“How are you so sure?” I question, side-eyeing him.

“Griffin, I’ve been doing this all my life,” he laughs. “Trust me, this will be handled.”

I smirk at him, making my way towards his door. Gripping the doorknob, I say, “Well, just make sure you get it to me as soon as possible. In the meantime I’ll try to occupy her.” I pause on twisting the doorknob, narrowing my eyes back at him. “If you’re so damn good at what you do, why the hell can’t you find me a loop in Jenkins’s contract?”

He holds his hands out in an innocent state and shrugs. “I’ve read that thing forwards and backwards. The man has some pretty strong, smart lawyers. Trying to challenge it will only make you lose everything, Griffin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, pulling the door ajar. “I’ve heard that one over and over again.”

“Hey,” he calls, and I pause. “What’s the girls name anyway, if you don’t mind me asking?”

I sigh, and with defeat, I say, “Angelina Clark. But don’t get used to it. Her name won’t be of much use after this is over.”

I intentionally work all day, though I can’t exactly concentrate.

During my three conference meetings this afternoon and this morning I kept spacing out, leaving Kelly to fill in answers for me and then later on ask me if I was okay.

I told him that I am okay, but now I regret being absentminded so many times because this is his fourth time coming into my office to ask me something pointless. I know all he’s really doing is checking up on me.

Without me, he has no boss, which means he has no job. No one else will hire Kelly because he’s extremely eccentric.

He holds extraordinary respect for me, and I him, but I think only I would accept his revolving hair color, his hoop nose piercing, and his painted nails.

I find him unique. Not only that, but he reminds me of my baby brother, Walter, who just so happens to be on the flamboyant side too.

I take no offense to him or Kelly because, ironically, they have bigger balls than me for being so proud of who they really are.

“Would you like me to get you some coffee or anything, sir?” Kelly asks from the door. “I was just going to take my lunch break. I can run and grab you a cup.”

He folds his fingers in front of him, somewhat edgy.

“Uh, yeah… sure, Kelly. That’d be great. Thanks.” He nods and walks out of the room, shutting my door behind him.

When he’s gone, I sigh and sit back in my seat, spinning around and facing the open window. The same window Angelina stared out of pretty much the whole time she was in my office the very first day I met her.

I can’t believe her, and right now I don’t know whether I should consider her one clever-ass woman, or one audacious, backstabbing bitch.

My hand comes to my chin and I fold my fingers into a fist, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair. My hand keeps my head upright, and I try to fight the shadow of gloom cloaking my emotions, but I can’t.

I thought she was different.

Better.

A little more considerate than the woman I deal with at home on a daily basis, but I think I’d much rather deal with a neglectful woman than a woman that will place a dagger in my back without thinking of how I’d feel.

My computer makes a chiming noise.

An email.

I turn in my seat and spot Angelina’s name now on the screen.

Angelina Clark: I think you should come again tonight. That would be really nice.

I don’t respond for a while. How can she be so playful? How she can still try and fuck is beyond me. I respond an hour later to make it seem like I’m busy.

Griffin Boyd: I wish I could. Lots of work with this new client. As soon as I can grab a slot of free time, have her ready for me.

It takes everything in me not to delete my last sentence. She doesn’t deserve my cock. Not anymore.

Angelina Clark: Oh, I will. Whatever you want, right?

Griffin Boyd: Right. Whatever I want. Always whatever I want.

But is it?

Something tells me it has never been about what I truly want—that this whole time it has been all about her and no one else.

I arrive home a little after midnight, physically and mentally worn.

All I want to do is take a hot shower and sleep my terrible bad day off. I walk up the staircase, briefcase clutched in hand. I normally leave it in the kitchen, but I’m so fucking tired that I can’t even think straight.

I turn and enter the bedroom, dropping my briefcase in the corner.

“Colette?” I call.

The bathroom door is closed, a spill of light seeping through the cracks of the door. Her study’s light wasn’t on when I passed by the door. She must be in here.

“Yes?” she responds from behind the door.

“Just seeing if you were around.” I undo my tie, tossing it on the arm of the chair in the corner of the room.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I kick off my leather shoes while unbuttoning the first few buttons at my collar. The door creaks open behind me, and I hear her shuffle out.

“How was work?” Colette asks… and I frown.

“Since when do you care about how work was?” I question, reaching down to unbutton my pants.

“I just want to know.”

Finding that unbelievably strange, I glance over my shoulder to meet her eyes, only I can’t make it to her eyes because on full fucking display is her nakedness. Those perfect C-cup breasts, taut pink nipples, and a freshly waxed pussy.

Shit.

I feel like a dog drooling over a fucking steak. I see now she doesn’t care how my day was. The question was supposed to be a distraction. Slowly rising, I stare ahead at Colette. My wife… my wife who is naked and wearing makeup and even a smile on her lips.

I try to form words, but she walks ahead in strappy black leather heels, shaking her head as she meets in front of me.

Her finger presses on the center of my lips, and she smiles up at me as she says, “No, no. You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay. I know. I know this is weird and so not like me, but…” She pauses and sighs. “Well, I’ve just been really horny lately, babe. And it’s been so long since we’ve actually fucked, you know? Like old times?”

Even her voice sounds different, but her pleading doesn’t stop me from hardening in my slacks. The tip of my cock rubs along my zipper, increasing in size and length.

She presses her chest onto mine, one of her hands sliding down to slip into my unbuttoned pants, beneath my boxers, and cup my balls. Her hands feel different, but I assume it’s from all the work she does with them now. The art, dancing, all of it.

“Fuck,” I groan, tensing. Throbbing.

I’m so fucking swollen for her, and she takes joy in that—the fact that she can still get my dick hard. Her amusement is all over her face, deep in those seductive green eyes.

She fondles my sack through and I stare down at her, heat building between us. Her nipples are hard, and after aching for this woman, my fucking wife (I still can’t believe I’m saying that) I snatch her up into my arms and drop her on the bed.

I land above her, thrusting between her legs, groaning as she moans and smiles.

Immediately, her lips crush mine as her hands work hard to shove my pants down. I lift my hips, aiding her in getting my briefs to the floor. When they are gone, I waste no time.