Chapter 3: Divorce Dares and Secrets Unravel

I called after him, "Are you mad?"

He stopped, looked back. "Go take a shower."

My heart leapt. "Let's go together!"

The chaste husband's guard was still up. By the time I caught up, the bathroom door was already locked.

I pouted. Sooner or later, I'd get him.

I opened my calendar, searching for the perfect day.

To get Julian to let his guard down, I behaved myself for the next two days.

I didn't throw the body pillow on the floor at midnight. I didn't steal kisses in the morning while he was still asleep.

But somehow, Julian just got more nervous, always giving me these complicated looks.

That look—like some old noir detective eyeing a femme fatale. Dramatic much?

I grumbled to myself.

As the days passed, my gaze toward Julian got hotter.

I even dreamed of Julian turning into a little lamb, shivering in the corner.

When I woke up, I couldn't help but laugh at him.

He looked at me, confused, then got up and headed to the bathroom.

But at dinner, Julian's gaze never left me.

I was scrolling for the perfect knockout dress on my phone.

"Do you have someone else?"

I nearly choked on my lobster mac and cheese when Julian's voice cut in.

I looked up, wide-eyed. "What?"

Julian dropped his gaze, voice quiet: "Nothing."

On Julian's birthday, I finally put my carefully laid plans into action.

Give up? Not a chance.

With Julian's background and looks, he could outshine a whole lineup of top male celebrities.

I still can't decide if I want his heart or just his body.

After tossing aside a dozen dress options, I picked the best one.

Fresh out of the shower, I slipped into the sexiest little slip I owned, ran my fingers through my styled black curls, and stood in front of the mirror.

In the reflection, I looked like a total seductress.

I covered my face, blushing.

If I can't get him like this, I just won't believe it.

I turned off every light in the house except a dim lamp on the stairs. It's all about atmosphere.

The front door opened. Footsteps echoed.

I tried to hide my grin, draping myself on the sofa, pretending to nap.

In my mind, all sorts of blush-worthy scenes played out.

Julian's footsteps stopped across from the sofa. After a while, he went upstairs.

He just left?

My eyelashes fluttered, but I didn't dare move.

Not until I heard the bedroom door close did I open my eyes.

Maybe the lights were too low—he didn't see me.

At least my face is decent. That's something.

After a little self-pep talk, I tiptoed barefoot upstairs, careful not to make a sound.

Water was running in the bathroom.

I hesitated, then crawled into bed, resuming my "sleeping beauty" act.

I adjusted my pose, tugged at the slip, making sure I looked just right.

When Julian came out, he glanced at my fluttering lashes and said, "Your lipstick. It's all over the sheets."

I froze, awkwardly got up, and scrubbed at it with a makeup remover wipe.

Julian avoided my gaze and slid into bed.

Unwilling to give up, I tossed the wipe in the trash and turned to hug Julian's waist.

I blew gently in his ear, whispering, "Open your eyes and look at me."

His body tensed.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice rough and sexy. "Mia, don't mess around."

Deflated, I flopped back.

Julian's three years older than me. The first time I saw him was at the freshman welcome party—he was the senior giving the new student speech.

Under the stage lights, he wore black slacks and a simple white shirt, tall and straight as a movie star.