Pollyanna couldn’t remember being this nervous, and even though she knew it was silly of her, she couldn’t help it. Of course, the way Kyr was staring at her wasn’t helping at all. Right now, it was like he wasn’t her husband. Instead, the man seated behind the table felt more like the Kyrillos Gazis, billionaire, master of the island, and a total stranger.

Maybe I came at the wrong time, Pollyanna thought. Maybe he was really busy today, and that was why everyone had been looking at her. It didn’t occur to Pollyanna at all that the looks had been either admiring or envious, depending on the person’s gender. Even after being married to Kyr for several years, Pollyanna still didn’t consider herself extraordinarily pretty, and while she did see her reflection on the mirror, she didn’t really see it, didn’t see the way happiness and maturity had made her lose the baby fat in her cheeks and how her body had become more voluptuous rather than just curvy.

But her husband was an entirely different matter.

Kyr had seen the way his young wife had gradually blossomed into womanhood, and even though he couldn’t admit it, seeing her grow more beautiful and sexier had put him on edge. He had become more determined to keep her chained to his side, and he had thought that because she was in love with him, she wouldn’t mind.

But he was wrong, apparently.

“I feel like I’m being interviewed for a job.” She blurted out her admission, hoping to make her husband laugh and perhaps lessen the tension inside Kyr’s office.

But her husband’s unreadable expression remained, and her nervous laugh died a quick death.

“Kyr?”

His voice was just as expressionless when he asked, “What kind of work are we talking about?”

She answered him nervously, telling him about this friend she had, a fellow parent from the twins’ school. Camille had seen the magazine spreads about her annual birthday parties for the twins and wanted to know if Pollyanna was interested in working as an event stylist.

“Because I have this friend in New York, and so far she hasn’t found anyone she likes to work with for her son’s party. I think you’ll be perfect for her.”

Pollyanna had told her new friend she would think about it, but even then she had already known she would probably do everything to clinch the job.

Like convincing her husband about letting her go to New York, she thought. Anxiety made her babble, and she found herself talking about the glories of modern-day motherhood, of the need to build her financial independence, and the importance of pursuing her passion.

She said everything except the truth, which was that she had been struck by a massive dose of insecurity when she had attended the twins’ PTA. At that time, she had been surrounded by working mothers, all of them happily talking about the pride and joy they felt of being able to take care of their children while doing a great job at the office.

If Pollyanna had been a little more experienced, she wouldn’t have even considered comparing her life to other women. But even though she was already twenty-five, and with three children with Kyr, the fact was that her entire life she had been sheltered, first by her parents and then her husband.

This had left her inadequately equipped to handle unexpected pressure from her peers, even when it was unintentional. For Pollyanna, hearing the other mothers’ accomplishments was immediately a negative remark about hers. And suddenly, all she had been able to think about was what had she done to make her children proud?

She didn’t care about making herself feel proud, but she did care about what her children would think of her when they were old enough.

She wanted them to look at her and think, ‘That’s my mom!’

She didn’t want them to look at her and run away the opposite direction.

With this thought foremost in mind, Pollyanna unthinkingly repeated everything she heard from the other mothers, and so determined was she to convince her husband to allow her to be a career parent, she failed to notice the way the billionaire’s face had become increasingly hard at her words.

The entire time Pollyanna was speaking, all Kyr could hear was Ana. Every word his wife dropped was terribly reminiscent of the way Ana had used to talk about going after her dreams, and the similarity left a bitter taste in his mouth.

What was it about him, he wondered savagely, that he always ended up attracted to women who believed their dreams were reason enough to destroy the people around them?

When she finished, Kyr didn’t even hesitate, shooting her plans down with a curt, “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Her eyes widened, and her lips opened and closed several times.

And yet, it was the first time Kyr did not find his wife’s comical look of surprise endearing at all.

Instead, his anger at the past made him hard, and worse than that, it made him blind and deaf to the insecurities that underscored his wife’s voice.

When Pollyanna finally recovered her voice, she could only ask, “Why?” She trusted her husband implicitly, and if he was telling her no, surely he had a good reason?

“Because it’s not worth it,” he said coldly. “Your skills are replaceable, but the time you lose when you’re away from our children is not.” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted it instantly. But he couldn’t take it back.

For one moment, they stared at each other, both of them equally stunned at the harshness of Kyr’s words.

If the billionaire had told Pollyanna the real reason behind his reluctance to see her go, she would have understood. If she had told the billionaire the truth about her insecurities, he would have understood as well.

But neither of them had spoken the truth, and so pride had prevailed and love lost.

Pollyanna heard herself lash out, “Why can’t you be supportive of my dreams?” It was the worst thing to say, but she didn’t know this.

“And what’s your dream?” he demanded savagely. “To leave the kids? To recapture your youth and spend my money after earning it in my bed?”

Pollyanna whitened.

Kyr swore.

“Go to hell.” The words made Kyr flinch because he knew that someone like Pollyanna wouldn’t have said such a thing if she wasn’t hurting terribly.

And he would have let her go, let his wife have some much-needed space, if not for her next words.

“I don’t think I want this kind of marriage.”

And it was like being rejected by Ana all over again.

In seconds, he had gone around his desk and caught up with her. She had just turned the knob, but he slammed the door shut.

He hauled her away from the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”

She whirled around and slapped him. “I hate you!” Her eyes blazed with angry tears.

“Let’s see how much you mean that,” he snarled just before ripping her dress from her body.

She screamed, going wild, but it didn’t stop him from ripping the rest of her dress and her underwear soon followed. She tried clawing him, but it was no use, he was too powerful, and he had thrown her on the couch in no time.

“No!” But there wasn’t just fear and anger in her cry. There was desire, too, and both of them knew it.

His eyes glittered down at her. “You will never leave me.”

And then he was unbuckling his belt and unzipping himself, and when she realized that he was going to take her without a condom, she realized with a flash that he could get her pregnant again. Since giving birth to Leo five months ago, she had stopped taking birth control, her body having developed a sudden, inexplicable allergy to it.

If she became pregnant again, she thought sickly, it would be all over, and she wouldn’t be able to start working.

So she started to struggle harder, screaming, trying to claw him, but it was no use. He was too strong, and her own body was betraying her. His cock slid inside her, and she moaned, both in pleasure and despair.

Then he was fucking her hard, holding her legs up in the air, the inescapable force of his thrusts imprisoning her under him, and she moaned. “No!”

“Yes,” he hissed down at her, and as if he was challenged by her continued refusal, he deliberately circled his hips, making sure that this time his thrusts rubbed her clit with just the right amount of pressure.

“Aaaah!” She was slowly losing her mind, her anger fading as her need for her husband grew.

Over and over, he pumped his cock into her, his hips moving faster than it had ever been, and in the end, she could only surrender with a cry.

A low growl of triumph escaped him, and he flipped on her back, knowing that entering her from behind would heighten her pleasure. Now that she had given herself to him, it was his turn to please his wife and give himself to her. He fucked her hard, pinching her nipples in rhythm with his thrusts, and when she began to pant loudly, he knew she was close.

“Come for me,” he said harshly, and he thrust into her as deeply as he could.

She came with a ragged sob, and her climax spurred his, and clasping her hips tightly to him, he spilled every drop of cum inside her pussy, even grinding his cock against her so not a drop would be wasted.

But when the haze of their lovemaking faded, reality crashed, and both of them wordlessly disentangled themselves from each other. Seated at the couch, still naked, he watched his wife slowly pick up her clothes from the floor, her every movement stiff.

Then he heard her choke back a sob, and he moved first, thinking, ‘To hell with pride.’

He had her in his arms the next moment, and she was sobbing against his chest.

He inhaled hard. “I’m sorry,” Kyr gritted out.

Pollyanna nodded, but now she was old enough to know that sometimes, sorry just wasn’t enough. Now, she finally realized that the day would come when she had to stop papering over the cracks of their marriage and find out what the real problem was.

Because, even if neither of them didn’t want to admit it, their marriage wasn’t perfect.