I Refuse to Divorce!

Zoe felt a bit tipsy from the drinks.

It was around 11 PM when she settled the bill, and Mason walked into the bar from outside.

On this winter night, he wore a thin black coat, but the intricate blue patterned shirt inside contrasted the gloominess, making him look sharp. Perhaps it had rained a bit outside, as there were some water droplets on his coat. With his deep-set eyes and the rain-soaked exterior, he appeared as if he emerged from a storm.

The bar still echoed with deafening music.

They gazed at each other through the crowd, the man profound, the woman aloof.

Zoe wore a semi-transparent silk blouse, paired with a black skirt, adding a hint of allure to her usual elegance. Mason's eyes gradually deepened.

After a moment, he walked toward her.

Mason took her coat from her hands, draped it over her shoulders, and meticulously fastened each button, from bottom to top, without missing one.

This man's concealed intentions were obvious.

Zoe found it ridiculous.

As he held her hand, she couldn't help but mock, "Mason, what's with this sentimental act? I'm not a young girl in her twenties anymore."

Mason turned to look at her. "You're only 24."

Zoe gave a faint smile. Yes, she was 24, but she had already had her fill of the bitterness of love.

Zoe didn't take the front seat; she slipped into the back.

Mason held the car door and stared at her. "Am I your chauffeur now?"

Having had some drinks, Zoe was less guarded in her speech. She closed her eyes slightly, her voice raspy.

“You pushed Luke out and came to drive yourself. Aren't you a chauffeur? No one forced you to come.”

With a loud bang, Mason closed the car door, circled around, and fastened his seatbelt. "Mrs. Lockwood, you're being rather too talkative."

“It's all thanks to your influence.”

Mason looked at her in the rearview mirror.

With half-closed eyes, her serene face glowed. Her neck exuded an indescribable delicacy, and the black silk blouse, now free from the coat, was partially transparent. Mason gulped at the sight.

He realized that no matter how cold Zoe was toward him, he could still fantasize about her.

The car returned to the villa in the drizzling rain. A servant approached with an umbrella, which Mason took.

He wrapped his arm around Zoe's shoulder and led her inside.

Back at the villa, Zoe pushed him away coldly, saying, “I'm a bit wet. I want to take a shower."

She gracefully headed upstairs.

Her silk outfit shimmered under the crystal light, accentuating her coldness, which only ignited the man's desire for conquest and possession. Thus, as Zoe pushed open the bedroom door, her body met the man's against the doorframe.

The room remained dim, without the lights on.

Zoe offered no resistance.

She even tilted her head upward, her voice slightly hoarse. "Mason, if you want it, wait for me to take a shower.”

This statement thoroughly angered Mason.

“I can't wait, Mrs. Lockwood. I want you now."

"Do we turn these encounters into a habit now? Does taking a shower first take away all the excitement? Do I have no presence in your heart anymore?" He didn't wait for them to go to bed.

Right here, he pressed her against the door and kissed her.

They had been married for a few years, and it had never been innocent. Sometimes, they didn't need much thought to easily claim each other's bodies. Of course, it wasn't as comfortable as it would have been in bed. Zoe allowed him to mess around because their marriage had dwindled to just this.

She leaned lightly against his shoulder because it made things easier.

Her black hair, slightly wet from the rain, gently brushed against Mason's nape. A slight tickle crawled into Mason's heart, going straight to his head.