The Wrong Woman

Once they got in the car, the driver immediately started the engine and drove off.

In frustration, Imogen leaned against the window, putting some distance between herself and Jasper. "Jasper, why do you have to put me on the spot?"

Jasper closed his eyes and reclined against the seat, feigning sleep. "Putting you on the spot?"

"Isn't it obvious? I don't want to be in the same space as you. -"

"Imogen," Jasper interrupted, "You can hate me, be angry with me, or even hit me. But you cannot divorce me."

Imogen, still fuming, retorted, "This marriage is a sham. It was never valid!"

"A sham?" Jasper chuckled bitterly, slowly opening his eyes and turning to look at her, his gaze deep and mesmerizing. "Do you think anyone would believe that?" he uttered.

She had heard of people marrying for money or appearances, but she had never

silence fell over, filling Imogen with a deep

apart. Imogen was painfully aware of this disparity. With Jasper unwilling to divorce, she was at a

home, Imogen retreated to the room while Jasper, as he often did, went to the kitchen to

never touched a kitchen utensil into someone

and changing into her comfy home clothes, Imogen emerged from the room and heard sounds echoing from the kitchen. She froze for a moment before rushing in and quickly snatching the spatula from Jasper's Mr.

of her grabbing, Jasper accidentally touched the edge of the hot iron pan, feeling a sharp pain from the burn. He quickly withdrew his hand, his brow furrowing as he sucked in a breath. He then

his large hand, her heart

holding his hand under the running water,

silent. His eyes were full of intense affection as he gazed