Playing House

Grant's POV

The first week was torture.

Naomi threw herself into the role of a devoted wife with the kind of energy she usually reserved for red carpets. She cooked breakfast, burnt eggs and undercooked bacon that I ate without complaint. She rearranged the living room furniture, talked about date nights and weekend getaways and all the things we had never done in four years of marriage. I played along and smiled when I was supposed to and nodded when I was supposed to nod. I kissed her cheek and held her hand and pretended I wasn't counting the minutes until I could escape to my study. But I couldn't escape Finn.

He was everywhere. In the hallway, brushing past me with a whispered "Mr. Grant" that made my blood run hot. At the dinner table, across from me, his green eyes catching mine over Naomi's chatter. In the garden, shirtless, tanning in the afternoon sun like he knew I was watching him from the window.

I was watching. I couldn't stop watching. He had done something to me, that night in the bathroom, he'd unlocked something I'd buried so deep and convinced myself it didn't exist. I had spent twenty years pretending I was someone I wasn't, married a woman I didn't love. I'd told myself it was worth it, the money, the status, the respect. But Finn had looked at me like I was worth more than all of it. And now I couldn't unsee it.

Naomi noticed something was off.

She wasn't stupid, she was just self-absorbed, but even she could sense the distance between us. She'd reach for my hand, and I'd pull away. She'd kiss my cheek, and I'd flinch. She'd ask about my day, and I'd give her one-word answers.

"Grant." She cornered me in the kitchen one evening, her arms crossed, her painted lips pressed into a thin line. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing. Work is stressful."

"Work has always been stressful. This is different."

I turned away, busying myself with a glass of water. "I'm fine, Naomi. Really."

She studied me for a long moment. Then her face softened, and she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around my waist. "I know I've been absent," she murmured against my chest. "I know I haven't been the wife you deserve. But I'm here now. I want to make it work. Please let me."

I stood there, frozen, her body pressed against mine. I should have felt something. She was my wife, she was beautiful and she was offering me a second chance. But all I could think about was Finn. His lips. His eyes and the way he'd looked at me.

I pulled away gently. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

Naomi's face flickered with something, hurt? Suspicion? before she smoothed it into a smile. "Of course. Rest well."

I walked up the stairs, my chest tight. I walked passed Finn's room and the door was cracked open. I should have kept walking, i should have gone to my room and locked the door and buried myself in work until I forgot he existed. But I stopped.

I pushed the door open.

Finn was sitting on his bed, a book in his hands. He looked up when I entered, and there it was, that hunger. He set the book aside slowly, deliberately.

"Mr. Grant." His voice was soft. Too soft. "Can't sleep?"

"I….I was just checking on you." The lie tasted like ash.

Finn stood. He walked toward me, slow and unhurried, like a predator circling its prey. He stopped inches away. Close enough that I could smell him, something clean and warm

"Checking on me?" He tilted his head, a smirk playing at his lips. "Or checking me out?"

I should have left. I should have turned around and walked out but I stayed instead.

"Finn." My voice was strained. "What happened in the bathroom…."

"Was the best thing that's ever happened to me." He finished the sentence, his green eyes locked on mine. "And don't pretend you didn't feel it too. I saw your face and i heard your voice."

I swallowed hard. "It doesn't matter what I wanted. It was wrong."

"Then why are you here?" He stepped closer. His chest was almost touching mine. "Why are you in my room, Mr. Grant? Why are you looking at me like you want to devour me?"

My control snapped.

I grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him. It was nothing like the bathroom. That had been desperate, frantic, stolen but this was deliberate and consuming. I kissed him like I was drowning and he was air. I kissed him like I'd been starving for years and he was the first meal I'd ever tasted. Finn made a sound against my lips, low and his hands fisted in my shirt. He pulled me closer, closer, until there was no space left between us.

I pulled back, breathing hard. "This doesn't change anything."

He laughed, breathless and wild. "It changes everything."

I left his room that night with my heart pounding and my hands shaking. I walked into my bedroom, Naomi was already asleep, her back to me and i stood in the dark, staring at nothing. What was I doing? I was forty years old. I was a husband that had responsibilities, a reputation, a life I'd spent decades building and I was throwing it all away for a nineteen year old boy.

But he wasn't just a boy. He was Finn and I couldn't let him go. I lay down beside Naomi, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of her breathing. My mind was elsewhere, in the room next door, with green eyes and messy hair and a smile that made me forget everything I was supposed to be.

I didn't sleep that night, and in the darkness, I made a decision. I was going to have him. I didn't know how or when, but I was going to have him, whatever it cost.