No Sex for Six Years Because of Her? I'm Done novel Chapter 135

**TITLE: My Heart Waited Too Long and Choosing Freedom 135**
**Chapter 135: Gift With Strings Attached**

Amelia could feel the rhythmic thump of Mason’s heartbeat resonating through his chest, each beat quicker and heavier than she had ever experienced.

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Time seemed to stretch indefinitely, each second dragging on, and a gnawing anxiety crept into Amelia’s mind, making her wonder if he would remain silent, refusing to respond to her plea.

Finally, Mason stirred.

His arms encircled her once more, but this time with an intensity that took her breath away, as though he wished to merge their very beings, to pull her deep into his essence, as if she were a part of him.

And then, right next to her ear, he exhaled a single, soft word that filled the air with a sense of tentative hope.

“Okay.”

But before relief could wash over her, his low, languid voice broke through the moment again, carrying a tone that felt almost like admiration.

“Amelia, you really are clever,” he drawled, his half-lidded gaze narrowing with a hint of mischief.

How long they remained in that intimate embrace, she couldn’t say. It was only when the last whisper of noise from outside faded into silence that Amelia dared to push against the wardrobe door.

Creak.

The soft sound echoed sharply in the stillness of the empty bedroom, a stark reminder of their earlier confinement.

Light flooded in, banishing the oppressive darkness and the suffocating heat that had cocooned them in danger.

In a flurry of motion, Amelia scrambled from Mason’s arms, almost crawling in her urgency. As her feet hit the floor, her knees wobbled, threatening to give way beneath her.

She steadied herself against the wardrobe door, gasping for fresh air, desperately trying to calm the wild thudding of her heart that felt as if it might burst free from her ribcage.

The memory of their near-excruciating closeness lingered, his breath and warmth still etched into her senses, a vivid reminder of the moment they had just shared.

What sent a shiver down her spine was the sight of mud stains on Mason’s clothes—dark and smeared—having pressed against her during their cramped struggle in the wardrobe. Now, they marked her pale dress, an unmistakable testament to their secret encounter.

Those stains felt intimate and shameful, an unspoken imprint of the bond they had just forged in the shadows.

Gradually, Amelia’s heartbeat began to slow, settling after its frantic peak, though her limbs still bore the weakness of being held so tightly.

She raised her head, her gaze finding Mason as he stepped out of the wardrobe, a picture of composure.

He appeared unfazed, no trace of disarray marring his features. He looked every bit the epitome of control, as if the man who had just cornered her in the darkness was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

With a casual flick, he straightened the collar of his slightly rumpled shirt. Under the bright light of the bedroom, his eyes appeared even darker, a fortress that was increasingly difficult to penetrate.

10:56 Wed, Dec 17

**Chapter 135: Gift With Strings Attached**

+5 Pearls

Amelia curled her fingers into her palm, summoning the courage to meet his gaze. “You … remember what you just promised me.”

Mason paused, his response delayed as he stepped closer, leaning in slightly, the air between them thickening. “Amelia, this is the second time you’ve hidden me. Don’t let there be a third,” he said, his voice low and serious.

He had prepared everything long before.

He hadn’t needed to enter Ethan’s bedroom. He hadn’t needed to be ensnared in that cramped wardrobe with her. He hadn’t needed to look even the slightest bit disheveled.

So what was it that he truly wanted?

Had he merely followed her into that confined space to confront her, to extract the truth about her divorce?

When it came to strategy and manipulation, she realized she had never stood a chance against Mason.

A short while later, when Fiona and Grace returned from outside, they found Amelia and Mason seated across from each other in the garden pavilion.

A delicate coffee set adorned the stone table between them, steam rising gently, creating an atmosphere that belied the tension of earlier.

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Both of them appeared perfectly composed, seated at a respectful distance, exuding a polite demeanor that suggested nothing unusual had transpired.

Fiona approached, presenting a carefully wrapped brocade box to Mason, her tone laced with anticipation as she explained, “This is a piece of antique porcelain my late husband acquired years ago. It may not be a priceless treasure, but it holds value. Consider it a small gift for our first meeting.”

The gift was undoubtedly expensive, a clear indication of the Rowes’ eagerness to secure his cooperation.

Mason stood, his demeanor polite yet distant, refraining from reaching out to accept it. Instead, he offered a mild acknowledgment, “Thank you, Fiona. You’re very thoughtful.”

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