Warren's voice called out.

Panicking, I pushed and shoved Jared, unsure of where to hide him. He grabbed my arms, halting my attempts.

"Hide! Hide!" I whispered urgently in a state of pure stress.

Jared quickly ducked, concealing himself behind the kitchen island. I noticed the plates, one empty and the other filled, and swiftly switched them before Warren entered.

"Hey," Warren greeted, looking somewhat sheepish.

"Hey," I replied, gesturing toward the food. "I made you something to eat."

"You're ready to talk again?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah, let's talk."

Warren set his briefcase down, smiled at me, and approached the filled plate. I glanced down at Jared, who grinned up at me before his hand began creeping up my exposed leg, attempting to slide under my skirt. I kicked him, and he let out a soft grunt.

"What was that?" Warren inquired, his expression curious.

I coughed lightly. "Just had something stuck in my throat."

Warren nodded, taking a bite of his food before reaching for the water bottle, noting it had been partially consumed.

"I took a few sips," I explained.

"You must have been hungry too, I can tell," Warren teased, taking a sip from the same bottle Jared had used. I suppressed a smile, pressing my lips together.

As Warren resumed eating, Jared wrapped his hand around my calf again and leaned in to kiss my thigh, his warm lips caressing my skin. I attempted to push him away, and Warren noticed my discomfort.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Just a cramp. My heels are torture," I replied.

"Would you like to go shopping for new ones before dinner?" Warren suggested.

"Yes, that sounds good. If you have time, we can go together," I agreed.

Suddenly, Jared sank his teeth into my thigh, and I fought to maintain my composure. He continued biting until I felt a mark had been left.

"Are you all right, love? You look a bit pale," Warren observed.

Jared then ran his tongue over the mark before moving behind me, gradually lifting my skirt higher.

"I'm just tired. This annoying model wouldn't leave my office, even though I made it quite clear he wasn't a good fit for the agency," I explained.

This time, Jared bit my inner thigh, and I grasped the edge of the kitchen island, stifling a sharp intake of breath at the sting.

"Must have been frustrating," Warren commented.

"So... um, yes, very frustrating," I stammered, feeling Jared's tongue tracing the mark, then moving higher. "I-I think it would be good if we tried to alleviate this tension between us."

"Yes, I agree. It has been... difficult for both of us," Warren acknowledged.

I refrained from correcting him about the true source of our difficulties, instead focusing on resisting Jared's attempt to create distance between my thighs to lick me. I squeezed them together firmly, ignoring his nails digging into my knees as a silent demand for me to open them. He bit me again, teasing my skin with his tongue, but he couldn't venture too high without drawing attention.

"So, let's plan to have dinner together for the next few days. It might help establish a routine for us," I suggested.

"I think that's a good idea," Warren agreed, finishing his food. "What about our sleeping arrangements?"

"We are not there, as you know," I replied.

"Alison, how will we ever grow closer if we can't even sleep together?"

"Maybe when I no longer see all those women fawning over you, then I'll consider sleeping beside you again," I retorted. To my surprise, Jared began caressing my legs in a rewarding manner, as if acknowledging my response, before kissing the back of my thighs lingeringly after each kiss.

"Alison," Warren sighed.

"This is as far as I'm willing to go. Be grateful I'm here, especially considering your behavior after the party," I stated firmly.

"I know I went a bit too far."

"No, you crossed a line."

"It's my bedroom!"

"Yes, and you also tried to have sex with me, and I said no!" I exclaimed.

Jared suddenly froze, and I avoided looking in his direction. However, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him leaning back against the counter and reaching into his jacket—an action I knew all too well.