Too Late For Regret: My Cold Husband's Tears

ing her scent off his body in the adjacent bathroom. The water running in the shower was a steady, rhythmic roar that filled the silence of the master bedroom

ounded her. She needed that coldness. She walked to the walk-in closet, bypassing the rows of designer clothes Easton insisted she wear to the functions he deemed imp

ep. Beep. Beep. The mechanical click of the lock di

er attorney was unbroken. She held it for a moment, the paper heavy in her hands.

plets clung to his chest, tracing the hard lines of muscle that she had been clinging to minutes ago. He didn't look at her. He w

of furniture. A nightstand he

er chest. She walked over to the black ma

was a flat

t, pulled it from the hanger, and then slowly pivoted to face her. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, swept over the env

ip," Frederica said. Her voice was scra

picked up the envelope with the same casual indifference he used for his morni

ion of M

marble. They fanned out, messy and

e was smooth, deep, and utterly dismissive. "Your current

r sides. Her nails dug into her palms, crea

Easton. I filed the

anish, sucked into the vacuum of his presence. He towered over her, radiating heat and intimidation. He r

from her ear. She could feel the warmth of his

om without my permission,

against the marble surf

uptly, his attention snapping to the d

incl

left her lungs. The little flame of defiance she had nurtured all mor

shifted instantly. The cold tyrant vanish

hat is it?

of a woman crying on the other end. The backgro

his back on Frederica, grabbing

his voice dropping an octave, soothing and u

iency for another woman. She wanted to scream. She wanted to grab his arm and demand he l

ithin inches of her but didn't even blink.

hut seconds later. The vibration traveled

rrounded by his expensive suits and the smell of his cologne. Her eyes fell

for the papers, gathering them up with trembling hands. The despair i

wn phone. Her fingers

voice was dead calm. "He took the bait. Initiat