Ryan’s POV
"Boss, should I check on Ms. Serena? Make sure she’s doing alright?"Simon’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling back to the present.
And he had picked up on my unspoken concerns, proving once again why he was my most trusted assistant.
I ran a hand through my hair, fighting against the urge to imdiately agree. My pride battled with genuine worry.
"Transfer the downtown penthouse into her na," I decided finally. "And make sure she has sufficient funds. She shouldn’t be struggling financially because of our... situation."
Simon nodded without hesitation. "I’ll handle it right away, sir."
"Good. Now leave ," I ordered, needing solitude.
As soon as Simon closed the door behind him, I pulled out my lighter and lit the aromatherapy diffuser myself.
The familiar scent—sandalwood with hints of vanilla that Serena had always prepared—filled the room instantly. Only then did the tension in my shoulders begin to ease.
I stretched out on the leather couch, closing my eyes as the comforting fragrance enveloped .
Despite my attempts to focus on tomorrow’s etings, my mind kept drifting back to Serena—her soft smile, the delicate curve of her neck, the way her eyes would light up when she was excited about a new design.
And the familiar scent carried deeper into relaxation until sleep finally claid .
In my dreams, she ca to .
"Ryan," dream-Serena whispered against my ear, her breath hot against my skin. Her body pressed against mine, soft curves fitting perfectly against my harder fra.
"You’re soaked, sweetheart," I growled, my hands sliding beneath her silk nightgown to find her slick and ready. My cock hardened instantly at the evidence of her desire.
"Only for you," she breathed, her eyes darkening with need as she straddled my lap. "No one else makes this wet."
I grabbed her hips roughly, positioning her above my throbbing shaft. "Because you belong to ," I snarled possessively. "Say it."
"I belong to you, daddy," she moaned, sinking down onto my length in one fluid motion.
The tight heat of her cunt nearly undid . I gripped her ass hard enough to bruise, guiding her movents as she rode with desperate abandon.
"Look at you, taking my cock so perfectly," I growled, watching her breasts bounce with each thrust. "Fucking made for ."
She threw her head back, exposing the delicate column of her throat. The sight of her—lost in pleasure, completely surrendered to —ignited sothing primal within .
"Faster," I commanded, slapping her ass sharply. "Show how much you need it."
"Please," she begged, her inner walls clenching around . "I need you to fill up."
I flipped her onto her back without warning, driving into her with punishing force. "This pussy is mine," I snarled, marking her neck with my teeth. "No matter who tries to take you from ."
Her nails raked down my back as she wrapped her legs tighter around my waist. "Yes, yours," she gasped, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge. "Always yours."
I felt her beginning to tighten around , her release approaching.
"Look at when you co," I demanded, gripping her chin to force her gaze to mine. "I want to see exactly who’s making you fall apart."
Her eyes—those beautiful eyes I’d spent days trying to forget—locked with mine as her orgasm crashed through her.
The raw vulnerability in her expression, the way she whispered my na like a prayer, pushed over the edge.
I buried myself to the hilt as I emptied inside her, marking her as mine in the most primitive way possible.
As the pleasure receded, I pulled her against my chest, suddenly unwilling to break our connection.
In this dream world, she curled into willingly, her body fitting perfectly against mine.
"Don’t leave again," I whispered into her hair, my voice rough with emotion I never allowed myself to show when awake.
Dream-Serena looked up at with eyes that saw straight through my carefully constructed walls. "Then give a reason to stay."
I jolted awake, my body tense and uncomfortably aroused.
The dream had felt so real—her scent, her touch, the warmth of her skin against mine.
Now I was left with nothing but the lingering aroma of sandalwood and the cold realization of her absence.
Why the hell would I dream about her?
It wasn’t because I missed her. No.
I probably just haven’t had sex in a while. It’s a normal biological reaction—nothing more.
That’s all it is.
But as I sat up and looked around the lounge, I started noticing the little things.
The cushions on the couch, still arranged the way she used to do it.
The stash of vitamins she used to nag about, still lined up neatly in the drawer.
I hadn’t noticed before. Or maybe I just never paid attention.
Now, without her, the room felt... wrong. Like sothing essential was missing.
Still, it doesn’t an I miss her.
Then I checked my watch, surprised to find I’d slept for over three hours. The most restful sleep I’d had since she left.
Sitting up, I reached for my phone and pulled up her contact information.
My thumb hovered over the call button for several long monts before I finally tossed the device aside in frustration.
What would I even say?
That I missed her? That I suddenly realized she ant sothing to ? No. Ryan Blackwood doesn’t beg. Not even for his wife.
I paced the room, battling with myself. The dream had shaken sothing loose inside —desire mixed with a possessiveness I couldn’t explain away as re physical attraction.
After several minutes of internal struggle, I snatched up my phone again and decisively pressed the call button.
The automated ssage was imdiate and jarring: "The number you have dialed is not available."
I frowned, trying again. Sa result.
She had blocked . Completely cut out of her life.
The realization hit like a physical blow.
She wasn’t bluffing—she truly ant to leave .
For the first ti in years, I felt sothing dangerously close to panic.
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