My Husband Called Her Late-night Flirty Pic A Mistake

I swallowed my drink in one go. I never suspected Jack of cheating on me. Having him with another woman in bed stabbed me in the heart like a dagger.

"I don't think so. He loved you so much. He wasn't the type to cheat. Maybe there is a misunderstanding," Zara stated.

Cold laughter. "I saw it with my own eyes. How could that be a misunderstanding?"

The room was silent.

Drinking as if there was no tomorrow, I was watching, Zara snatched the glass from my hand. "Even if he cheated, you can't punish yourself by getting drunk. What are you going to do now?" "I'm getting a divorce. Just seeing him with that woman makes me sick."

Gazing into the defiance in my bloodshot eyes, Zara experienced a pang of sorrow. "Don't think of it now. You need to rest. When you're thinking clearly enough, figure out what to do next. I'll take you home."

I shook my head once more. "No. I don't want to go home."

Returning to that house would be only to relive the disgusting images of Jack's betrayal. Each memory made me feel sick.

Seeing my hesitation, Zara did not pressure me. "I'll arrange a hotel room for you."

Having booked a room, Zara took me to the hotel entrance. "Do you absolutely not want me to take you up?"

I shook my head. "No, you go rest. I will be fine."

I gestured with the room card and went into the hotel.

Watching me walk firmly, Zara at last relaxed and drove away after I was inside the hotel safely. She was unaware of the fact that I, while drunk, appeared sober but was utterly in a mess from within.

I walked into the elevator, swiped my card, and the elevator began moving upward.

The doors opened soon with a ding.

My legs almost gave way when I stepped out onto the carpet. I leaned against the wall, massaging my thudding temples as I searched for room 8919.

The liquor was getting to me, and I could see blurry.

Room 8919 stretched out before me, and I slid the card into the door. When there was no beep, I glared and was about to push the door open when it swung open by itself.

I tensed up. Before I could budge, a big hand yanked me into the dark room.

The door clanged shut behind me, eliminating the hallway illumination. I was jammed up against the door, a male's warm mouth in my ear, causing chills to rush through me. The scent of pine filled my nostrils, but before I could recognize it, his warm lips were on mine.

"Mmph!" Seeing what was happening, I struggled.

Lyon was strong, and with the liquor sapping my strength, my hands were limp, almost inviting as I shoved against his chest. Lyon's hands stroked my body, and they left a trail of fire, my body reacting more to his touch.

I tried to push him away, but he easily caught my wrists and held them over my head.

"Let- Mmph! Let me go."

He stopped kissing me and laughed. "No need to play hard to get."

His fingers traced down my collar, the cold pressure making me shiver. His warmth dissipated seemed to melt me, and my legs turned weak.

Darkness heightened my senses. I felt Lyon unbuckling my clothes, my mouth dry, my last shred of sense warning me that I was overdoing it.

"Let me go!" I employed every bit of strength I possessed to push him, but he simply threw me over onto the bed.

The bed was soft, so I didn't hurt, but the shock spun my head around. I tried to get up, but Lyon pinned me down. Then my clothes were yanked off and we were practically naked.

He shoved at me, ready. His authoritative presence made my hairs stand up on end. I shoved back against his chest, biting my lips hard to keep myself calm and cool.

"Mister, I think I entered the wrong room. Please let me go." My voice shook with tension.

"Tsk!" Lyon's voice was impatient, icy. "Still playing?"

He was about to stand up and throw himself out when the room light came on suddenly. I had accidentally knocked over the table in the struggle and switched on the light in the process.

The light caught Lyon by surprise. He was taken aback to find the scared woman beneath him.

I, at the sight of Lyon, saw my face whiten. The horror sobered me immediately. I couldn't believe it—the man who almost attacked me was Jack's uncle, Lyon Summer!

"Uncle Lyon."

I had always been careful around Lyon. He was the youngest son of Richard Monroe and Marie Thorne, indulged by them and renowned for his mercurial, cold nature. Even strangers avoided crossing him. When I married Jack, he had warned me to keep away from Lyon.

"Shut up!" Lyon's face was black, his eyes glacial, as he considered whether he should shut me up for good.

Then, his eyes shifted to my bare chest, darkening. He turned around, standing from the bed. "Get dressed and get out!"

When Lyon stood up, I caught him where I shouldn't, and my face burned with embarrassment.

When Lyon noticed my flushing face, his face became even more scowling. "Still not leaving?"

I wasn't concerned with my embarrassment as I quickly dressed and left without looking back.

After going out, I double-checked the room number and knew my mistake—it was not Room 8919, but Room 8916!

I had gone into the wrong room and nearly slept with my husband's uncle. The realization worsened my headache. I should have let Zara take me up. Alas, regrets now were too late.

When I had departed, Lyon placed a call with a frown on his face. "Delete all of the surveillance footage from the Empire Skyview Hotel tonight!"

He hung up the phone and looked at the messy bed and sheets and picked up a cigarette, his frustration growing.

He had almost slept with his nephew's wife. What a disaster!