“Nina!” I hear my name being drawn out by one of my friends.

“Jacqueline, don’t you look lovely,” I say as she leans in to kiss my cheek.

“Well, I can’t even compete with you. Gorgeous as always,” she says before turning her attention to Bennett and blushing as she says hello. I’m sure she just soaked her panties as well. She’s a desperate flirt. Her husband is a sorry excuse for a man. But that husband is a business partner with Bennett, so I put up with his misogynistic bullshit and feel sorry for the twit that he married. She’s been trying to get into my husband’s pants since I first met her. I’ve never said a word because desperation is not something that Bennett is attracted to.

While Jacqueline flirts with my husband, I scan the room. Everyone dressed in their finest, drinking and socializing. I turn away from the mindless people and take in the sleek, modern design of the hotel. A minimalistic fitting but clearly bathed in money. As I float my gaze around the room, I land on a pair of eyes staring at me. Eyes that catch my interest. Standing in a small group, not paying attention to a single person around him, a man—a startlingly attractive man—is watching me. Even as I look at him from across the room, he doesn’t divert his lock on me; he merely cocks a small grin before taking a sip out of his highball. When a slender blonde strokes his arm, the contact is lost. Impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit, he has a slightly uncaring look about him. His hair is styled loosely, as if he just ran his hands through the thick locks and said fuck it, and his defined jaw is covered in day-old stubble. But that suit . . . yeah, that suit is clearly covering a body that is well maintained. The lines and cuts hug his form, accentuating broad shoulders that V down to slender hips.

“Honey?”

Pulled away from my lingering eye, I turn to my husband’s curious look and notice that Jacqueline is no longer by his side.

“What’s got your attention?” he asks.

“Oh. I’m just taking everything in. This place is amazing, huh?”

“I was asking about the party, but I guess you were zoned out. So what do you think?”

“Yes, I agree. This would be a great venue and a nice change of scenery,” I tell him, and when I do, I see fuck it guy approaching. He has an ease with his stride, and the other women in the room see it too.

“You must be Bennett,” he says in a silky, rough Scottish brogue that’s reminiscent of his father’s accent as he reaches out his hand to my husband. “I’m Declan McKinnon. My father speaks very highly of you.”

“Good to finally meet you, Declan. I haven’t seen Cal here tonight,” Bennett says as he shakes fuck it guy’s hand, who now has a name.

“He’s isn’t here. He had to fly to Miami to take care of some business.”

“That old bastard never stops moving, does he?” Bennett laughs and Declan joins, shaking his head, saying, “Sixty years old and still barking orders to anyone who will listen. Hell, even to those who won’t.”

When Declan looks over to me, my husband apologizes and says, “Declan, this is my wife, Nina.”

Taking my hand, he leans in and kisses my cheek before pulling back and complimenting, “It’s a pleasure. I couldn’t help but take notice across the room earlier.” Looking at Bennett, he adds, “You’re a lucky man.”

“I tell her that every day.”

I wear my smile as a good wife should. I’ve been doing this for years, numb to the ridiculous accolades these men tend to throw around in their lame attempts at gentlemanly ways. I can see that Declan makes no attempts though. His shoulders are loose. He’s relaxed.

“This place is quite an accomplishment. Congratulations,” Bennett tells him.

“Thank you. It only took a few years off my life, but,” he says as he takes in the surroundings, “she’s exactly how I envisioned her,” before bringing his eyes back to me.

This guy is outright flirting, and I’m surprised when it slides past Bennett as he continues in conversation.

“I was just telling Nina that your hotel would provide a perfect backdrop for our year-end party that we throw for our friends.”

I butt in with a smirk, saying, “It’s a once-a-year event where my husband releases the reins, allowing me to create an event to accentuate his financial power, simply to remind everyone who’s on top. A penis extender, if you will, and he’s due for his annual visit.” I tease with a tender femininity that has the boys laughing in amusement at my tart words. I laugh along with them as I shoot my husband a flirty wink.

“She’s got a sweet mouth on her,” Declan says.

“You have no clue,” Bennett responds as he looks down at me with his grin. “But despite what she says, she loves planning this yearly engagement, and I get a thrill out of watching her spend all of my hard-earned money. But we’re in a bind because the venue we selected a few months back is now under renovation and the space won’t be ready in time.”

“When does this event take place?”

“It’s a New Year’s Eve ball,” he answers.

“Sounds like that is doable,” Declan says as he takes out a business card from inside his suit jacket, and instead of handing it to Bennett, he hands it to me, saying, “Since it seems you’re the woman I’ll be answering to, here are my contact numbers.”

Taking the card from between his fingers, I watch as he turns and tells my husband, “I’ll be sure to oversee the planning to ensure that Nina gets everything she requests.”

“Looks like I’ll be writing a big check this year,” my husband jokes. “Well, Declan, it was great to finally put a face to the name, but if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to show off my wife on the dance floor.”

When Bennett leads us to the full dance floor and wraps me in his arms, I take the opportunity to peek over his shoulder to find Declan watching me intently. This guy makes no qualms about his interest, and a pang of elation thrums inside me as my husband slowly moves me with ease.

We continue to spend the evening mingling and visiting with friends and business associates before we retire for the evening and head back to The Legacy. Stepping off the elevator and into the penthouse that Bennett owned when I first met him four years ago, we walk through the darkened living room. The only light is from the moon that’s casting its glow behind the snow-filled clouds outside the floor to ceiling windows that span across the two walls. I enter the master suite behind Bennett, and as I slip off my heels, I look up to see that he has already undone his bowtie and it hangs around the collar of his white tuxedo shirt, which he is now unbuttoning.

His eyes are rapt as they move down my body. I stand there as he slowly approaches and then slides his hands along the length of my sides until he finds himself on his knees in front of me. He runs his hands up my legs through the opening of the slit in my dress, and as soon as his fingers hit my panties, I turn it off.

The steel cage wraps around my heart and before my stomach can turn, I shut down.

Numb.

Vacant.

He drags my panties down my legs and I step out of them before I feel the warmth of his tongue when he slides it along the seam of my pussy, but I am able to keep myself from entertaining the slightest impulse of intimacy. I’ve been sleeping with my husband for years, but I refuse to allow the pleasure I lead him to believe I’m experiencing.

Why?

I’ll tell you why.

Because I hate him.

He thinks, in this moment, that we’re making love. His cock fills me slowly as I lie beneath him. Arms laced around his neck. Legs spread open wide, inviting him in deeper as he makes a meal out of my tits. He believes everything I want him to. He always has. But this is merely a game for me. A game he foolishly has fallen into. He never questions my love for him, and now my body writhes underneath his and moans in mock pleasure as he comes hard, jerking his hips into me, telling me how much he loves me, and I give his words right back.