Game of Deceit ✓

Chapter 47

The clock on the wall chimed softly as Vincent returned home from the office. The dimly lit living room greeted him, and he could see Anna, peacefully slumbering on the sofa. Her even breathing and relaxed posture painted a picture of serenity, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that often brewed between them.

He closed the distance between them, his eyes scanning her features. Vincent couldn't deny that Anna was undoubtedly beautiful, a captivating vixen who possessed a kind of allure that seemed effortless. Her black hair, cascading down to her shoulders, was tied neatly in a loose ponytail. Even in her sleep, she exuded an aura of charm.

Vincent's thoughts turned introspective as he watched her. He knew, quite well, that he was physically attracted to her, perhaps more than he'd ever been to any other woman. Her beauty was undeniable, and it stirred something within him. Yet, he also recognized the limits of his own heart.

As he looked at Anna, he couldn't help but acknowledge that he had never truly fallen in love with any woman before. Love, in its purest form, had always eluded him. He had built walls around himself, and his emotions had been held captive by the memories of his past, the absence of his mother, and the turmoil of his family.

Despite the physical attraction he felt for Anna, Vincent knew that love, as he understood it, was a territory he couldn't navigate. His heart remained locked away, hidden from anyone who dared to seek entry. The complexities of his emotions lay buried beneath layers of indifference and detachment.

Anna shifted in her sleep, her eyelids fluttering. Vincent took a step back, distancing himself from the vulnerability of the moment. He watched as she settled into a deeper slumber, wondering what lay ahead for them in the confines of their complicated marriage.

Vincent gently carried Anna to their room, but as they went, she stirred and awoke, her smile genuine and warm. "I've made dinner for you," she said, her eyes filled with affection.

Vincent couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt deep within him, hidden beneath his composed exterior. He leaned in and softly kissed her. "Thank you," he whispered.

Once in the kitchen, Anna's smile remained, and she looked at him with affectionate eyes. "Did you eat?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.

Vincent's response came easily, even if it was only a partial truth. "No, I didn't. I was waiting to eat with you."

He settled her into a chair and, like a husband genuinely caring for his wife, he served her a plate of food and began to feed her. As they sat together, sharing this intimate moment, Anna's eyes sparkled with love, and Vincent found himself pulled unintentionally into her warmth, even if it was only for that fleeting moments.