Chapter five

I picked up my phone from the blotter. No missed calls. No texts. Not even an automated alert from Arthur. He hadn't called once to ask why his wife was still at work hours after the building had cleared out. I wanted to call him, but more than that, I wanted to convince myself he was going to call me.

"Still checking it?"

Stefan settled into his chair, going through the folders smoothly. He had shed his jacket hours ago, his sleeves pushed past his elbows.

"Just checking the time. It's getting really late," I said, setting the phone face-down with a dull bang.

"My father loves collecting," Stefan murmured. "He’ll collect every beautiful piece of art, no matter how expensive. He just has to have it. After being away for years, I thought the old man might have changed."

I raised an eyebrow. "What are you implying?"

He scoffed, leaning back. "Just saying!"

"I didn't ask for your opinion" Without waiting for him to elaborate, I pushed ahead. "Since we are sharing opinions, I notice every minute you aren't where you're supposed to be. Shouldn't you be on some concert tour singing your lungs out? Why are you here? Why come back to the one thing you ran away from?"

Before he could answer, Arthur walked in, dressed in a tailored brown overcoat. He paused when he saw us—me sitting at the cluttered desk, and Stefan leaning head-to-head with me, his hands planted flat on the desk.

Stefan straightened up slowly, unhurried, his posture instantly shifting into something strictly professional as he slid his hands into his pockets.

"There you are," Arthur said, walking toward the desk with smooth, unbothered strides, opening his arms to embrace me. He didn't look at the spreadsheets spread across the desk, nor did he acknowledge the thick tension in the room. "I've got a surprise for you."

He began leading me out of the office. "The driver has been waiting downstairs for twenty minutes. You should have told me you were working late."

"I was helping Stefan review the hospital allocations," I said, my voice steadying as I smoothed down my skirt.

"The foundation can wait until morning," Arthur said flatly.

He reached out, taking my wrist, and pulled me gently toward his side. It was clearly not an affectionate gesture; it was an act of reclamation. He tucked my arm through his, resting his hand over mine. His fingers were cool against my skin.

"Come along. We have the council gala tomorrow night, and I need you rested."

Stefan’s gaze dropped to where Arthur’s hand covered mine. I saw the falseness behind his smile.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Sterling," Stefan said, his voice dripping with subtle malice. "It was really nice working with you. I learned a lot in a short period of time."

Arthur didn't wait for Stefan to finish speaking. He hurried me out to the car, taking the keys from the driver to take the wheel himself and leaving me to hop in on my own. The drive home was completely silent. I was used to his silence, but this time, it felt different.

The council meeting was always a charade of fake pecks on the cheek and staged smiles—an opportunity for people to wear their most expensive clothes and perform the role of a perfect marriage. Dealing with a husband twice my age meant I had to blend in seamlessly, even if it meant walking with my chin held high while carefully controlling how broad my smile should be.

Arthur held court near the main stage, surrounded by city council members and board directors. He kept one arm firmly around my waist, pulling me close to his side every time a photographer's flash went off.

"My lovely wife, Elena," Arthur announced to the city mayor, slipping his hand down to rest on my hip, guiding me like a prize piece of real estate. "She handles the foundation with absolute grace. I couldn't ask for a better partner at the helm of Sterling Global."

Flashbulbs popped. I put on my practiced, radiant smile, nodding on cue while Arthur accepted the room's applause.

Standing near the exit was Stefan. He stood alone, holding a glass of scotch. He wasn't watching the mayor. He was watching Arthur’s hand drag over my body.

When Arthur turned to engage the chairman in a discussion about stock options, I slipped away toward the staircase, pretending to look for the powder room.

I walked quickly, gasping for air. The moment I reached a quiet corridor, I slipped my heels off—they had been hurting all night. Leaning my hands against the wall, I took a deep breath of the cool, quiet air.

Before I could sink into the silence, a hand grabbed my wrist, pulling me backward into the shadow of the curtains. Before I could make a sound, a firm index finger pressed against my lips.

"Stefan—" I gasped.

He didn't let me finish. He brought his mouth down on mine, rough and urgent, burning with the frustration he’d been holding in all night.

A surge of adrenaline hit my bloodstream, sharp and intoxicating. The risk of being caught made my chest hammer against my ribs. Instead of pushing him away, my hands flew to his shoulders, pulling him closer as I kissed him back with everything I had.

Stefan let out a low growl against my lips, sliding his hand up my back. His fingers tangled into my hair, pulling me tighter against his chest. His mouth moved down to my jawline, biting softly at the curve of my neck until I had to bite my lower lip to keep me from making a sound.

"Does he touch you like this, huh?" Stefan whispered against my skin, his breath hot and ragged.

"Stefan, someone will see us," I breathed, my hands trembling against his chest even as I pulled him closer.

"Let them," he murmured, his thumb tracing my lower lip as he spun me around. In one motion,his breath in my ear, he pulled my gown up from behind, his fingers finding my wet clit. "You aren't his, Elena. Not tonight." He didn't hesitate, reaching for his zip; I couldn't wait to feel him inside me.

Down in the main hall, the orchestra began to play a slow waltz, the music swelling up to swallow every sound of our breathing. But the sound of the footsteps got louder and then it stopped. Right before us.