Chapter 3 A Faithful Husband

Dylan's complexion turned a shade of crimson from the effects of alcohol. As he leaned closer, the mingling scent of his breath, tainted with alcohol and cigarettes, reached my nose. It momentarily distracted me. His flawless complexion was a rarity among men, almost radiating under the sunlight. Thankfully, his chiseled jawline and distinct features balanced out any hint of femininity that could have accompanied his smooth skin. Upon closer examination, I noticed his captivating eyes and thin lips.

It was often said that individuals with such eyes and lips were frivolous and prone to affection. However, I believed Dylan to be an exception. Even in his intoxicated state, he managed to maintain a certain level of sobriety in his appearance.

In a languid tone, I murmured, "Yes, you are undeniably attractive."

His response was a question. "Which part?"

Whenever a somber and serious man like him revealed a hint of dissipation, his allure became irresistible.

Leaning in closer, I whispered, "I adore every inch of you."

He posed the question with an expressionless face. "Is being good-looking an advantage for a man?"

In response, I countered, "Isn't it? After all, the desire for both food and sex is deeply ingrained in human nature. People naturally gravitate towards beauty. Even if Adonis himself were here, you would be no less captivating."

Dylan chuckled, clearly entertained by my response. "Nonsense. Are you drunk too? So, tell me, what does this Adonis look like?"

In a playful manner, I gestured with my hands and replied, "Well, according to his portrait in the book, he has a rather elongated face. Trust me, he's nowhere near as handsome as you."

Dylan's gaze shifted to my lips as he observed, "You're wearing lipstick."

Before I could respond, he swiftly added, "I prefer my assistant without makeup."

With a natural and gentle motion, I extended my hands to adjust his collar. "If it bothers you to see me wearing makeup, I'll gladly refrain from wearing it tomorrow."

Dylan glanced at my fingers delicately adjusting his collar and leaned back in the seat, creating a slight distance between us. "Will you give up anything that I happen to dislike?"

I understood that his comment served as a reminder for me to maintain a sense of proportion and not become overly accommodating.

I responded with a subtly double-edged remark. "Rest assured, I won't engage in anything that could be harmful to you. But when it comes to things that are actually beneficial to you, perhaps your dislike is merely a display of stubbornness." Leaning forward, I extended my hand towards his heart, implying a deeper meaning. "Men may often be stubborn, but they have the capacity to easily become soft-hearted."

The soft glow of the street lamp illuminated our faces through the glass window, casting an intimate ambiance. I made no effort to conceal my intentions, letting my actions speak for themselves. Dylan gazed at me for a moment before averting his gaze in silence.

Anticipation filled the air as this was to be the first night I would spend with him. The unknown nature of the experience brought about a thrilling sensation, heightening the excitement between us.

Half an hour later, the car came to a stop in front of an apartment building. I stepped out of the vehicle, followed by Dylan, whom I assisted. The driver glanced at him and inquired, "Mr. Hewitt, would you like me to accompany you upstairs?"

Dylan appeared unsteady, his steps slow and heavy as he moved along the ground. It seemed that he hadn't quite heard the driver's question clearly. Acting swiftly, I caught up with him and provided support, guiding him into the building. Observing this scene, the driver remained silent, refraining from any further comments.

Dylan's residence was located on the third floor, a spacious apartment that awaited us.

I entered the apartment, following Dylan's lead. However, I excused myself, mentioning the need to use the restroom, and proceeded inside. Taking the opportunity, I meticulously observed the items within. Beside the washbasin, I noticed a shaver and men's toiletries, indicating that the space was solely occupied by Dylan. There were no traces of a woman's long hair in the bathtub, nor were there any used condoms in the trash can. All signs pointed to the fact that Dylan did, indeed, live alone.

Feeling a sense of astonishment, I returned to the living room. Initially, I harbored doubts about the notion that a prosperous man in the prime of his life could have no inclination towards women. However, the evidence before me gradually convinced me that there truly existed individuals who possessed such remarkable self-restraint. I gazed at Dylan with admiration as he sat on the sofa, his eyes closed and a hint of weariness evident on his face.

Respecting his need for rest, I refrained from disturbing him further. Moving quietly, I tiptoed towards the window and gently pulled back the curtains, allowing the soft moonlight to filter into the space.

As the light streamed into the room through the window, Dylan was momentarily startled by the sudden brightness. He quickly shielded his eyes with his hand and impatiently instructed, "Close the curtains."

Responding swiftly to Dylan's request, I closed the curtains, and switched on the table lamp, casting a gentle glow in the room. In a gentle tone, I inquired, "Are you feeling unwell? Do you want to take a hot shower?"

Dylan chose to ignore my questions, focusing instead on removing his leather overcoat. Leaning back against the sofa, he remained silent, lost in his own thoughts.

I walked over to the corner bar, pouring a glass of water before returning to Dylan. Just as he was about to reach for it, I seized the opportunity to gently hold his hand and said, "Let me assist you."

Sensing the warmth of my palm against his, Dylan slowly opened his eyes, fixing his gaze upon me.

Placing the glass beside his mouth, I offered the water to Dylan, but he made no attempt to drink it.

Leaning closer to him, I inquired softly, "Are you concerned that the water might be too hot?"

Despite my proximity and question, Dylan remained motionless, giving no indication of his thoughts or desires.

Feigning innocence, I brought the glass to my own lips and took a sip, and then remarked, "It's neither hot nor cold."

I delicately licked the water off my lower lip, allowing my voice to take on a low and seductive tone. "The water is sweet, Dylan."

A fleeting glimmer flickered in Dylan's eyes, but just as quickly, he regained his composure, appearing calm once more.

Placing the glass once more beside his mouth, I gently encouraged him. "It truly is sweet. Why don't you give it a try?"

Continuing to lower my voice, I whispered into his ear, my tone laced with allure. "Perhaps it's my lips that hold the sweetness, not the water."

Dylan's gaze fixated on the lipstick mark left on the edge of the glass. The expression in his eyes was inscrutable, making it impossible for me to discern his thoughts at that moment. An uncomfortable silence settled over the living room, enveloping us both.

The atmosphere felt charged, as if we were engaged in a silent competition. As time passed, my grip on the glass of water became strained, causing my hand to ache and tremble uncontrollably.

With no other recourse, I broke the lingering silence, my voice soft and filled with concern. "Aren't you feeling thirsty, Dylan?"

As if breaking free from the spell, the tense atmosphere dissipated, replaced by a more relaxed ambiance. Dylan chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "Is part of your job description now to be a water bearer?"

Despite his smile, there was an unmistakable coldness in Dylan's expression. However, I stood my ground, prepared for the possibility of rejection, and replied without hesitation. "I am here to fulfill all your needs in life," I asserted.

Dylan unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt, adopting a more relaxed posture as he reclined. A mischievous smile graced his lips as he questioned, "My needs?" Dylan savored the implications of his words, his tone filled with significance. He emphasized, "A man's needs cannot be fulfilled by just any woman."

I delicately traced my little finger along the metal buckle of his belt, providing a clear and obvious hint. "Can I be the one to satisfy your needs?"

Dylan was met with a visage that was both provocative and innocent. I was well aware of the allure that I displayed now.

However, Dylan was not an ordinary man. He accepted the glass of water from my hand but placed it on the tea table, adopting a somewhat distant demeanor. It was clear that he intended to convey that tonight was to be an ordinary night without any romantic entanglements. "It depends on the nature of the need."

Raising the metal buckle in my hand, I met Dylan's gaze with determination. "I am willing to do my best to satisfy you, as long as you make your desires known."

Dylan remained silent, neither confirming nor rejecting my offer. Seizing the moment, I feigned clumsiness, as if accidentally dropping the buckle, only to swiftly catch it. In that instance, I took the opportunity to pull at the hem of his shirt, revealing his well-defined muscles to the open air. As my hand made contact with his warm skin, a surge of excitement coursed through me, undeniable and palpable.

Dylan's gaze shifted downwards, his eyes fixated on the sight of my hand resting on his abdomen. The stark contrast between my soft and delicate hand against his bronzed abdomen created a striking visual impact. There was a flicker of enchantment in his expression, as if captivated by the contrasting textures and the allure they held. Just as I thought I was gaining the upper hand in our subtle power play, Dylan abruptly withdrew the belt buckle and released his shirt from my grasp. Rising to his feet, he made his way towards the bedroom. "I'm going to bed now. The driver will take you back."

Without a moment's hesitation, Dylan closed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the living room. Unprecedented frustration overwhelmed me, consuming my thoughts and emotions.

Dylan's defense was akin to an impenetrable fortress, an unyielding wall that seemed impervious to any of my attempts. It appeared that no matter what I tried, his defenses remained steadfast and unbreakable. Despite my failure tonight, I refused to let despondency consume me. Instead, I remained resilient and determined. If my previous approach did not work, I would adapt my strategy. It was far too early to consider giving up.

After spending a considerable amount of time alone waiting in front of the apartment, the driver eventually departed at half past one in the morning. As the light from the car faded, I seized the opportunity to make my way into Dylan's bedroom. The city was enveloped in a thick blanket of fog, creating an atmosphere of mystique and obscurity. The gentle orange glow of the wall lamp illuminated the room with a soft ambiance. Dylan lay in peaceful slumber, curled up on his side. In the tranquil state of sleep, Dylan appeared serene and undisturbed. Behind his calm face, the depths of his true thoughts and emotions remained concealed, unknown to anyone else.

Over the course of several years, I had picked up various men, yet I had never slept with anyone.

Sexual intercourse was merely the lowest level of seduction. A man who stood at the pinnacle of the pyramid relished the art of flirtation, where he could revel in the satisfaction of conquest. I firmly believed that the true key to reaching the highest level of seduction was to maintain an element of unattainability, never fully granting a man the pleasure of having me.

I would indulge in moments of intimacy, such as soaking in hot springs with a man or flaunting my body in a bikini before him. I would playfully wear black silk stockings and subtly tease by brushing my foot against a man's thigh under the table. These actions would provide hints and create a romantic atmosphere, but I always held back from fully surrendering myself. I skillfully maintained a delicate balance where they desired me intensely, yet were hesitant to disrupt the enchanting ambiance. This approach fueled their infatuation, leaving them yearning for more. Having initially planned to employ my usual seductive tactics with Dylan, I quickly realized that mere subtle tricks would not be effective in captivating him. It was evident that if I wanted to conquer him, I would need to elevate my approach and employ more daring and unconventional strategies.

Realizing that my previous attempts had not yielded the desired results, I made the decision to retreat from Dylan's master bedroom and instead spent the night in the guest room. Although the act of sneaking into his bed might have seemed like a lowly method, I understood that in the realm of high-level seduction, unconventional strategies were sometimes necessary. Staying overnight held a symbolic significance, marking the beginning of a game of love and intrigue between us. Ambiguous contacts often served as the catalyst for countless romantic tales, setting the stage for all that was to come.

With a calculated plan in mind, I contemplated for a while before settling on a bold move: strategically hiding my lace bra under the bedsheet. This discreet and alluring gesture had the potential to ignite Dylan's desire, playing a part in my ultimate conquest of his heart.

The following morning, I made an effort to rise early and set out to buy breakfast. As I returned to Dylan's apartment, I found him emerging from his room, dressed in light-colored pajamas. His appearance indicated that he had recently showered, exuding a sense of freshness and vitality. Approaching Dylan, I was about to speak when the sound of a woman's voice echoed from the bathroom, uttering, "I'll use your towel, Dylan."

Dylan's gaze met mine as he responded to the woman, "Alright."

In that moment of silent exchange, a realization struck me. Hastily, I covered my mouth with my hand and swiftly made my way into Dylan's bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar. Through the narrow opening of the partially open door, I observed Dylan's reaction closely, only to find him standing there with a composed demeanor.

Theresa entered the living room, and I couldn't help but notice the dampness on the front of her clothes. Frustrated, she voiced her complaint. "I had intended to make coffee for you, but it all spilled."

Dylan inquired, "Have you had breakfast?"

Theresa shook her head and replied, "No, I haven't eaten yet. I came straight here after waking up."

Dylan walked towards the dining room, with Theresa following behind. She said, "Dylan, I'm going to travel abroad."

Dylan sat down and picked up a magazine, casually flipping through its pages. "Have you decided on a destination?"

Theresa said, "Moscow. There will be a grand art exhibition there next week. Do you have time to go with me?"

Dylan glanced up from the magazine, his expression unreadable. "I'm afraid I have prior commitments next week."

Theresa pretended to be disappointed. "That's alright, Dylan. I understand. Maybe next time."

Dylan inquired, "Are you going there alone?"

Theresa's expression turned solemn as she asked, "What are you implying?"

Dylan put down the magazine and said, "I will try to rearrange my schedule and join you on the trip."

Theresa stood there, utterly taken aback, her silence stretching out for what felt like an eternity. Dylan examined her from head to toe before posing the question. "Is something wrong?"

Theresa composed herself and replied, "Certainly, I would be delighted if you accompany me. However, considering your potential trip abroad, what would happen to the company's matters?"

Dylan burst into laughter as soon as she finished speaking. "I simply can't leave." He chuckled. "I apologize for getting your hopes up."

Theresa didn't get angry; instead, she appeared relieved. She chose to drop the subject and took the initiative to bring up a different topic. "By the way, where is Miss Garrett? Are you pleased with her performance?"

Dylan flipped the hourglass at the corner of the table, signaling a shift in focus. He inquired, "Which specific aspect of the performance are you referring to?"

Theresa rested her chin on her cupped hand, considering her response. "I'm referring to both her abilities and her behavior."

Dylan pondered for a moment before responding. "She falls somewhere in the middle. Neither particularly good nor bad."

Theresa expressed her thoughts. "Miss Garrett is a dedicated employee. She is sincere and hardworking. I feel reassured having her by your side."

Theresa sought to gauge Dylan's response, hoping to discern whether he would reveal any ulterior motives I might have had. If Dylan chose not to expose my intentions, it would imply that he was providing me with cover. In a way, his hesitation and compliance would indirectly endorse my actions.

Dylan remained silent for a moment before responding. "To some extent, yes."

As the sand trickled down through the hourglass, Theresa maintained her silence. At that moment, her phone rang, capturing her attention. She glanced at the screen briefly and decided to end the call.

Dylan inquired, "Why didn't you answer the phone? Is it because I'm here?"

Theresa responded calmly, "What makes you think that? A friend of mine invited me to join her for a beauty treatment, but I don't really feel like going."

Dylan remained seemingly unaffected, stealing a quick glance at the screen of Theresa's phone out of the corner of his eye. He then shifted his attention to his watch and stated, "I have to head to the company now."

Theresa rose from her seat and reminded Dylan, "Don't forget about Dad's birthday next month."

As she walked out of the apartment, Theresa paused and fixed her gaze on Dylan without uttering a single word. Sensing her longing, he embraced her tightly. Theresa deliberately took a step back, coaxing him towards the doorway, and embraced him, strategically positioning themselves within view of the surveillance camera in the corridor.

In a legal context, when a couple seeks a divorce following a prolonged separation, the division of property typically occurs through negotiation between the parties involved. Essentially, if Dylan did not agree with Theresa's proposed plan for property division, simply filing a lawsuit would not be sufficient to enforce her desired outcome. To strengthen her case and potentially receive legal assistance, Theresa would need to provide evidence demonstrating that their relationship was not irreparably broken and that Dylan had engaged in an extramarital affair. To ensure a favorable outcome, Theresa would have to gather evidence showcasing their love and commitment during their marriage prior to their separation. By presenting this evidence in court, even if Dylan resisted dividing their marital property equally, Theresa could potentially compel him to comply through the legal process of filing a lawsuit.

Unbeknownst to Dylan, Theresa had her own plan in motion. After they embraced for a brief period, Theresa broke the silence and said softly, "Take care of yourself."

Dylan nodded in acknowledgement of her words.

After Theresa departed in the elevator, Dylan secured the door and returned to the dining table. With a hint of amusement, he asked, "How long do you intend to hide there?"

I exited the master bedroom and positioned myself next to him. All the sand had descended to the lower portion of the hourglass. Dylan flipped it upside down once more. "You stayed here last night."

I offered my explanation in a hushed tone. "The driver didn't wait for me. When I went downstairs, he had already left."

Dylan chose not to expose my lie and instead responded with a faint smile, "What a coincidence. Let's hope it doesn't happen again."

I bent down and softly brushed my shoulder against his back. "Dylan," I murmured. "I was so exhausted last night that I ended up sleeping in the guest room."

As he leaned over to avoid physical contact with me, I closed the distance between us once more. The tip of my nose hovered beside his ear, and my warm breath caressed it gently. "Do you know why I hid from your wife?"

Dylan turned around, facing me directly. Neither of us evaded the other's gaze, and there was no retreat this time. In that moment, our expressions were laid bare, allowing us to see each other clearly.

With a hint of coquetry, I said playfully, "Don't you think there's something special between us?"

Dylan gazed at me with a calm and composed expression.

I maintained a cheerful smile as I carried on, "I had this silly thought that your wife might catch us in the act, so my instinct kicked in, and I dodged."

"Really?" Dylan replied in a meaningful tone, "That can only be an illusion. My wife won't have the opportunity to do such a thing."

"Oh?" I straightened up slowly, taken aback by Dylan's firm statement. He continued with determination, "Because I will never betray her. No woman is worth that mistake."

Men often believed they were immune to making mistakes, but many found themselves overpowered by desire. However, since he had made his stance clear, I chose not to argue. I placed the breakfast in front of him and remarked, "You truly love your wife."

Dylan picked up a sandwich and inquired, "How did you figure it out?"

Pretending to be unaware of their situation, I sincerely praised him, "As a husband, you exhibit remarkable clarity and loyalty."

Instead of refuting, Dylan responded with a smile, acknowledging, "You possess excellent powers of observation."