Page 52 of Sinful Bride

Elena pulls back slowly. I feel her tuck me back into my pants, zip me up, and refasten my belt with trembling fingers. Her hands are shaking worse now than when she started. Then she's crawling backward out from under the desk, getting to her feet on the other side.

I force myself to look at her.

Her face is flushed. Her lips are swollen and red. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears, and there's something in her expression that makes my chest tighten painfully.

Humiliation. Pure, devastating humiliation. And something else, that looks like betrayal. Like she can't believe I actually made her do this. Like she thought I was better than this, which I don’t understand, considering how she’s behaved like she thinks I’m some kind of animal.

But maybe I just proved her right.

“Will that be all?” she asks quietly, and I nod, unable to speak. “May I be excused?”

The sight of her swollen lips and flushed face is enough to make my spent cock twitch, but I ignore it, the guilt now stronger than the arousal. I nod, and she turns and walks elegantly toward the door, her head high, looking straight ahead without looking at any of the men.

The door closes behind her with a soft click, and the room is silent.

No one moves or speaks. The air feels thick with tension and discomfort. My men are looking anywhere but at me.

I clear my throat. "All right. Let's wrap this up. Finn, send me the updated numbers by end of day. Cormac, follow up on the North side situation. Dante, keep your ear to the ground with the Capettis. Everyone else, you know what you need to do."

The men stand, gathering their things. They file out one by one, not meeting my eyes or saying anything, just leaving as quickly as they can. All except one.

Ronan O'Sullivan, one of my oldest men who's been with the organization since before Lachlan handed it over to me, stays behind. He waits until the others are gone, then closes the door and turns to face me.

He doesn't say anything at first, just looks at me with an expression I can't quite read. It looks like a mixture of disappointment and concern. "That was a mistake," he says finally.

I lean back in my chair, trying to look unbothered, like a man who's in control and knows exactly what he's doing. "She disrespected me in front of my men. I had to do something."

"You had to do something," Ronan agrees. "But not that."

"Why not?" I hear the defensiveness in my own voice, the need to justify what I just did. "They've seen worse. This isn't⁠—"

"It's not about what they've seen." Ronan's voice is unyielding. "It's about what you've done. You're not that kind of leader, Declan. You never have been. You lead through respect and loyalty, not through humiliation and power plays. And now your men are out there wondering who the hell you are."

"I'm the boss," I say flatly. "That's who I am."

"You're a man who just humiliated his wife to prove a point." Ronan's expression is almost sad. "And I'm telling you, as someone who's been in this life a lot longer than you have, that's going to make things worse. Not better."

"She needed to learn⁠—"

"What? That you're willing to degrade her in front of your men? That you'll use her body as a tool to assert your dominance?" Ronan shakes his head. "That's not teaching her anything except that you're exactly what she thinks you are—a man who doesn't deserve her respect."

Fuck. He's right. I know he's right, and I have since I made this plan. I just brute-forced my way through it because I was convinced I had to do something.

"What do I do?" I ask, sounding defeated.

Ronan sighs. "You apologize and try to make it right. And you figure out a better way to handle your marriage before you destroy it completely." He pauses, then adds, "Lachlan wouldn't have done this. You know that, right?"

I had that thought, too. Another one that I tried to force out of my head to justify what I was doing.

"She's your wife, Declan. Not your enemy. Start treating her like it." He leaves without waiting for a response.

I sit there alone in my office and wonder what the fuck I've become. The pleasure is gone. The satisfaction is gone. All that's left is the image of Elena's face as she left—the humiliation and betrayal, and the knowledge that I put that look there.

I chose to do this to her.

I'm exactly the kind of man she thinks I am.

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