"Rita, this is Maya Fisher, mytemporaryassistant."
The wordtemporaryhits me like a slap.
The woman smiles politely. "Rita Jones." She shakes my hand with effortless ease before excusing herself almost immediately.
Colin doesn't wait for her to be out of earshot before signaling for the check. We leave the restaurant in a suffocating silence, no explanation, no confrontation, not a single word. He doesn't even look at me.
The following section includes a brief instance of mild on-page cheating. It is part of the story’s journey, but this moment may be difficult for some readers. Please feel free to skip it if it feels overwhelming.
The silence in the elevator is suffocating. He says nothing, his gaze fixed straight ahead as the floors tick by. I know I overstepped, but seeing her hand on him—seeing her touch him like she had the right—made something in me snap.
I don’t understand why he’s this angry. We both know these trips are never strictly professional. Even on quick day trips, he always finds a way to have me. Everything felt fine. He wasn’t even this tense after the night he forgot the condom.
Just this past Tuesday—my twenty-sixth birthday—he sent roses and expensive chocolates to my door. At the office, he only offered a small, knowing smile when I thanked him, but that night, he came to see me. He was late, but I didn’t care. Having him there was enough.
He fucked me with a raw intensity that left no room for words.
Afterward, we shared a single glass of the champagne I’d bought for the occasion, and I tried to hold on to the moment, knowing he’d be heading home tohersoon after.
He doesn’t get it. I just want him.
All the coldness, the distance, the way he shuts me out—I’ve accepted it all. Not for the reasons I once told myself, but because when he touches me, the rest of the world stops. I know his behavior is about control. I’ve always known that. But if he’s following me into my room right now, even in this mood, it means he’s still under my spell. That he feels this thing between us just as strongly as I do.
I swipe the keycard and step inside. Colin follows, closing the door with a quiet, calculated care that feels more dangerous than a slam.
“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice is low, carrying a force that makes my skin prickle. “She could’ve been someonemy wife knows. Someone she sees every day. What do you think she saw? My assistant pawing at me?”
He exhales sharply. “She’s the daughter of one of our biggest investors.”
I look up at him through my lashes, softening my expression. "Forgive me? I promise it won't happen again."
"You can be damn sure it won't," he scoffs, turning his back to me. He stalks over to the floor-to-ceiling window, the city lights reflecting off his rigid silhouette.
I don’t argue. Instead, I begin to undress, slowly. I see his posture shift; I know he’s watching my reflection in the glass. Once I’m naked, I cross the room and slide between him and the window, framing myself against the skyline.
I spread my legs slightly, my fingers gliding down my stomach before dipping between my legs, gathering the wetness, then lifting them to his lips. I let him see exactly what he does to me. He doesn’t pull away. He opens his mouth and takes my fingers in, sucking slowly, his eyes fluttering shut.
“This is what you do to me,” I murmur.
I guide his hand down, pressing it to my pussy. He slides a finger inside me, tearing a gasp from my lips, but I don’t let him keep it there. I draw his wrist back to my mouth and taste myself from his skin, my eyes never leaving his, making sure he sees exactly what he’s done to me.
Lust finally eclipses the anger in his gaze. Colin seizes my hair in both hands and crashes his mouth onto mine. It’s a collision, not a kiss. When he breaks away to trail his lips down my neck, his voice is a jagged growl.
“You want to drive me insane.”
He bites and licks at my skin, his hands clamping onto my ass as he lifts me effortlessly. I wrap my legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carries me to the bed. He throws me back onto the mattress and strips with frantic, focused energy. He pulls a strip of condoms from his wallet and tosses them onto the sheets.
When he’s finally naked—stripped of the suit, the ego, and the distance—I watch him tear one open with his teeth.
“The lube’s in the nightstand drawer,” I say, my voice dropping into a low, suggestive purr.
He flashes me a wolfish smile… the kind that promises I won’t be walking straight tomorrow.
I lie awake in the dim light, watching Colin sleep. After I rode him—straddling him in reverse, my back to his chest—he didn’t hold me or show any kind of affection. He only waited for me to climb off before he stripped away the condom, rolled to his side, and drifted into silence.
This time felt different. He made me come just as hard as he always does, and he took his fill of my body with the same hunger, but the soul was missing. It wasn't that beautiful moment where he loses himself in me and forgets the world exists. Instead, it felt like he was using me to drown everything out… including me.
The next morning, when my alarm cuts through the silence, I wake to a cold, empty bed.
