BEAUTIFUL MISTAKE

"Why so distracted?" Rhett Yates asked.

The moonlight spilled through the window, wrapping the room in silver light.

Steam lingered in the bathroom, and shadows swayed on the walls.

Alina Clarke was pressed against the cool tiles, the man behind her close, his grip firm on her wrists held high above her head. His other hand anchored her waist, the pressure leaving faint red marks across her skin.

A low chuckle brushed her ear. Then came the heat of his breath. A gentle bite. A slow, deliberate caress.

Heat bloomed through Alina's body, wave after wave.

She trembled, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

An hour passed before her knees finally gave out, and she sank against him.

Rhett caught her with ease, his arms wrapping around her from behind. He laughed softly, kissed her bare shoulder, and after a moment, lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom.

By the time she was laid gently on the bed, her body had given in, heavy with exhaustion.

She watched as Rhett tied his robe loosely and walked toward the bedroom door. Summoning her strength, Alina sat up. "Rhett."

He stopped, turning his head. "Hm?"

"I want to talk."

They had been married for over six months, yet it felt more like a merger than a marriage.

The intimacy was there, yes. But their hearts and minds never quite met.

Even on nights like this, no matter how intense it got, they always ended up in separate rooms.

It made sense, she thought. This wasn't a marriage born out of love. It was arranged, deliberate, and strategic. In many ways, it was a transaction.

Hearing her tone, Rhett turned fully, but instead of returning to the bed, he chose the sofa opposite.

He sat casually, legs crossed, tapping his fingers along the armrest in a rhythm that matched his laid-back charm. "What's bothering you?" he asked.

Alina stared at him, her desire cooled, her thoughts clear. "I want a divorce."