You Are Mine

The weekend arrived with a dreary sky, the sun hidden behind a veil of clouds. The Langston mansion felt colder than usual, the silence broken only by the occasional soft echo of footsteps on marble floors. For Quinn, the house had become less a home and more a reminder of the cracks in her life. She had thrown herself into her work, her time spent at Quinn's Group offering a refuge from the suffocating tension that permeated her marriage.

Quinn sat in her office that Saturday morning, her fingers tapping absentmindedly against her desk as she stared at the documents spread before her. She was supposed to be reviewing a merger proposal, but her thoughts kept drifting to the fractured state of her marriage. She felt stuck—tethered to a relationship that was more about appearances than connection. 

A knock at her door broke her reverie. She looked up to find Michael Lennox leaning against the frame, his smirk as casual as his tailored navy blazer. 

"Don't tell me you're working on a weekend," he teased, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. 

"Michael," Quinn said, her lips curving into a small smile despite herself. "What are you doing here?" 

"Saving you from yourself," he replied, placing a coffee cup on her desk. "Thought you might need this." 

She accepted the coffee gratefully, taking a sip as he sat down across from her. 

"You look like you've been burning the midnight oil," Michael observed, his tone softening. "When was the last time you took a break?" 

Quinn shrugged. "Work helps me... focus." 

Michael raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like code for avoiding something—or someone." 

Quinn's smile faded, but she didn't deny it. 

"Come on," Michael said, leaning forward. "Step away from this office for a bit. Let's get some fresh air. Lunch is on me." 

She hesitated, glancing at the paperwork on her desk. But the thought of staying cooped up all day felt unbearable. Finally, she nodded. "Alright. Lunch sounds good." 

Lunch turned into an impromptu outing. After their meal, Michael suggested a walk through the park, where they strolled past blooming flowers and the gentle hum of families enjoying the day. He led her to a small gallery tucked away on a quiet street, where they admired abstract paintings and sculptures, their laughter echoing through the halls. 

"You're different out here," Michael remarked as they sat in a cozy corner of a café later that afternoon. 

"Different?" Quinn asked, stirring her coffee. 

He nodded, his gaze steady. "Happier. More... you." 

Quinn's smile faltered slightly, but she quickly recovered. "Maybe it's because out here, I'm not Mrs. Langston. I'm just... me." 

"Then you should spend more time out here," Michael said softly. 

Quinn didn't respond, but the warmth in his words stayed with her. 

Back at the Langston mansion, Leo was seething. Quinn had been coming home later and later, often skipping dinner altogether. When she was home, she was distracted, her attention fixed on her phone. 

That morning, as they sat across from each other at the breakfast table, Leo's patience reached its breaking point. 

Quinn chuckled softly at her phone screen, her fingers dancing over the keypad as she typed a message. 

"What's so funny?" Leo asked, his voice sharp. 

Quinn glanced up, startled. "It's nothing." She placed her phone face-down on the table and took a sip of her coffee. 

"If it's nothing, why don't you put the phone away for once?" he said, his tone laced with irritation. 

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she replied evenly, picking up her phone again. 

Leo's jaw tightened. He didn't respond, but his mind raced with questions—and an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. 

By mid-afternoon, he couldn't take it anymore. He left the mansion, dialing Sophia's number as he stepped into his car. 

Hours later, Quinn returned home to the sound of laughter. As she stepped into the living room, she saw Sophia lounging on the sofa, a glass of wine in hand. Leo sat across from her, a faint smirk on his face as they chatted. 

"Quinn," Sophia greeted with a saccharine smile. "Leo invited me over for the weekend. I hope you don't mind." 

Quinn's chest tightened, but she kept her composure. "Of course," she said coolly, her gaze flicking to Leo. "Make yourself at home." 

Without another word, she turned and headed upstairs, her pulse quickening with every step. 

Once inside her room, Quinn paced the floor, her emotions swirling between anger and hurt. She wasn't going to let Leo's actions shake her. Instead, she picked up her phone and called Michael. 

"Quinn," he answered after a few rings, his voice warm. "What's going on?" 

"Can you come over?" she asked, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. 

Michael hesitated. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes," she said firmly. "I need you here." 

Michael arrived within the hour, his presence a welcome relief. He walked straight to Quinn's room, where she greeted him with a grateful smile. 

"Rough night?" he asked, his voice light as he took a seat on her bed. 

"You could say that," Quinn replied, sitting beside him. 

They talked and laughed, their conversation easy and unguarded. 

Downstairs, Leo sat in the living room with Sophia, but his attention kept drifting upstairs. When he got up to fetch some water from the kitchen, he froze at the sound of Quinn's laughter drifting through the halls. 

His curiosity—and frustration—got the better of him. Quietly, he approached her room and peered inside through the slightly ajar door. His jaw tightened at the sight of Michael sitting on the bed, his presence far too familiar for Leo's liking. 

Fury boiled in his chest, but he stormed back to the living room, where Sophia was waiting. 

"What's wrong?" Sophia asked, noticing his expression. 

"Get out," Leo barked, his tone sharp. 

Sophia blinked in shock. "Excuse me?" 

"I said get out," he repeated, his voice rising. 

Sophia stood, her confusion quickly giving way to anger. "You're unbelievable, Leo." 

But he didn't respond. He simply waited as she gathered her things and left, slamming the door behind her. 

A few minutes later, Quinn walked Michael to the door, their goodbye filled with easy smiles and laughter. 

When she returned to her room, Leo was waiting. His expression was dark, his posture tense. 

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, grabbing her arm and pushing her into the room. 

Quinn stumbled, her eyes widening. "Leo, what are you—" 

"Do you enjoy it?" he growled, his hand tightening on her arm. "Spending time with him? Laughing with him? Do you like rubbing it in my face?" 

Quinn's voice trembled, but she refused to back down. "Yes," she said, meeting his gaze. "I do." 

Leo's fury exploded. He shoved her away, his voice rising. "You're mine, Quinn. You bear my name. You don't have the right to go out with any man." 

Quinn steadied herself, her voice sharp. "And what about you, Leo? Inviting Sophia into our home? Parading her around like she belongs here?" 

"That's none of your business," he snapped, his tone dismissive. 

Quinn's voice broke. "How can you say that? You don't care about this marriage, but the moment I take control of my own life, it's a problem?" 

Leo didn't respond. Instead, he stormed out of the room, leaving Quinn alone on the floor, tears streaming down her face.