A Rich Wife’s Lie

Chapter 4: A Rich Wife's Lie.

“Should I call security… or are you two just into weird foreplay?”

She turned to him, pulse hammering. Her mission was slipping through her fingers. And now, so was her control.

He leaned against the wall, eyes flicking between her and Nina.

She knew Cody wasn’t stupid. And he’d just seen too much.

Nina gave Cody a long, amused glance before gliding past him. “You Fontaine men are always interrupting things.” Her voice coiled like smoke as she whispered in Marilyn’s ear. “The Branch always keeps an eye on its thorns.”

She immediately vanished like a shadow, her heels echoing down the hall. Marilyn stood frozen, her wrist still burning from Nina’s nails.

Then Cody stepped closer, curious and sharp-eyed.

“Marilyn,” he said, voice slow and low, “you want to tell me why my father’s wife was cornered by a woman who looks like she runs a poison ring in Prague?”

Marilyn inhaled, gathering herself like a veil. No panic. No flinch. Just the tilt of her chin, the soft parting of her lips.

“She’s a specialist,” she said smoothly. “A discreet one.”

Cody’s brow arched.

“Specialist in what?” he asked, dragging his eyes down her body like he already knew she was lying.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Fertility.”

That made him blink.

She let that land, then added softly, “Victor wants a child. And I thought to myself, if I can’t give him that, what good am I?”

A beat passed.

Cody’s mouth opened like he had something to say but closed again.

Marilyn turned away, the sound of her heels echoing as she crossed the hallway. “I didn’t want anyone to know. Least of all him. So I asked her to come quietly.”

She stopped at the front of a door, pretending to watch her toenails peeking from her silver strapless sandals but aware of Cody’s eyes crawling up her spine.

“You happy now?” she asked without looking up.

But Cody wasn’t done.

“You think I’m stupid?” His voice was closer now. “She didn’t look like a fertility specialist. She looked like someone who carries body bags for fun.”

Marilyn smiled to herself.

She turned slowly. “A woman is allowed to have secrets, Cody.”

She stepped toward him, every inch controlled and every syllable emphasised.

“And I’d suggest you stop asking questions…” Her gaze dropped to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Unless you want to be one.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, not a smile. But with something darker.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured.

“I’m married,” she replied, brushing past him.

“Yeah,” he said, turning, “That doesn’t stop you from making me hard.”

She paused. The weight of Cody’s shameless words settled like dust.

“You made some comments about Victor earlier. What did you mean?”

Cody grinned, then ran a hand through his hair. “I said exactly what I said, sweetheart.”

“Don't play silly games with me, Cody.”

“Don't speak to me like a child, Marilyn. I'm the older one here.”

Their eyes locked. The hallway tightened around them.

The air around them thick with what wasn’t being said.

He stepped closer to her, invading her personal space.

“He took her from me. Just like he takes everything. But I don’t break like he does.” He paused, “I burn.”

A chill ran down Marilyn’s back as she stepped forward too. Their chests touching now.

“No wonder you can’t stop watching me,” she murmured.

This woman had settled in comfortably in every part of him. What was once a game to get back at his father had turned into something else.

Something raw and burning. Something Cody was finding difficult to stay away from.

“You see her in me,” she whispered. “And you hate that.”

“You're playing with fire, Marilyn.”

She leaned in, lips grazing the shell of his ear.

“Then burn with me, Cody.”

And with a slow, deliberate turn, she walked away, her heels echoing like countdowns.

Leaving him there.

Still hot and burning for her.

Her words echoed like a dare. A threat. A promise.

God, she was good.

Too good.

Victor’s wife. Victor’s property. Victor’s goddamn trophy.

But Cody couldn’t stop staring at the curve of her waist, the sway of her hips, the memory of that red lace gift clutched in his father's fist at breakfast the previous day.

She had played them both. And she was winning.

He leaned against the wall, dragging a hand through his hair, trying to force the blood out of where it was currently rushing to. His fists, his dick, his heart, all of it confused as hell.

How the hell had this become his life?

First, Dad steals my girlfriend.

Now he marries a woman who makes me want to sin in six languages.

Victor had a talent for collecting the things Cody wanted most. Not because he loved them but because he wanted to prove that he could take them.

And Marilyn? Marilyn was untouchable.

Which only made Cody want her more. He craved her body like air.

He didn’t believe that fertility bullshit for a second. That wasn’t a doctor.

But Marilyn had delivered the lie so well, so perfectly dressed in pain and performance, that even his suspicion wavered.

She's dangerous. And maybe that’s why he chose her.

She wasn’t here to be adored. She was here to destroy. He could see it now in her eyes, in her calculated grace, in the way she’d stood there while his father humiliated her over breakfast, and still walked away looking like she owned the fucking house.

She was fire.

And Cody had always loved playing with matches.

His phone vibrated in his hand. He opened the message and smirked.

It was his invite to the opening of “The Glass Room”

Victor would never expect to see him there. And he couldn't wait to see the look on Marilyn's face when he finally has her right where he has always wanted her.

Cornered.

He pushed off the wall, glancing down at the empty hallway she’d disappeared into.

Victor thought she was his. That wasn’t love. That was arrogance.

And arrogance was always the easiest thing to break.

Cody had never been good at letting go of what was stolen from him.

And Marilyn Fontaine?

She was about to find out just how obsessive a broken son could be.