Bound By A Broken Night novel Chapter 74

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Chapter 74

“Cassie-”

He surged upright, hands coming up to cradle her face before she could move any further. His fingers tightened just enough beneath her chin to still her, to force her to look at him.

Their eyes locked.

Hers were sharp–defiant, questioning, unapologetic.

His were dark and earnest, blazing with restraint stretched to its breaking point. He wasn’t drunk on wine. He was drunk on her–on what she was doing to him, to his control.

“Divorce your husband,” he said hoarsely.

The words landed between them like a blade.

For a heartbeat, she didn’t respond. One brow arched slowly as she studied him, her narrowed gaze searching his face–as if weighing whether he was serious or merely desperate.

“Divorce him,” Ashton continued, his voice lower now, rough with promise and restraint.

“And we’ll have all night.”

It sounded like an offer. A temptation.

A line drawn clearly, deliberately.

Their gazes remained locked, neither willing to yield. Then Cassie exhaled a soft, almost amused breath.

“I don’t have any plans to divorce Zandrie,” she said at last–casual, composed, devastating.

The words were calm. Too calm.

They struck harder than any rejection, shattering the fragile certainty Ashton had been clinging to.

“Hah.

“J

A bitter chuckle rumbled from his chest as he leaned back, propping himself up with one hand while the other dragged slowly down his face.

The sound wasn’t amusement–it was disbelief, edged with something dangerously close to hurt. A hollow, humorless smile curved his lips, bitterness settling into the sharp lines of his handsome

features.

Cassie watched him in silence, still straddling him.

“So that’s what this is,” he muttered, shaking his head slowly, his gaze drifting away from her at last.

“Just a game.”

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The words landed with a dull finality, stripping the moment bare, the raw truth of what he thought he was to her.

“I don’t play games, Ashton,” Cassie replied evenly.

She shifted away from him, creating space where desire had been only seconds ago. She sat next to him and picked her glass again.

Ashton let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Then what am I to you?” he asked, turning back to her, bitterness curling around every syllable.

“A kept man?” The scoff that followed was sharp, edged with wounded pride.

“Someone you reach for when you feel lonely?” he went on, voice low, cutting.

“Someone convenient when your husband is busy elsewhere?”

His eyes searched her face now–not heated, not accusing–but stripped down to something raw and unguarded.

“From the very beginning of our marriage,” Cassie said quietly, “I accepted Zandrie’s… peculiar ways.”

She glanced at Ashton before lifting her glass again, the ruby liquid catching the city lights as she took a slow sip.

“When he’s busy with his distractions, I was never lonely,” she continued, her tone steady, almost

detached.

“I didn’t need anyone to fill the silence. I didn’t need comfort. Not until now.”

She drained the glass and set it aside, turning fully toward him at last.

“I don’t want to define whatever this is,” she said calmly.

“The moment labels enter, people will call it forbidden–especially you.” A faint, unapologetic shrug followed.

“But I don’t care.” Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering.

“I only mind society when its rules benefit me. If they don’t, why should I bend?”

A slow breath.

“My marriage has nothing to do with what I want right now. I refuse to imprison myself in standards ! never agreed to.” Her lips curved–soft, dangerous.

“I make my

own.”

Before Ashton could respond, she closed the distance again, settling against him with deliberate intent. His breath hitched, surprise flashing through his eyes–yet he didn’t stop her.

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