Rather than stepping back, Ryland inclined his head, closing the distance until they were face to face. Amusement flickered in his eyes. There wasn't a trace of anger—if anything, he turned slightly and offered his other cheek. "Still cranky because it's that time of the month? Go on. Take another swing if it'll make you feel better."
Heat surged through Corinne so violently her vision nearly blurred. The sheer audacity of him set her blood on fire.
He'd clearly spent the night with Jessica, and now he had the nerve to face her as if nothing had happened.
Without a second thought, she swung again. This time, his hand snapped up, catching her wrist with effortless precision. Before she could pull away, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a firm, deliberate kiss into her palm, sending a shiver racing through her.
"Come to think of it, a kiss works better—no bruised hand, and it might take the edge off," he said.
Then, just as quickly, something in his expression shifted. The lazy smile on his lips faltered, tightening almost imperceptibly. "Where's your ring?"
All at once, Corinne stiffened, her voice flat as she answered, "It's gone."
Trying to wrench her hand free, she pulled back hard, but his grip held firm, the resistance only dragging her forward until she collided squarely with his chest, earning a soft, amused chuckle from him.
"So that's what's got you worked up? Don't worry. I'll get you a better one," he smiled.
A low laugh rumbled from him, the vibration seeping into her as the distance between them vanished, their heartbeats nearly syncing as one.
Flirting moments like this weren't unusual between them. At times like this, Corinne almost let herself believe he was just as trapped in this marriage as she was—that somewhere beneath all the games, he felt something real, something reckless and impossible, the same way she did.
Now reality had stripped that fantasy bare and left only the sting of truth—every bit of it had been in her head.
Staying this way was something she refused to endure anymore.
"Ryland, we need to talk."
He paused for only a beat, let out an absent little hum for her to go on, then turned back to the closet as if the conversation could wait.
Before she could steady her thoughts, he returned carrying a light-blue skirt suit. He held it against her with an appraising look, clearly delighted by his own choice. "Put this on when we go to the family house. Grandma's going to adore it."
The family house? That was when it clicked for Corinne—it was Friday. The Becker family always gathered there for breakfast on the third Friday of every month.
By long-standing family custom, the younger generation was expected to arrive early and share the morning meal with the elders.
His grandmother had always been kind to her, and for the past three years, Corinne had quietly played her part.
Right then, though, a hard streak of defiance rose inside her. She tipped up her chin and refused without hesitation. "No."
A faint arch lifted one of his brows as he eased back half a step. "You don't like this one? Fine. I'll find you something else."
While speaking, he casually pulled open another cabinet, revealing rows of delicate, barely-there lingerie. "Or maybe slip into one of these instead. Just picture Grandma realizing her sweet, refined granddaughter-in-law could be this daring in private…"
"Ryland!" Heat rushed to Corinne's face in an instant, her cheeks burning a vivid, furious red.
Annoyance flared sharp and hot at being cornered like this. In one swift motion, she snatched the skirt suit from his hands, shoved it back into the closet, then folded her arms tightly across her chest, fixing him with a hard glare.
A bitter edge crept into her voice as she spoke, unable to hold it back. "Looks like you had a great time celebrating last night. Shouldn't you be taking Jessica instead? What exactly do you need me for?"
A brief pause locked his body in place. For the first time, his gaze slipped away from her, unfocused for a heartbeat. Then he crouched, retrieved the discarded outfit with deliberate care, and straightened. When his eyes lifted to hers again, something raw and smoldering flickered there.
"According to family rules, the only woman who returns with me is my wife. So what'll it be? Are you putting it on yourself, or do you want me to do it for you?" he said calmly.
Silence wrapped around Corinne, leaving her momentarily stunned.
What made it worse was the realization that she'd actually expected him to feel embarrassed. That was almost laughable. Shame simply didn't exist in his vocabulary.
Understanding exactly what kind of man she was dealing with, she knew dragging this out would only give him more chances to push her buttons. If she resisted any longer, he'd keep prodding, relentless, until she finally broke.
With a tight breath, she changed into the outfit, adjusted her makeup in the mirror, and shut herself off from him completely. Throughout the entire drive, not a single word passed her lips. Even as the car pulled into the sprawling family estate, she maintained that cold, unbroken silence.
Just as she reached for the door, his hand closed around her arm, stopping her.
"If you're not feeling well, we'll leave right after breakfast. At least try to look like you're in a good mood. Don't make them worry," he said.
A sharp, humorless laugh slipped out of Corinne. The concern in his eyes only made the whole scene feel that much more ridiculous.
All of this was just for show. He wanted her beside him so his family would feel reassured, and she had been stupid enough, all this time, to keep trying to play the flawless wife.
Not anymore. She was done with that for good.
Over the last three years, everything the Becker family had brought to the Nash family had been repaid—many times over.
With a hard tug, she yanked her hand out of his grasp, snapping, "Ryland, after breakfast, we're getting di—"
Before the word could leave her mouth, a few crisp knocks tapped against the car window and cut her off.