Chapter 32

Levi.

"You," my voice came out hoarse, vibrating with an intensity that seemed to rattle the very air between us. I pressed my forehead against hers, my breathing ragged. "You’ve been defiant, Kenya. And every action in this house has a consequence."

"What are you planning to do?" she asked, her voice trembling. A flash of alarm crossed her hazel eyes, but beneath it, I could see the answering spark of the same fire that was consuming me.

A slow, calculated smile crossed my lips. She shivered as my gaze darkened, tracing the elegant lines of her face.

"This is for the way you challenge every boundary I set," I whispered, my voice dropping to a low, magnetic hum. I leaned in, my kisses punctuating every word—sharp, brief, and demanding. She let out a soft, broken sound, a mix of protest and surrender that only fueled my resolve.

"And this," I continued, "is for the audience you tried to create today. For forgetting whose world you now belong to."

I swept her up from the floor, and instinctively, she clung to me. The connection between us was a physical weight—intense, hungry, and undeniable. She was the center of my focus, the singular obsession that kept me grounded and drove me mad all at once.

When we reached the bed, I laid her back against the red silk. We were lost in a chaotic dance of shadows and heat. Our hands were restless, searching for a closeness that words couldn't provide. The air was thick with the scent of her perfume and the raw, electric energy of two people who were as much enemies as they were lovers.

I traced the curve of her jaw with my lips, my touch firm and possessive. Every movement was designed to overwhelm her senses, to make her forget the defiance she had worn like armor all day. She moved beneath me, her breath hitching, her voice calling my name in a plea that echoed through the quiet room.

I watched her—truly watched her—noticing the way her eyes clouded with a haze of longing. I had chosen every piece of fine lace she wore, hand-picking them to frame her beauty, and seeing her now, caught in this storm of our own making, I felt a surge of dark satisfaction.

But then, just as the tension reached its breaking point, I pulled back.

Kenya.

My heart was racing, my skin flushed with the heat of the moment. My body was a live wire, surging with a pleasure that made my head spin. I called Levi's name, my voice a desperate rasp in the silence.

I was ready to surrender, to let the waves of emotion carry me away. I felt the weight of his presence, the intensity of his gaze, and I prepared myself for the final bridge to be crossed.

But instead of the completion I craved, I felt a sudden chill. The atmosphere shifted abruptly.

I opened my eyes, my senses slowly returning as the haze cleared. Levi was standing at the edge of the bed, adjusting his cuffs, watching me with hooded, unreadable eyes. He looked perfectly composed, while I was a mess of tangled silk and shattered nerves.

"Aren't you... aren't you going to..." I trailed off, my voice small and vulnerable.

"Finish this?" he finished for me, a cold, mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"I don't understand," I said, sitting up, clutching the silk sheets to my chest. I hoped he was merely teasing, that this was some cruel part of the game.

"You desire your release, don't you?" He fixed a dark, penetrating gaze on me. "I desire a true union, Kenya. A partnership where you don't give me half-measures or hidden resentments. Until you are ready to give me all of you—your loyalty as well as your presence—I will give you exactly what you give me."

His words stung like a physical blow. Realization hit me, and a wave of heat that had nothing to do with desire washed over me. It was shame. Pure, stinging shame.

Wordlessly, Levi grabbed a fresh shirt and walked toward the door. He didn't spare me another glance.

The door shut with a finality that made me flinch. I had thought I was the one playing him, that my resistance would cause him misery. Instead, he had turned the tables, leaving me stranded in the wake of my own emotions.

Levi: 1, Kenya: 0.

How was I supposed to hurt a man who knew my weaknesses better than I knew his? To succeed, to truly cause him the misery he had brought into my life, I needed to do more than resist. I needed to unravel him. I had to solve the mystery of Levi Ruthford bit by bit, until I found the crack in his armor. I had to shatter him from within.

I buried my face in the pillow and let out a muffled cry of pure frustration. I hated how much I still craved him, despite the coldness of his actions. The remnants of that intense fire still coursed through me, leaving me restless and aching.

As I lay there, trying to regain my composure, my phone buzzed in the purse I’d tossed aside earlier. I reached for it, my eyes blurring with unshed tears. Amidst the dozens of messages from colleagues and friends asking about the wedding news, one message from an unknown number caught my eye.

Unknown Number: "Hi. I saw your photos at Times Square a couple of days ago. You are breathtakingly beautiful. Did you know that? Good night."

I stared at the screen. In the midst of the psychological warfare I was fighting with my husband, this simple, harmless compliment felt like a lifeline. It was a flicker of something different—something kind.

Like a moth to a flame, I let my fingers hover over the keypad and typed back:

Me: "Thank you very much."