He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Roxanne felt her heart leap into her throat as one of the uniformed house staff pulled the heavy vehicle door open for her. She stepped out of the SUV and turned toward the mansion. For some reason, every member of the household staff was staring at her.

And none of them looked happy.

At the far end of the entry line, two housemaids whispered frantically behind their hands, their fingers trembling as they gestured toward the front doors.

Roxanne’s brows pulled together in a tight crease, a cold spike of anxiety piercing her chest. Something felt completely wrong.

Richard stepped up behind her, his hand sliding smoothly into hers to anchor her fingers. "Are you ready to go inside?" he asked, a gentle smile warming his face as he looked down at her.

Roxanne looked up at him, her forehead creased with worry. "Something is wrong, Richard," she murmured, her voice barely carrying above the rustle of the surrounding trees.

Richard frowned, looking from her tense posture to the row of staff members standing along the driveway. His dark eyes narrowed as he registered the nervous energy lingering in the air.

"John," Richard called out, his deep voice slicing cleanly through the quiet.

The head butler stepped forward instantly, swallowing hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing above his stiff collar. "Yes, Mr. Vance?" he replied, his tone noticeably strained.

"What is going on here?" Richard asked, his posture going rigid as he studied the man’s pale face. "Why is everyone acting so agitated?"

John swallowed again, bowing his head slightly. "Um... sir," he stammered, avoiding direct eye contact. "We had no prior notice that you would be returning with a guest. That is why—"

"She is not a guest," Richard interrupted firmly, his voice ringing out clearly for every staff member to hear. "She is the lady of this house. Let that be understood by everyone here, John. Roxanne resides here now."

John and the surrounding staff gave quick, tight nods, but Richard’s decree seemed to make their postures even stiffer. A deep instinct warned Roxanne that whatever was disturbing them had nothing to do with staff protocol.

John took a hesitant step closer. "Sir, perhaps you should allow us a few moments to prepare your room."

Richard frowned. "Prepare it?"

John nodded, swallowing. "Yes, Sir."

"For what? You had hours to do that," Richard shot back, frowning.

John hesitated. "I know, Sir. But it would be better if you waited downstairs, because—"

Richard raised a hand, cutting the butler off, and gently guided Roxanne toward the grand entrance doors. "Let us head inside," he said softly to her.

Roxanne nodded, though her heart was pounding hard against her ribs. She glanced back over her shoulder, noticing how deeply unsettled the butler appeared.

What could possibly be waiting inside? Is there an intruder? Or someone who shouldn’t be here? She tried to rationalize the fear away. No, perhaps they are simply shocked that Richard brought someone home. Maybe he has never brought a woman to this estate before, just like the country retreat.

Stepping into the vast, marble-floored foyer, Roxanne swept her eyes across the shadows of the high-ceiling room, half-expecting someone to step out from behind the towering pillars.

The interior was magnificent, adorned with delicate crown molding and warm chandelier light, but she could barely take in the elegance through the frantic beat of her own pulse.

Richard turned back toward the threshold. "John, bring the luggage upstairs immediately."

John bowed, his hands clasped tightly in front of his jacket. He hesitated for a second before looking up at Richard. "Should the staff take the bags to your bedroom, or the main guest room, sir?" his voice quivered slightly.

Richard’s brows pulled into a sharp frown. "What kind of question is that, John? The bags go directly into my master suite," he answered, tightening his grip on Roxanne’s hand.

The butler offered a quick nod and gestured for two attendants to take the luggage upstairs.

Roxanne watched them rush up the grand staircase, her stomach knotting tighter with every passing second.

"Shall we?" Richard asked, turning to her with a comforting smile.

Roxanne offered a small nod, though her throat felt dry. How could he remain so unbothered? Was she truly the only one picking up on the suffocating tension rolling off his staff?

She took a slow breath as they began to ascend the carpeted stairs together. "Richard, I really think—"

"Relax, Roxanne," Richard said smoothly, his tone completely unhurried. "They are merely flustered because I failed to give them advance notice of our arrival."

Roxanne looked up at the attendants vanishing down the upper hallway and let out a soft breath. "I am genuinely worried, Richard. Something feels—"

"Trust me," Richard whispered, pausing on the landing to look directly into her eyes. He reached up, cupping her cheek with warm, steady fingers. "I am right here with you. Whatever it is, I will handle it."

Roxanne gave a quiet nod, letting the warmth of his hand soothe the sharpest edges of her fear, though her pulse refused to slow down.

They reached the double doors of the master suite, the butler and two staff members standing rigidly to the side of the entrance.

Richard stepped forward, reaching out to grip the heavy brass handle.

As the latch turned, John took an urgent step forward. "Sir, please don’t open that door."

Richard paid no attention to the warning, pushing the heavy wooden door open. "Welcome to your new—"

The words cut off abruptly in his throat. His body froze, his dark eyes widening in subtle shock as his gaze locked onto the far side of the room. "What in the world—"

Roxanne’s heart slammed against her ribs. She took a step into the doorway, peering past Richard’s broad shoulders.

At first, all she saw were rumpled white sheets. Then a pair of long, bare legs. Then an oversized white dress shirt she recognized instantly. Finally, Cara.

Her stomach dropped like a stone.

"I tried to warn you, sir," John murmured behind them, bowing his head in resignation.

Lounging comfortably across the sheets, dressed in one of Richard’s crisp white shirts, was Cara. A wide smile spread across her face as her eyes fixed completely on Richard.

She adjusted her posture against the pillows, her lips curving into a deliberate, mocking grin. "Welcome home, my love," Cara said softly.

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