07 Unmoved by Temptation
97 Unmoved by Temptation
The red bikini clung to my skin, but its seductive purpose was wasted here. This wasn’t a romantic getaway between lovers. We were two people enduring Eleanor’s matchmaking schemes until we could politely escape.
Eleanor squeezed my hand warmly before hurrying away, leaving Damien and me alone in the corridor. The awkwardness between us intensified without Eleanor’s
effervescent presence as a buffer.
Eleanor looked between us, noting our distance and separate robes, and sighed. “I see.”
The question hung in the steam between us. Three years ago, I would have answered yes without hesitation. Now, I simply looked at him, my face carefully composed.
We climbed out of the spring, and I quickly reached for my robe, wrapping it tightly around my body. As we headed toward the elevator, Eleanor appeared, her smile faltering when she saw us both leaving.
Damien’s expression remained unreadable as he reached for the plate of snacks, offering it to me again. “You should eat something.”
The steam rose from the water, creating a misty veil between us. I settled on the submerged stone bench, keeping a respectful distance from him. The silence between us was thick, broken only by the gentle lapping of water against the rocky edges of the
spring.
I stepped into the hot spring, feeling the warm water envelop me. Despite my nervousness about wearing Eleanor’s suggestive gift, I decided to embrace the moment. The red bikini bottoms were much more revealing than anything I would have chosen, but what did it matter? Damien and I were divorcing.
“We were just heading back,” Damien explained, his voice neutral.
“Eleanor seems determined to make this trip memorable,” I said, breaking the silence.
“Oh! You’re both done already?” Eleanor’s disappointment was palpable. “I was just coming to join you.”
The truth was clear. No amount of seductive clothing could fix what was fundamentally broken between us.
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97 Unmoved by Temptation
I felt a twinge of guilt at the disappointment in her eyes. She had tried so hard to create a romantic moment, one that might somehow salvage a marriage that was
beyond repair.
We stood there in uncomfortable silence, water still dripping from our hair, waiting for the elevator that would take us back to a suite filled with Eleanor’s romantic touches-
a suite where we would continue the charade of politeness until this weekend mercifully ended.
The elevator began its ascent, carrying us toward an evening of obligatory politeness and separate beds, despite Eleanor’s best efforts. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever awkward dinner arrangement she had orchestrated for us.
“On schedule,” I answered. “Julian has been instrumental in working out the technical challenges.”
Elara’s POV
Damien’s eyes tracked the movement for a brief moment before he too stood up. “I’m
finished as well.”
“How is the Henderson project progressing?” Damien asked, clearly desperate to fill the silence with safe, work–related topics.
“I actually need to leave,” Eleanor announced suddenly. “Clara just called with an urgent matter. Old friend emergency.”
His eyebrow raised slightly. “Is that what this is about? The swimsuit?”
Of course. Why would I expect otherwise? Damien had made it abundantly clear for years that he didn’t desire me. The red bikini hadn’t changed that fundamental truth.
I knew immediately this was another of her transparent excuses. There was no emergency. She was simply giving us space, still hoping for a miracle.
“She doesn’t understand that some things can’t be fixed with hot springs and revealing
swimwear.”
Damien’s jaw tightened. “Got it.”
As the doors closed, sealing us in together, I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer we needed to maintain this facade. The red bikini had confirmed what I already knew–Damien was unmoved by me. Whatever feelings he might have once had, if any,
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97 Unmoved Ly Temptation
by
had long since evaporated.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and I stepped in first, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor numbers above the door. Damien entered after me, his tall frame filling the small space with his presence.
Before either of us could protest, she turned to her grandson, her voice dropping to a stage whisper that was clearly meant for me to hear. “Don’t be mean to Elara. Get it?”
Damien sighed. “She means well.”
“I think I’ll head back to the room,” I announced, standing up. Water cascaded down my body, the red bikini clinging to every curve.
I leaned forward to push the plate back, and my hand accidentally brushed against his thigh under the water. My eyes instinctively dropped to the area beneath the water’s surface, and I couldn’t help but notice his lack of physical response to my presence or to my revealing attire.
The realization was oddly freeing. I had worried about his potential misinterpretation of my outfit, but there was clearly no risk of that. I settled back against the stone edge, letting the hot water ease the tension in my muscles.
The conversation drifted into work matters, each topic more impersonal than the last. We might as well have been discussing these things in a boardroom rather than a steamy hot spring with me in provocative swimwear.
Damien’s jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Julian’s name. “I’m sure he has.”
His eyes briefly traveled over my exposed shoulders and collarbone before returning to my face with practiced indifference. I knew that look. Seven years of marriage had taught me to recognize when Damien was merely going through the motions of politeness.
“Would you like some snacks?” Damien asked, gesturing to a small plate of fruit and cheese at the edge of the spring.
I shook my head. “I’m not very hungry.”
After thirty minutes of this stilted exchange, fatigue began to wash over me. The heat of the spring, combined with the emotional strain of maintaining polite conversation with my soon–to–be ex–husband, was draining.
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“And do you want my attention, Elara?”
I shrugged, the water rippling around my shoulders. “Your grandmother seems to think I just need to dress provocatively to capture your attention.”
“What I want is to get through this weekend with minimal awkwardness,” I replied honestly.
I clutched my robe tighter, acutely aware of the revealing swimwear underneath. The red bikini that was supposed to ignite passion had only highlighted the vast emotional distance between us. Damien hadn’t even blinked at the sight of me nearly naked. What clearer confirmation did I need that our marriage was truly over?
“You two enjoy the rest of your evening,” Eleanor continued, patting Damien’s arm. “The suite has a private dinner service. I’ve already arranged everything.”
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