The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back
Chapter 212: You are a good man

Chapter 212: You are a good man

The room reeked of sex and sweat, the air thick and stifling, the sheets twisted and half-hanging off the bed. Caleb rolled onto his back, chest rising and falling, a sheen of sweat gleaming on his skin. He dragged a hand through his hair, his other arm thrown over his face like he couldn’t quite look at her yet.

Aveline lay there, her body aching in all the right ways, a dark satisfaction curling in her belly. But beneath it, something else too. Something dangerous.

She reached out, tracing a finger along the ridge of his collarbone, feeling his pulse thrum beneath her touch. He flinched slightly, but didn’t pull away.

"You shouldn’t have come here," she murmured, her voice hoarse and wrecked.

Caleb gave a humorless laugh, moving his arm just enough to meet her gaze. "When has that ever stopped me?"

She smiled, tired and tender in a way she wouldn’t admit to if anyone asked. The city was waking up outside, the faint light of dawn starting to creep in through the half-closed curtains, painting his skin in pale gold.

Aveline sighed, rolling onto her side. Caleb was already putting on his shirt. She stood up, put her clothes back on, and then left the hotel with no word uttered, as if they were strangers; maybe they were.

Aveline slipped the key into the lock as dawn’s first pale fingers crept across the city skyline. The apartment was still, the air thick with last night’s warmth and the lingering scent of spiced liquor and candle wax. She kicked off her heels at the door, every inch of her body aching in ways she couldn’t decide if she regretted or craved all over again.

The bathroom light was dim, casting her reflection in gold and shadow. She shed what little she wore, stepping into the stream of hot water, letting it scour her skin. She scrubbed away Caleb’s touch, his teeth, his scent, but not the memory — that clung to her like a bruise beneath the surface.

By the time she emerged, hair damp and clinging to her neck, a towel barely wrapped around her, Stefan was stirring on the couch. He blinked against the dim light, his face pale and a little pinched with hangover regret.

Aveline’s breath caught. For a second, she waited for the stare — that inevitable once-over, the slow undress with the eyes that every man gave her, whether they meant to or not. But Stefan... Stefan did the unthinkable.

Stefan turned his head away. "Shit," he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Sorry. I drank too much. I should, uh... let you get dressed. I’ll get outta of here."

Aveline blinked, caught off guard by his honesty, the way his words weren’t laced with expectation or feigned guilt. No ulterior motive hidden behind a crooked smile. Just a man, a little broken, a little bruised, and so goddamn decent it made something in her chest ache.

"Don’t be silly," she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. "Stay. It’s still dark out. No point stumbling home now."

He hesitated, then gave a sheepish little nod.

She disappeared into the bedroom, slipped into a simple nightgown — something soft and modest, pale silk brushing against her skin like a second thought. When she returned, Stefan was sitting up, rubbing his temples, and she handed him a glass of water, which he accepted with a grateful grunt.

They talked then. About nothing and everything. About the music playing faintly from the old radio by the window, about a neighbor’s cat who kept sneaking into the hallway, about the things you say at dawn when the night has left its mark and sleep feels like a stranger.

Aveline laughed, genuinely, at some story Stefan told about a disastrous blind date. And the entire time, he never once crossed the line. No lingering looks. No subtle touches. No stares that peeled away her clothes. Just... conversation. The kind that made her feel like a person, not a body, not a transaction, not a possession.

"You’re a good man, Stefan," she murmured, her voice softer than she meant it to be.

He smiled, small and a little sad. "I try."

She hesitated then, heart twisting. "I’m kinda into bad boys, you know."

It was a confession and a deflection all at once. A warning dressed up as a flirt. But Stefan didn’t rise to it. Didn’t lean in. Didn’t offer to be the exception.

"Yeah," he said with a grin, sipping his water. "You strike me as that type."

And for the first time in a long time, Aveline didn’t feel the need to be anything else.

The hours slipped by like smoke through fingers. The sky outside the window softened from indigo to pale gray, the first hints of morning bleeding through the sheer curtains. The city was waking, slow and careless, while inside the apartment, the world stayed still.

Aveline sat cross-legged on the couch, her nightgown clinging to her damp skin, hair drying in wild, lazy waves. Stefan was stretched out at the other end, one arm slung over the back of the cushions, glass of water resting on his knee. They’d laughed more in the last hour than she had in weeks, and it felt... dangerous.

It wasn’t the kind of danger she was used to. Not like Caleb, with his sharp teeth and cruel hands and eyes that said I could ruin you if you asked me to. No — this was quieter. Slower. A warmth she didn’t know how to wear.

And that scared the shit out of her.

Aveline found herself watching him when he wasn’t looking. The way his brow creased when he concentrated on a story, how his smile tugged a little crooked when he laughed too hard. There was a kindness to him that felt heavier than violence. A softness that threatened to unravel parts of her she’d stitched up long ago.

She couldn’t afford soft. She didn’t know what to do with the safe.

Her fingers twisted in the hem of her gown, her heart skittering in her chest like a bird against a windowpane.

"I should..." she started, then trailed off. Swallowed. Forced a bright, easy smile onto her lips. "It’s morning. You should probably head out."

Stefan blinked, surprised but not hurt. He set his glass down, stood with that familiar stretch, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Didn’t mean to overstay." He hesitated for a beat, then crossed to her. And instead of leaning in for a kiss or brushing a hand along her jaw, like Caleb would’ve, like every other man in her life had, Stefan did something far worse.

He hugged her.

Simple. Warm. Safe.

Aveline tensed for a second, unsure what to do with the comfort of it, then let herself lean in, just for a heartbeat. His arms were solid around her, no lust, no expectation. Just presence. And that felt more dangerous than any rough fuck in a cheap hotel room. He pulled back, smiling down at her. "I’ll see you around, Ave."

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

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