TROPHY WIVES CLUB

Part 3

Elouise Edron

Artcover: Giada Armani

Copyright: BERLINABLE

Berlinable invites you to leave all your fears behind and dive into a world where sex is a tool for self-empowerment.

Our mission is to change the world - one soul at a time.

When people accept their own sexuality, they build a more tolerant society.

Words to inspire, to encourage, to transform.

Open your mind and free your deepest desires.

All rights reserved. It is not permitted to copy, distribute or otherwise publish the content of this eBook without the express permission of the publisher. Subject to changes, typographical errors and spelling errors. The plot and the characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to dead or living people or public figures is not intended and are purely coincidental.

Part 3

The front door slammed, waking Sasha from her fantasy world that she had allowed herself to get absorbed into since Caleb had left. She heard the clunking of keys landing on the entry table and the office door flying open and knew Greg would slip away for his usual ‘down time’ before sniffing around for dinner.

She knew his patterns.

She knew his routine.

Right on cue, he walked in, taking off his jacket to hang on the back of the chair and loosening his tie. His eyes were slanted; he seemed agitated. Hungry, Sasha assumed as she pacified her own anxiety.

“How was your day, hun?” she asked, keeping a low profile as she continued preparing one of his favourite evening meals: steak, sautéed greens, and sweet potato wedges made in the air fryer he had ordered after his personal trainer had made the recommendation.

“The usual,” he said, still fidgeting at his collar, before slumping into his seat at the head of the table, as if finally able to breathe.

Greg was used to spending long days in the office to keep his multiple enterprises on track, but had made a promise to Sasha to always be home for dinner after days apart had grown into nights and she had feared the worst. While he was rich, she had believed him to always be faithful and perhaps that’s what stung her the most about her afternoon exploits. He had made promises to her that he was still keeping; in spite of the fact that the intimacy within their relationship was surface level only.

It was an act.

It was for the media.

It was for his appearance.

“It’s good for business,” he often soothed when asked why he was less affectionate within their home. She had so desperately wanted him to see that she needed more than that That she was worthy of his time, his love, his touch. Yet, over the years, she had begun to accept this lack, had learned to yearn less for it.