Donovan stopped caring entirely, and instead of love, he gave me violence. His power consumed him. Yes, he got the lavish life he always dreamed of, but at the cost of our marriage, which crumbled under the weight of his greed.
The mafia world had completely changed the man I fell in love with, but somehow, I remained the same woman, still hopelessly in love with him.
I splashed water on my face, trying to shake off the thoughts flooding my mind.
A week passed, and not wanting to provoke Donovan, I stayed inside the mansion just as he wanted. I was heading to my bedroom when I heard his voice echoing through the leisure area.
"Clara! Where are you?!"
He was back. After a week, he had finally returned.
"I'm coming!" I called, rushing down the spiral staircase to meet him.
The moment I turned to face him, the pungent scent of alcohol hit me. Donovan smiled, his eyes glassy, as he pulled me into a rough embrace. His grip was so careless that we both tumbled to the floor, him landing on top of me. Before I could push him off, he retched, vomiting all over my clothes. The stench and mess confirmed that he had way too much to drink again.
"Ah, fuck. I'm sorry," He muttered, his voice slurred.
Suppressing a sigh, I got up and motioned for the maids to help us. Together, we managed to haul him up toward the bedroom. Donovan hated anyone else touching him when he was like this, so once we laid him on the bed, I sent the maids away.
I fetched a cold compress and a towel, and as I returned, I began unbuttoning his polo, revealing his familiar well-built chest. Gently, I wiped him down, trying to ease his discomfort.
He was still awake, though, watching me with a gaze that felt... different. His eyes lingered on me in a way they hadn't in a long time.
"Damn, Clara," he rasped, his voice low, "you're still so beautiful."
Before I could respond, he pulled me toward him, our faces brushing together, and without warning, our lips met in a kiss that tasted of both longing and regret.
I pulled away after only ten seconds, the taste of alcohol lingering on my lips, and the reality sinking in. Donovan wouldn't kiss me if he weren't sober.
The truth pressed hard against me, but before I could get up, he grabbed me again, his hands moving deliberately, caressing my chest.
"Donovan... I don't want to do this," I whispered.