Chapter 1
978words
All for one reason—to be closer to his world, to glimpse him every day.
As a fresh hire, they stationed me in a cubicle far from the executive floor.
On those rare occasions we shared an elevator or crossed paths in the cafeteria, I'd hurry past with my head down, terrified he might recognize me.
The women in my department constantly huddled together, whispering about him.
I'd hover nearby, all ears but never contributing a word.
"Did you see Mitchell's bespoke suit today? Straight out of GQ, I swear."
"Thirty-five, filthy rich, and gorgeous to boot. And his wife's what—still finishing her degree?"
"No way. Seriously?"
"God, some girls have all the damn luck…"
On my twenty-fifth birthday…
Adrian Mitchell dropped to one knee beneath a cascade of fireworks.
"Victoria," he whispered, "I'll build us a sanctuary—a place that belongs only to us."
When that platinum band slid onto my finger, I broke down completely.
I gave him everything—my heart, my soul, my body.
After a whirlwind year of dating, we made it official.
Sweet. Thrilling.
Raw. Passionate.
His love operated like a Swiss watch—precise, reliable, never missing a beat.
If I hadn't taken this job at his company…
Well, I might still be living in that gilded cage he built with his lies, singing pretty songs for my keeper.
Sophia Blackwood.
Adrian Mitchell's executive assistant.
All curves and confidence—the quintessential power woman.
And the one who'd been in the trenches with him from day one.
Not a single decision—major or trivial—happened without her fingerprints on it.
Her signature carried the same weight as his in most circles.
So naturally…
Before news of Adrian Mitchell's marriage went public…
Everyone at the firm assumed Sophia was the unofficial Mrs. Mitchell.
I'd even overheard directors saying…
"Sophia's his real partner. That mystery wife of his probably thinks a P&L is some fancy cocktail."
"When Mitchell nearly lost everything in '19, guess who pulled all-nighters with him? Not the wife."
"That kind of bond—hell, no piece of paper can touch that."
"Mark my words—once the honeymoon phase fizzles out, he'll upgrade to the model he test-drove first."
I'd laugh these rumors off.
After all, Adrian and I couldn't keep our hands off each other.
Every night, without fail, our bodies spoke what words couldn't.
Until that project celebration dinner changed everything.
Sophia, cheeks flushed with champagne, raised her glass toward Adrian Mitchell with a predatory smile.
She played it off as banter.
But she was forcing his hand, demanding he choose sides.
"Adrian," she purred, dropping the formality, "now that we've crushed this deal, don't you think I deserve that extended vacation?"
"We can't have certain people spending cold nights alone, can we?"
The room froze.
Adrian's knuckles went white around his glass, his silence deafening.
Sophia leaned in, her eyes like daggers.
"Or perhaps you just can't function without me?"
Ten excruciating seconds passed before Adrian looked up, his voice a dangerous whisper.
"Yes."
His eyes locked with hers, filled with naked longing.
"I can't do without you."
"The company needs you. And I…" he swallowed hard, "I need you too."
Sophia's lips curved victoriously as she drained her glass and sauntered away.
The onlookers exchanged knowing glances.
Adrian shoved his chair back and stalked after her without a word.
Being the office nobody, I wasn't invited to their little victory party.
But Olivia, who'd been setting up the event, caught the whole thing on video and blasted it to our office gossip thread.
Olivia: [OMG you guys!!! Mitchell and Ice Queen are TOTALLY hooking up! Where'd they sneak off to?!]
My fingers trembled as I typed: [Probably just discussing some urgent business matter.]
[What "business" requires that bedroom voice and sneaking off together?]
[Girl, the sexual tension was THICK! Tonight they're definitely…]
I hammered at my keyboard: [Mitchell's a professional. He wouldn't cross that line.]
[Whatever helps you sleep at night, hun.]
[We'll know tomorrow by Sophia's walk of shame glow.]
Before I could process what she meant, my phone buzzed with Adrian's message.
"Vicky, emergency with the Singapore team. Need to handle it now."
"Don't wait up. Sleep well."
My heart plummeted.
I called him instantly.
Once. Twice. Three times. Straight to voicemail.
Just as I was about to throw my phone across the room, he picked up.
"Hello?"
His voice sounded strained, with what seemed like wind rushing in the background.
"Adrian, where are you?"
"What emergency?"
My voice cracked despite my best efforts.
He hesitated, his tone shifting to that patronizing calm he used with difficult clients.
"On the hotel rooftop. Emergency meeting with the team."
"Bad reception up here."
"Don't worry your pretty head. I'll be home when I'm done."
As he spoke, I heard it—a woman's soft, stifled moan floating through the receiver.
And the unmistakable sound of fabric scraping against a wall.
A sound I knew intimately.
The same sound my own clothes made when he pinned me against walls in our passionate encounters.
In that moment…
My entire world imploded silently.
I didn't need to scream for confirmation.
Reality had already bitch-slapped me with perfect clarity.
Fine.
Saved me the trouble of tears and pointless questions.
This marriage?
It died the moment he chased after her.
Summoning whatever dignity I had left, I steadied my voice.
"Sure. Take your time 'working.'"
Just as I moved to end the call, Adrian quickly added:
"Vicky, this project's heating up. Might need to travel for a bit. Take care of yourself, okay?"
His voice had that slight tremor it always got after sex.
That post-orgasm quiver I knew all too well.
This tiny detail…
One he probably didn't even realize I'd recognize.
Was he really handling an "emergency situation"?
Or was he handling Sophia?
I no longer gave a damn.
