CHAPTER 39: HOW TO LOVE HIM

David watched Anita from the dressing mirror as she lay on the bed, her silk nightdress draped lazily on her smooth, glossy skin. With every subtle movement she made, the fabric shifted, exposing more skin.

She wasn’t seducing him, not drawing his attention, David knew. Still, he couldn’t help the bulge forming in his crotch - he has been hypersensitive and desperate to enter his wife these days, that everything she did – every batting of her eyelid, every purse of her lips, every fucking thing she did, turned him on.

Before, she would have sauntered over to get him dressed – buttoning his shirt, adjusting his tie, stealing kisses between movements, and even playfully massaging his groin. But now, she just lay there – not angry, not sad. Just... watching him.

It wasn’t a suspicious, angry, or hateful look. No. But the kind of gaze that saw you, yet looked right through you.

David swallowed, his fingers trembling from holding himself back from pouncing on her.

What was she still angry about? He thought they already talked about Linda.

Thought they already made peace, and buried all their grievances last night?

If she remained this way, how was he supposed to bring up his mother’s troubles? The woman has been calling him repeatedly since last night that he even had to power off his phone.

Meanwhile, Anita wasn’t even staring at him - not in the way David thought. No. She was lost in thought. The visit from Victor last night caught her off guard. She didn’t understand why that man would personally send her meal over and hand her flowers.

White orchids.

How did he know it was her favorite?

When Anita made plans, she drew a long list of possibilities. She hated what ruined her plans, but Victor, she didn’t see him coming.

What does he want?

She had no energy left to deal with more complications. One Blackwood family, Donald White, Lord Maverick Ravenswood, and the exhausting task of claiming her rightful place in the White family were already more than enough. The last thing she needed was a strange man named Victor Vincent adding to her chaos.

"You okay?" David inquired suddenly, pulling Anita from her trance.

She didn’t answer right away. Just kept that unreadable gaze on him, rather, through him.

She tilted her head on the pillow, finally seeing him. "I’m fine."

She moved her hip slightly and her nightdress glided across her skin. It may not have been intentional, but that slight movement was enough to stir David’s undying desire once more.

Once upon a time, he would’ve thrown his tie off, rushed over while unbuttoning his shirt halfway, whispered something crude into her ear until she laughed, then had his way with her. But now?

She was distant. Colder. And didn’t care about his advances.

Last night, he tried to get into her pants again. He rubbed his hand up and down her thigh, kissed her neck the way she used to like, whispered promises about the coming anniversary, the surprise he was preparing...anything to bring her back. Even pressed his erection against her.

But she didn’t moan. Didn’t move. Didn’t care, or even humor him with a smile.

She just lay there, like a doll, her back to him, treating his touch like it meant nothing. And it frustrated him so much he almost abandoned her again. But that would have been a terrible move, considering he was walking on thin ice around her — the last thing he wanted was to get her to find out what he was doing behind her back.

Then, she finally spoke, voice quiet but sharp enough to slice his prideclean and murder his desire.

"Don’t touch me like that if you don’t mean it."

He had frozen, hand still on her thigh. "What do you mean?" he’d asked.

"You’re not doing it for me, for us," she had said. "You just want a release. Sex with me feels like a chore to you, knowing whatever you do, your sperm will go to waste – either into an ’empty womb’, or ’poured out’."

She remembered what he said.

She didn’t let it go.

And she brought it up again. And that shut him up for good. And killed his advances, returning them back to square one.

Standing before the mirror, David clenched his jaw as he looked at her now, still lying there, her expression unreadable, her body so achingly close yet emotionally galaxies away. A bitter taste settled in his mouth. He hated feeling like a stranger in his own marriage. Hated how every glance from her now felt like a test he kept failing.

Yes, he was cheating. Yes, he wanted to strip her bare – of her power, her influence, the wealth she sat on – everything. Break her. Make her dependent on him, and him alone.

Still, he wanted her by his side. Loving him. Worshipping him. Stripped of that cold silence. Crying. Begging for his attention. Grateful. Desperate. Showing appreciation for every little thing he did for her.

David admitted he would be seen as a terrible man.

He believed Anita would hunt him down if she knew his plans for her – including the unspoken ones locked behind his chest, yet, he wouldn’t spare her.

He loved her.

And the only way to show his love, make her feel it, make her appreciate it,

was to reduce her to nothing and become her only.

Her wealth. Her safe zone. Her comfort. Her voice. Her entire world.

He would tear down every wall she’d built without him, dismantle the empire she so proudly sat on, and watch her crawl to him, broken, but his.

Only then would she understand.

Only then would she love him the right way.

And only then, would he let her build a family with him.

That was the kind of love David could trust.

A smile crossed his features as he approached the bed slowly. He perched at the edge, close enough to feel the heat from her body, but not touching.

"You said you’re fine," he murmured gently, eyes fixed on the blonde strands of her hair splayed across the pillow. "But you don’t look fine. You look... somewhere else.