She doesn’t suspect anything, does she?
I left no traces. I never do.
Especially not after her reaction to the scent on my jacket the day of Alicia’s ballet recital. At first, I found it almost endearing. Proof that, after all these years, she can still feel jealous of me. But when I saw how intent she was on uncovering the truth, I had no choice but to redirect her attention.
That day, I didn’t touch Maya. I didn’t let her touch me, either—not even when she tried, while we were wrapping up and going over contract drafts. I kept my distance, deliberately. I’d already told her I’d be at her apartment the next day, a Saturday, when fewer contracts competed for my attention. I told myself I could afford those hours before going home.
It wasn’t weakness. I was the one setting boundaries. She was the one testing them.
I had to remind myself it was Maya who handed me my suit jacket from where it hung in my office before I left for the recital. I’ll need to tell her to change perfumes, or stop wearing them altogether. One trace is all it takes, and I can’t afford another close call.
Yesterday, I let jealousy get the better of me.
Maybe it was the way Ceci seemed distant, her only genuine smile reserved for Santoro. I let it gnaw at me, slowly, until it consumed everything else. Santoro isn’t the first man to look at her that way, and he won’t be the last. But I’ve never reacted like this before—because, deep down, I know Ceci would never cross that line. Not my Ceci.
Still, I lost my head. I let baseless jealousy take over and nearly brought everything crashing down. I can’t believe how reckless I was.
It’s handled now. Contained.
I had to appease Maya, use the right words until she finally swallowed the pill. I wouldn’t have forced her, but I wasn’t leaving that apartment until she did. Persuasion is a method; people bend when the argument is right. I wasn’t about to relyon her assurance that she was on birth control, and I certainly wasn’t counting on her taking it correctly.
I’d done my research. Even if she was already on the pill, the additional dose would only cause minor side effects, a brief hormonal overload. My work has taught me never to let chance dictate outcomes, never to tolerate variables that increase the risk of failure. Variables have to be eliminated.
When I left Maya’s apartment, the weight lifted cleanly from my shoulders. The variable was gone. The problem no longer existed.
I didn’t get home until after three in the morning. I put my tuxedo in the wash, showered in the downstairs bathroom, then slipped into bed beside Ceci. She was sleeping soundly, not even stirring when I pulled her into my arms.
When I woke, she was already gone. I found her finishing breakfast and got nothing more than a kiss on the cheek. She seemed distracted, didn’t even ask what time I’d come home.
She’s been in the sunroom for hours now, buried in her new article. I tried to coax her upstairs to lie with me, but she said she needed more time. It’s past midnight, and she still hasn’t come up. I can’t fall asleep without her.
A few minutes later, the bedroom door opens slowly. I smile—she looks almost surprised to find me awake.
“I couldn’t sleep without you in my arms,” I say, still smiling.
She walks toward the bathroom with her back to me. “I’m going to get ready for bed. I’ll be right back.”
Nearly half an hour passes before Ceci slips beneath the covers. I pull her close. She stiffens.
My brow tightens. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. My shoulders are sore from all those hours writing and researching.”
I kiss her forehead. “Want me to massage them?”
“No, thank you. I just want to sleep.”
I make slow circles on her shoulders until sleep takes me.
When I wake again, she’s on her side of the bed, turned away from me.
I find myself rereading the same paragraphs again and again, eyes on the proposal, thoughts fixed on Ceci. I can’t shake the sense that something is off with her, that I’m missing a detail I should already understand.
Three soft knocks sound at the door.
Maya comes in without waiting. When she stops beside my desk, she leans in, holding out the tablet with the latest report I asked for. I try to focus, force my attention to the numbers and charts, but my gaze betrays me. Keeps drifting to her mouth.
A thought slips in, unwelcome but insistent… I could let her. Just this once. Just enough to take the edge off.
