Irresistible Temptation: From The Meek Wife To The Daring Star

"Sorry, the number you're trying to reach is unavailable right now..."

The robotic voice echoed again, but Yvonne Ellis didn't hang up right away. She sat at the long dining table with her phone pressed to her ear, calling Julian Powell, her husband, over and over, hoping he would answer just once.

Looking at the message she sent this morning-"It's our third wedding anniversary. Can you come home early?"-she sighed bitterly.

Julian had left her words unread, as if the date slipped from his mind.

But for Yvonne, it wasn't a shock. His heart had belonged to another woman for years, so how could he spare a thought for their marriage?

The truth was, Julian had only agreed to marry her to keep his grandfather, Rodger Powell, from worrying about him.

In the three years since, he had built walls around himself, refusing to talk to her and never letting her close.

The clock struck twelve, and the candlelit dinner she had worked on for hours became a cruel joke.

She let out a shaky laugh, and tears ran freely down her cheeks. Lifting her glass, she emptied the wine in one swallow.

Alcohol was never her strength, and before long, the edges of her grief blurred into a light-headed daze.

She stumbled into the bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, her unfocused gaze fixed on the chandelier's bright glare.

Just as sleep threatened to pull her under, a warm touch brushed her collarbone, and she startled awake. Blinking rapidly, she found Julian seated at the edge of the bed.

His suit jacket was gone, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A gleaming watch caught the light as his wrist shifted. His long lashes lowered slightly, hiding the depth of his eyes. His expression was unreadable, his handsome features calm and distant.

Yvonne froze in shock for a brief moment before quickly sitting up. A rush of uncontrollable joy swept through her, and her voice quivered with excitement as she spoke. "You're finally home. Has it been a hectic day for you? Are you hungry? I can go make something for you right now..."

Yvonne lurched out of bed in a panic, terrified he might walk away again. But her foot snagged the carpet, sending her straight into Julian's solid chest. The sharp bite of alcohol mixed with his familiar cologne wrapped around her like a warning.

The realization struck her all at once. He had been drinking heavily. That was the only reason he would be here, sitting on her bed when he normally kept his distance.

Even with his calm exterior, Yvonne knew better. His stiffness gave him away. Julian despised being touched by her, and his silence carried a weight she couldn't name.

She opened her mouth to speak, to apologize for the clumsy fall, but her eyes caught something that silenced her. A glaring lipstick stain bloomed against his collar. Her chest tightened, and a sharp ache tore through her.

"What's wrong?" His voice was low, almost gentle.

Snapping back, she pulled her hands away from his shoulders as if burned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to," she whispered, her apology tumbling out.

Before she could move farther, his palm pressed firmly against the back of her neck, holding her in place. His head dipped suddenly, and his lips crushed against hers.

Her eyes flew wide. The kiss was fierce and consuming, making her forget how to breathe.

Instinct told her to resist, and she pushed at his chest. However, his hold only grew stronger.

"I want you," he mumbled, the words rough and unsteady against her lips.

His other hand slipped beneath the hem of her satin nightdress, tracing the curve of her thigh with deliberate intent, climbing higher with each slow movement.

Heat rippled through her body, rising from her waist and surging up her spine until it clouded her thoughts. Rationality dissolved, leaving her lost in the pull of his touch.

For the first time in years, the hollow place inside her felt whole. And just before desire consumed her completely, one last clear thought flickered. Julian had to be heavily drunk-there was no other reason for this.

...

Sunlight slipped past the curtains when Yvonne finally opened her eyes, and the quiet rush of water from the bathroom told her Julian was awake before her.

A dull ache spread through her body as she pushed herself upright, the blanket sliding down and baring the faint kissing marks along her collarbone-marks that felt surreal, considering how distant he had always been.

Her gaze drifted toward the closed bathroom door, her chest stirring with a confusing mix of disbelief and fragile hope.

He had finally chosen to have sex with her, and it left her wondering if this meant he was ready to open up to her, to put effort into understanding her and building their marriage.

That thought gave her strength to rise from the bed. She bent down to gather his discarded suit jacket, and from its pocket tumbled a bracelet that sparkled in the morning light.

The piece was breathtaking. A sapphire cut into the shape of a delicate flower gleamed at its center, ringed by sharp silver facets that caught the light like shards of ice.

As Yvonne traced its design with her fingers, the bathroom door opened. Julian stepped out, steam curling around him, a towel knotted low at his hips. His tall frame revealed sculpted lines, from the sharp cut of his abs to the deep V that led downward, every inch of him radiating effortless strength.

His eyes flicked toward the bracelet in her hand. "It suits you," he said, his tone light, almost careless.

Her lips parted in surprise. "Are you giving this to me?"

Julian stopped abruptly on his track, studied her hopeful expression, then gave a brief nod. "Yes." Without another word, he crossed into the dressing room.

The coldness in his voice hit like a splash of icy water, making last night's closeness feel surreal, like it was merely a dream.

Yvonne watched his retreating back, a flicker of disappointment passing through her before she quickly steadied herself. She found comfort in knowing that their relationship was beginning to shift, and she held onto the belief that Julian would one day recognize her true value.

A small smile bloomed across her face as she admired the jewel in her palm. Maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to change.

From that day onward, she noticed the smallest shifts between them-quiet, subtle steps that hinted their marriage was no longer standing still. Dinner at the villa became less of a rarity, with Julian showing up at least twice a week now.

The change in routine didn't go unnoticed. At a lavish afternoon tea, the wives of businessmen eyed Yvonne's brighter mood, their voices buzzing like bees.

One leaned forward with a smirk and asked, "Yvonne, something's different about you lately. You look radiant. Are you pregnant?"

Yvonne's lips curved in a modest smile, ready to brush it off, when a sudden wave of nausea surged. She bent forward, gagging, her reaction silencing the chatter around the table.

The startled looks that followed all said the same thing-she was truly pregnant?!

The thought hit Yvonne with force. She remembered her missed cycle, her pulse quickening as disbelief clouded her mind.

She excused herself quickly, unable to sit there under the weight of their stares, and rushed straight to the hospital. Hours later, a crisp white envelope held her answer.

"Eight weeks along. Congratulations," the doctor announced warmly. "You're going to be a mother."

The words barely sank in. Yvonne pressed her hand against her flat stomach, her eyes stinging with tears she hadn't expected.

Pregnancy had never crossed her mind, yet here it was staring her in the face.

The news left her reeling, and the first thought that followed was Julian. He would never celebrate this. His cutting words from the past echoed back-having a child with her was something humiliating.

A knot formed in her stomach. If he discovered the truth, he might demand she end it.

The thrill of the moment evaporated, leaving only dread. With a heavy sigh, she thanked the doctor politely and stepped out, her heart weighed down with uncertainty.

Still, she couldn't hide it forever. Whether he liked it or not, the child belonged to both of them, and Julian would eventually know.

Her hand shook as she scrolled through her contacts, searching for Julian's name. But a voice from a nearby exam room made her stop cold.

Through the doorway, she spotted Julian inside, steadying a striking woman onto a chair. The doctor's congratulatory words rang out.

"Mr. Powell, you're going to be a father. Your wife is eight weeks pregnant..."