He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Richard’s features hardened into a dark scowl as he glared at Cara lounging across the mattress.

Beside him, Roxanne felt her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, the blood rushing hot and loud in her ears. What in the world is she doing here? And why is she wearing his shirt?

Roxanne swallowed hard against a sudden lump in her throat. For one agonizing second, a ghost of her past reared its head, the memory of discovering Christian with Sharon on their wedding anniversary.

Panic clawed at her chest.

But almost instantly, Richard’s quiet promise from the estate echoed through the noise in her head: Whatever challenges we face from this day forward, I want you to hold onto what we built between us this weekend.

Roxanne let out a long breath, forcing her chaotic thoughts back to the present. Richard is not Christian, she reminded herself firmly, her gaze dropping to where his fingers remained tightly intertwined with hers.

Cara didn’t offer Roxanne a single glance. Her eyes remained locked on Richard, her lips curving into a smile as she swung her bare legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The oversized shirt hung loosely off one shoulder, trailing down her thighs as she sauntered over. She reached out, placing a palm flat against the center of Richard’s chest.

Richard instantly seized her wrist with iron force. His jaw locked, his nostrils flaring as he glared down at her with pure ice in his eyes.

Cara simply chuckled, entirely unfazed by his anger. She leaned in close, closing her eyes as she reached up to press her lips against his.

Richard recoiled instantly, shoving her arm away with a harsh jerk while keeping his other hand locked tightly around Roxanne’s fingers. He snapped his head toward the open doorway.

"How did this woman gain entry into my home, John?" he demanded. His voice was dangerously low, but the fury burning beneath it made the air in the room feel suffocating.

John stepped forward into the threshold, his throat bobbing nervously. He opened his mouth to explain, but Cara held up a manicured hand to silence him.

"Since when do I require permission to enter this house, Richard?" Cara asked, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Didn’t you explicitly instruct the entire staff that I was free to come and go as I pleased? Or have you suddenly developed amnesia because of this?" She finally flicked a disdainful glance toward Roxanne.

The words struck Roxanne like a physical blow. A sickening image flashed in her mind, Richard standing at the front door months ago, issuing the exact same public declaration about Cara that he had just made for her downstairs.

Her pulse thudded in her ears, her free hand clenching into a tight fist at her side.

Cara stepped closer, her eyes fixing on Richard with practiced fascination. She reached out to touch his lapel again, but Richard caught her hand before her fingers could even make contact with his jacket.

"Get out of my house," Richard said, his tone flat and absolute. "You are not welcome here."

Cara tilted her head, a light laugh escaping her lips. "Why?" she asked playfully. "I heard you were returning to the city today, and I know how much you love finding me waiting in your favorite shirt."

"Don’t." Richard’s voice cracked across the room like a whip. "Don’t stand there and rewrite my life."

The sheer audacity of the words sent a wave of heat rising up Roxanne’s neck. She couldn’t breathe in the suffocating space of the bedroom any longer.

Turning her head, she looked up at Richard. "I am going to wait outside," she said, her voice tight with suppressed anger. "I refuse to stand here and listen to another second of this nonsense."

"Yes, run along," Cara chimed in, waving a dismissive hand. "I need to speak with my man in private. Shoo!"

Roxanne ignored her, making a move to pull her hand free and turn toward the hallway, but Richard’s grip tightened, anchoring her firmly to his side.

"You are the lady of this house, and you are not going anywhere," Richard said softly, his voice dropping into a tender register as he looked down into Roxanne’s eyes. Then his gaze snapped back to Cara, cold. "The only unwelcome person in this room is her. Who authorized her entry, John?"

John swallowed hard, taking a quick step into the room. "Sir, she presented a text message from your personal number. It stated that you requested her presence here because you were eager to see her."

Roxanne’s brows shot up, her entire body freezing at the butler’s words. What? No. That can’t be.

Cara flashed Roxanne a triumphant look, thoroughly enjoying the chaos she was causing. She turned her attention back to Richard, her tone turning playful. "You can drop the distant act now, darling. The secret is out."

Richard’s jaw worked heavily as he stared at her. "You are completely out of your mind, Cara."

Cara threw her head back and burst into dramatic laughter. "Are you honestly going to stand there and lie just because Roxanne is present?" she asked, putting on a look of exaggerated shock.

Roxanne narrowed her eyes, watching the subtle tilt of Cara’s head and the calculating glint in her eyes.

She is lying, Roxanne realized, a cold clarity washing over her frustration. She fabricated the entire thing just to provoke a reaction.

"Take your desperate lies and leave my house," Richard said flatly. "I never sent you a message."

Cara stared at him for a beat, her smile faltering slightly. She turned, snatched her purse off the bed, pulled out her phone, and thrust the illuminated screen directly in front of Roxanne’s face.

Roxanne didn’t even look at the glass. She let out a cool scoff. "You are not going to manipulate me, Cara," she said with absolute composure. She took a step closer to Richard, letting her shoulder rest against his arm. "Look around this room. Whose hand is he holding?"

Cara’s eyes darted down to their interlocked fingers, her confident facade cracking instantly. Her brows pinched into a furious line, her nostrils flaring as a dark rage flushed her face.

"He might be holding your hand right now, but he will always return to me!" she spat, her voice rising into a harsh pitch. "Because I am the only one who truly knows how to satisfy him! You are just a temporary distraction! Do you hear me? Temporary!"

Roxanne looked at the woman standing in front of her, feeling no anger, only a quiet pity for her desperation.

Richard turned toward his head butler, his dark eyes ablaze. "Remove her from this house immediately!" he ordered, his voice echoing off the ceilings.

John nodded sharply and stepped forward. Seeing him approach, Cara darted backward, throwing herself across the silk duvet of the king-sized bed in a display of defiance.

"No one is removing me!" Cara yelled, her fingers clutching the bedding. "This is my home! You are mine, Richard! Mine!"

Roxanne’s jaw set into a hard line, and beside her, Richard’s grip around her fingers tightened until his knuckles turned white.

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