~Alistair's POV~
Alex looked at me, his expression full of that confused, gentle innocence. "Babe, why are you angry?"
"Stop it," I snapped, the annoyance bubbling over.
"Stop pretending you don't understand. You know exactly what she was implying, that I'm the one wearing you down. And you just stood there. You couldn't defend me? You couldn't tell her the truth, that you're the one who's always reaching for me? I'm so sick of your silence."
I started to walk away, but he came after me, his voice calm. "Alis, it wouldn't have mattered. Even if I had explained it to her…"
I whirled around, my gaze blazing. "It never matters, does it? Because you can't go against her. Not even for me. Not even to protect my dignity."
He opened his mouth to speak, the same gentle, apologetic expression on his face that used to comfort me, but now it only made me feel sick. I held up a hand to silence him.
"Enough. I'm always the one who ends up looking loud and unreasonable because I'm the only one who speaks up. How could you understand? You're not the one in my place."
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice soft, reaching out as if to touch my arm.
"Please... enough."
I ran my hand through my hair, feeling the walls of the estate closing in on me. Even the music and the expensive drinks at this party couldn't dull the edge of my frustration.
My husband looks so innocent that sometimes, when I try to describe his darker side, I sound like I'm lying. With that gentle look of his, who would even believe me?
I needed to speak to someone who truly understood my situation, someone who saw me as a person, not just a son-in-law to be managed or a body to be craved.
I stood my ground, watching from the sidelines as my mother-in-law paraded Alexander around, introducing him to the daughters of his colleagues. It was a blatant display of disrespect, but I didn't even have the energy to care. It wasn't the worst thing she had done to me since we arrived.
A bitter wave of regret washed over me. I kept thinking back to our life abroad. Alexander had warned me; he had quietly suggested we stay away, knowing exactly what his mother was capable of. But I had been the one to insist. I was homesick. I missed my parents. I thought "home" would be a sanctuary.
Now, nine months after our return, the irony was like a weight on my neck. I had only managed to see my parents once. The rest of my time was spent trapped between my husband's silent devotion and his mother's suffocating control.
As the party slowly came to an end, I didn't wait for permission or pleasantries. I took the elevator to our floor and headed to our room by myself. Waiting for Alexander was pointless. I knew the routine. His mother wouldn't release him until the very last guest had crossed the threshold.
The moment I stepped into our room, I shed my clothes and slipped into a long, hot shower, letting the evening rinse away.
Afterwards, I climbed into bed, grabbed my phone from the nightstand, and scrolled through Instagram, hoping to calm my racing thoughts.
Nearly two hours passed before I heard the door click open. Alexander finally came back.
I didn't look up. I set my phone on the wireless charger, watched the screen light up to show it was charging, then pulled the duvet up to my chin, covering myself completely.
Alex disappeared into the bathroom to shower. When he returned, dressed in a robe, he slipped into bed beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight.
"Babe," he murmured. "Why didn't you wait for me?"
"There was no reason to," I replied.
He opened his mouth to say more, but I cut him off. "I'm tired, Alex. I want to sleep now."
I turned my back to him and closed my eyes, staring into the dark.
After a moment, he spoke. "My mother asked me to inform you that next Saturday, we'll be accompanying her to a conference," he said quietly behind me.
That was the breaking point. I lost it.
I sat up in one sharp movement, anger spilling into my voice. "Alex, can you just close your mouth? She invited you, not me. I'm not going anywhere. I've heard enough. I haven't even had a chance to breathe since we got back to this country. Please count me out."
I slammed my hand against the mattress to emphasize my words. The sound was loud in the quiet room, and I saw a flicker of surprise cross Alex's face.
"Babe, why are you raising your voice?" he asked calmly, and that only made me angrier. "It's not good, baby. Since when did you start shouting like this?"
"Since the moment you refused to say no to your mother," I shot back, rising from the bed. Anger buzzed through me, making it impossible to stay still. "I'm done. If you want to go, then go with her. But I'm staying behind. I'll be sleeping on the sofa tonight."
I moved toward the couch, my heart hammering. Alex looked shocked, but I didn't care. Enough was enough.
After a moment, Alex rose and came after me. Without a word of protest, he took my hand, his touch soft. "Come here, baby," he murmured, leading me back to the bed.
I took his hand and let him lead me back to the bed. Once we were settled, he looked into my eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm truly sorry, okay."
"Babe, don't just say you're sorry," I whispered, my voice soft. "Just tell her no. You're allowed to say no sometimes. You don't have to say yes to everything."
He stroked my cheek, his gaze lingering on mine. "I understand, honey. I hear you."
The mood shifted in the blink of an eye. The anger that had been fueling me was replaced by a sudden, sharp hunger as Alex leaned in to kiss me. I kissed him back, our lips meeting with a desperate intensity.
Before I knew it, we were both naked. He worshipped my body with his mouth, kissing me until I was laid flat on the bed. He reached for the drawer, pulled out the lube, and coated his length. Then, he gently turned me over, preparing to take me from behind.
I felt him enter me, stretching me as he slid inside. My husband had a very long, thick cock, and despite my anger, I loved the feeling of him filling me completely. As he began to move, the rhythm steady and deep, I gasped out a single word.
"Mine."
"Yes, honey," he answered, his voice a low growl of satisfaction.
"I have a request," I murmured, clutching the sheets as he moved inside me.
"What is it?"
"Can you tell your mom we're going home tomorrow?
"Why honey?" He asked
We can't be ourselves here, Alex. I can't even enjoy you or moan the way I want to. If she knows we're having sex again, you know what will happen."
He drove inside me with powerful thrusts, he was about to speak when the sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, stopping right outside our door.
My heart stopped. Alex immediately grabbed the duvet, throwing it over both of us to hide our naked bodies. We went deathly silent.
There was a brief, deliberate silence outside the door. When the voice finally broke through, it was cold and unmistakable. Alex's mother.
"Alex, baby? Are you still awake?"
My husband held his breath, his hand coming up to cover my mouth to ensure I stayed silent.
He didn't pull out; he stayed buried deep inside me, his body still twitching with the need to move, but we were frozen.