Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 373

She cried out, her palms flat against the wall, her back arching. I buried myself to the hilt, felt her tight, slick heat clench around me, and I pulled out and slammed back in, setting a rhythm that was pure punishment, each thrust driving her body against the wall with a dull thud.

"Julian..."

"Shut up." I grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. "You do not get to talk. You do not get to moan. You just take it."

~~~~~

When I finally collapsed onto the mattress, I was empty. The rage was gone, spent, and there was nothing left but a hollow ache where it had been. Leslie curled up on the far side of the bed without a word, and I stared at the ceiling until the darkness took me.

When I woke, the sun was up and she was gone, as always. She knew I did not like waking up to her in my bed. The thought almost made me smile.

I left the hotel and drove home, my head pounding, and I took the back roads out of habit, scanning every intersection for reporters. But the closer I got to home, the more I realized that no one was following me. No vans. No photographers. No pack of jackals waiting to ambush me on my own doorstep. I drove home in peace.

The envelope was waiting at my front door.

Plain white, official-looking, the kind that carried nothing but bad news. I picked it up, unlocked the door, and tore it open as I stepped inside.

The court had granted the divorce.

I stared at the letter, reading the words over and over, waiting for them to make sense. The divorce between Julian Fisher and Celeste Fisher had been granted. The certificate would be issued the next day. Without my consent. Without my signature. Without anyone even asking me a single question.

"How?" The word came out as a whisper, then a roar. "How the hell can they just grant a divorce without my consent?"

She turned, and the look on her face was like a door slamming shut. "What are you doing here, Julian?"

"I came to see you. To talk to you. Please, just give me five minutes."

After I played that recording, the part where Dominic's voice came out cold and calculating, I watched her face. She refused to accept it, shaking her head, telling me it was fake, telling me I was pathetic. But I saw it. I saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes before she shut it down. I saw the disappointment that crossed her face before she buried it.

And that gave me hope. A tiny, flickering hope, but hope all the same.

If I could make Celeste see that Dominic was just as flawed as I was, just as capable of betrayal, then she would soften toward me. She could be sure of me. She knew I loved her, knew I would never let her go. But she could never be sure of Dominic, or whatever plans he had for her.