Chapter 3 Just a Secretary

Everyone froze as if turned into ice, not daring to make a sound. They would never dare mock me in front of Cary.

I knew Cary—he could humiliate me, but that didn’t mean anyone could, not even his mother. I summed it up as a chauvinistic, perverse possessiveness.

Cary was tall; even in a suit his presence made the air hard to breathe. He filled the space like a beast. Rick’s face had gone the color of the dead.

“Cary, I was drunk. It was just a joke—” the man stammered.

“Cary? I don’t remember knowing you,” Cary’s voice vibrated from his chest, and Rick immediately dropped to his knees.

“Mr. Grant, I apologize. I was stupid, pathetic; how dare I humiliate your wife.” Rick begged.

“Apologize to my wife, not to me,” Cary said coldly.

“Mrs. Grant, I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?” Rick looked at me; the wound on his head needed attention. I didn’t press him further.

“Just go,” I said.

But Cary grabbed Rick’s collar again. “Listen. This is the last warning. From today on, I don’t want to see your face in this city. Do you understand?”

Rick nodded frantically and stumbled backward until he almost ran out.

Seeing Rick like that, nobody else was in the mood to party; everyone was frightened and left. Portia gripped my arm—she knew about my separation from Cary and that it couldn’t be made public for another thirty days. She couldn’t just drag me out.

“Do you want to go?” she asked, looking at me.

I nodded and then turned to Cary. “Thank you. I’ll go home now,” I said gratefully. Cary was an asshole, that I knew, but he also helped when needed. If I hadn’t fallen in love with him, this would have been the perfect ending.

“What are you doing here?” Cary grabbed me, then glanced at my outfit. “Why are you dressed like this?”

Dressed like this? I looked down—just a tight dress, shoulders and arms exposed. The only excessive thing was the way my curves showed, like a second skin. Portia had even teased that it wasn’t proper club attire.

“I don’t recall signing a curfew agreement,” I said sarcastically. “Everyone else in this club is more revealing than I am.”

“You’re my wife. You shouldn’t be at a club,” Cary said coldly.

“Newsflash—we have an agreement. I’m your secret wife; no one knows me except your high-society friends,” I shot back.

Cary tightened his grip on my wrist. I frowned at him. Suddenly I didn’t want to give in. I knew if I told him, “Okay, I was wrong,” he would let me go, and I’d get my payout faster.

That thought left a hollow in me. I hated that feeling. “Or do you want to make me publicly your wife?” I ground out.

The flame in Cary’s eyes could have burned me to ashes.

“Cary, what’s going on? My brother is waiting for you.” A gentle female voice suddenly cut through the tension.

The woman came over and slipped her arm through Cary’s. Her gaze paused on my face with a hint of puzzlement.

“She’s nobody important—just my secretary. I saw her being bothered and came to help,” Cary said, releasing me.

I felt Portia’s look could kill. I met her eyes. I suddenly didn’t want to be an invisible wife anymore.

I collapsed into Cary’s arms. “Boss, I’m dizzy. Can you take me to the hospital?”

I saw the warning in Cary’s eyes, but boldly shoved that woman aside. I recognized her—not a gold digger, but Vanessa, the sister of the lead on a major project our company had recently partnered with.

She was an important client.

I buried my face in Cary’s chest. “Really—I need emergency care.”

I figured Cary would push me away the next second, but unexpectedly he pushed Vanessa aside and held me instead. “Tell your brother I need to take my secretary to the hospital.”

“What?! No! Cary?!” Vanessa shrieked. “You know how important this cooperation is!”

But Cary ignored her and led me into the elevator. His heart pounded fast; I didn’t know what he intended.

I was frightened; I rarely angered him. As soon as we were in the elevator I struggled to get down.

Cary slammed me against the elevator wall in anger. “Listen, I know you’re still sulking about the office incident. I can allow it—let’s call it a little kink between us.”

He bit my ear as he spoke. I didn’t dare move; I curled my body as small as possible. Then, suddenly, Cary pushed my skirt up.

“Are you crazy? There’s surveillance!” I screamed and grabbed his large hand. Although I knew Cary would handle the surveillance, public exposure still terrified me.

“You’re the crazy one. You stalk me and then come here to catch me in the act,” he sneered.

What? I was just here to indulge with Portia. How was I to know he would bring his new mistress here? I shouted, “I didn’t! Why would I do that? I don’t love you.”

The air went suddenly silent. Cary’s gaze turned ice-cold, different from his earlier fury—like my words had wounded his pride.

I don’t love him—wasn’t that what he wanted?

Suddenly the elevator dinged and the doors opened again. Cary blocked me; I looked down and saw a pair of well-made black leather shoes, black suit pants wrapping long straight legs, big hands hanging beside pockets. Cary nodded politely at him. “I have to go ahead.”

Clearly a big shot—someone of equal standing.

I kept my head down and followed Cary out. I didn’t dare linger, but I still felt the man’s contemptuous gaze, as if I were nothing but a cheap whore.

I was indeed—no man would humiliate his wife in an elevator.

Once inside Cary’s car, the driver discreetly raised the partition. I folded myself up as small as possible, as far from Cary the bastard as I could.

The quiet was broken only by my breathing. I refused to speak.

Cary suddenly sighed. “I’m going to discuss the project. You storming into the club and making a scene doesn’t help—you look especially foolish, ugly, like a shrew, don’t you think?”

I wanted to retort, but I thought of the divorce pending. No need to explain. “Anything else?” I asked, wanting to know what other insults he had lined up.

“If you want to stay with me long-term, stop these unnecessary suspicions. I don’t have time to care for your emotions,” Cary said, frowning.

“Okay. Anything else?” I continued to play obedient.

Cary lunged forward, grabbed my chin, and said coldly, “Hyacinth, do you know how unbearable you look right now?”

It felt like a bullet to the heart. Tears almost spilled. I clamped my palms together hard. A tiny smile curved my mouth. “You know, there’s a way to make you not find me unbearable.”

“What?!” Cary’s dangerous eyes narrowed again.

“Divorce me.” I looked up and met his gaze.