Cold Husband Burning Regret: The Divorce He Couldn't Handle novel Chapter 15

Charlotte bit her lip, her expression dimming.

She set her purse down. "I'll make dinner."

In the kitchen, Charlotte busied herself. The housekeeper always kept the fridge stocked with groceries, and when she'd had more free time, Charlotte used to cook dinner herself, waiting for Evander to come home. Even if he didn't make it for dinner, she'd reheat the food later, just for him.

But he never touched it.

He had always told her not to bother.

For six years, she'd tried to do her duty as his wife, and for six years, he'd rejected every attempt.

Now that she'd stopped trying, suddenly he wanted to order her around again?

She didn't dwell on it. She just wanted to get dinner over with.

She reached for the balsamic vinegar on the top shelf of the cabinet, but her hand couldn't quite reach. Suddenly, a shadow fell over her, and a strong arm easily retrieved the bottle.

Charlotte could feel the heat radiating from the body behind her—tall, imposing, practically enveloping her.

It wasn't as if they'd never been close before. She remembered the bathroom, how he'd pinned her against the wall, demanding her with that same searing intensity.

Snapping back to her senses, Charlotte edged away. "Dinner's not ready yet. Why don't you wait in the living room?"

Evander's eyes darkened as he watched her retreat. In one swift movement, he pulled her into his arms.

She froze.

"What are you running from? You never ran before, when I touched you." There was a mocking glint in his eyes.

Charlotte's heart thudded painfully, her face burning scarlet.

Humiliation and anger warred inside her.

Was this just another way to put her in her place?

"It's not… right."

"What isn't right?"

She couldn't answer.

His hand slipped beneath her shirt, fingers pressing against her skin. She tried to stop him, but he only grew bolder, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. "I don't think I've ever had you in the kitchen before."

She'd seen this side of him before—direct, demanding, never coy.

But the thought of him having slept with Tricia made her feel sick.

She kept her head clear, turning away from his mouth as he tried to kiss her. "I don't want to."

Evander went still, his gaze burning into her.

So little, in fact, he'd forgotten whether they had any left.

Evander quickly regained his composure.

And Charlotte knew—without protection, he'd never touch her. He'd never risk her carrying his child.

She straightened her clothes and got off the bed. "Dinner's nearly ready. I should check on it."

She practically fled the room.

…

That night, Evander slept in the guest room.

Charlotte had expected it, and because she had, it didn't hurt as much.

The next morning, Charlotte figured Evander would be long gone. She wandered out in her nightgown, just like always.

"Lana, what did you make for breakfast? It smells amazing…"

She trailed off mid-sentence. The housekeeper was wiping down the table, but when Charlotte glanced toward the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks.

Evander was the one making breakfast?