Reclaimed By My Ex-husband
Chapter 18: The seduction

Chapter 18: The seduction

Nathaniel halted in his tracks, momentarily stunned. His eyes scanned her figure, clad in a provocative dress that left little to the imagination. This wasn’t how he had ever seen her before.

"What the—"

"Let me take care of this," she interrupted, reaching for his coat with a playful smirk. Her fingers grazed his shoulders, and in the motion, she pressed her soft curves against his chest, her face nearly brushing his as she leaned in close. "I’ve been waiting for you impatiently."

Nathaniel stood stiffly as she took the briefcase from his hand. He didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on the opposite wall, his face cold and unreadable, as if carved from stone.

Zara’s heart pounded like a war drum in her chest as she moved in closer. "Nathaniel..." Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond.

She stood right before him. "Please... look at me."

His eyes shifted to her, scanning her once, emotionless, before he looked away. "What are you doing?"

"I want a child," she said, her voice trembling with desperation. "I want you to love me tonight."

"You know I don’t—"

"I know," she interrupted, reaching up to put her hand on his face. "I know you don’t love me. I know your heart is still buried in the past. But I’m still here, Nathaniel. Breathing, aching. I’m still your wife. I want you. I need to feel you."

He looked down at her, and something flickered in his eyes—conflict, maybe pity, maybe even a buried desire he didn’t want to admit. But still, he said nothing.

"Just tonight," she whispered, leaning in, her lips brushing his. "I’m not asking for your heart...Just be with me. Let’s live this moment."

She kissed him, tentatively at first, then with a hunger that had been caged too long. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, desperate and pleading. But he still didn’t move, his body rigid, his fists clenched tightly.

Zara could sense his hesitation, his restraint. But she was determined to break that ice, to get access to his heart. Holding his hand, she led him to the bed and pushed him onto the mattress.

Nathaniel gasped, half shocked, half amazed as he looked at her. Zara climbed into his lap, her body pressing against him. She could feel the heat beneath his cold exterior, the man still alive beneath all that loss.

His hands finally moved, not to stop her, but to grip her waist tightly.

"Zara," he growled as if wrestling himself. "What are you trying to do?"

"Please," she begged, tears glimmering in her eyes. "Don’t push me away. Don’t leave me like this." She leaned in to kiss him.

The moment cracked. All at once, restraint burned away. He pulled her to him roughly, their mouths crashing together. His hands tangled in her hair, his lips trailing fire along her collarbone.

Clothes vanished. Breath tangled.

"Since you want this, I’ll satisfy you." With a groan, he pressed her on the bed beneath him, claiming her, owning her.

The hesitation melted away. There was only heat, skin, and need. She gave him everything, heart, body, soul, while he took only what his body craved.

And then it ended.

Zara lay beside him, chest rising and falling, skin flushed with satisfaction, heart blooming with hope.

But Nathaniel sat up. His back was to her, stiff and silent.

"Nathaniel?" she asked gently, reaching to hold his hand.

He stood up and put on his night robe. "Don’t ever do this again."

She froze.

"This won’t change anything," he added, colder than ice. "I still don’t love you. And I never will."

Zara felt as though the air had been sucked from the room. Her fingers clutched the sheet, knuckles white. Shame, pain, and raw rejection churned inside her chest.

Not sparing her another glance, he walked out.

End of flashback...

Zara stood frozen in the hospital corridor, her vision blurred with unshed tears. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, the sting of Gracie’s cruel words still echoing in her ears. That night, Nathaniel had used her and cast her aside like she meant nothing. Since then, he hadn’t just grown distant, he had become a stranger. He barely returned home. The final blow came with the divorce papers he had sent without a single word of explanation.

She had clung to hope, believing that someday he would see her not as a burden, but as a woman who loved him. But instead, she had been met with silence, disdain, and now, complete rejection. And still, his mother had claimed she hadn’t tried.

A bitter chuckle slipped from her lips. "What’s the use of thinking about all this now?" she whispered.

She reached up, brushing away the tears that streaked her cheeks. Her ankle still ached with every step, but she straightened her spine and limped out of the hospital.

Zara arrived at the office with a limp. The moment Bree saw her limping, concern flashed across her face. She rushed to her side and gently grabbed her arm to support her.

"What are you doing here with that leg?" Bree scolded, her brows furrowed in worry as she helped her sit down on her seat. "You should’ve stayed home and rested."

"Home?" Zara let out a hollow laugh. "That place doesn’t feel like home anymore. I can barely breathe there."

Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled heavily, her eyes distant and weary. "Bree, help me find a lawyer. I want to draft the divorce papers."

Bree didn’t hesitate. "You don’t have to worry about a thing. Jasper and I have your back." She wrapped an arm around Zara’s shoulders and rested her chin gently on her head. "You can treat my place like your own."

Zara smiled faintly. "Thank you, Bree. That means more to me than you know. But... I want a place that I can call home."

She longed for a place she could truly call her own—a home where she could live on her own terms, create her own peace, and make joyful memories with Zane.

"And you will," Bree said reassuringly. She stepped back and flashed a bright, encouraging smile, trying to banish the sadness. "But right now, we’ve got a fashion show on the line, and time is ticking. Come on, we have got a lot to do."

Zara took a deep breath and gave a firm nod. Immersing herself in work was the only way to silence the ache in her heart. "Let’s get to it."