To my cliché life

CHRISTOPHER

The key to the new place felt light in my palm, a tiny piece of metal that promised a clean break from the suffocating luxury of the penthouse.

"I'm moving out on Friday," I mumbled.

"Fine," he replied smoothly. "Just coordinate with Marcus so the security team can sweep the building first. I don't need a scandal because you picked a place with poor surveillance."

I blinked, momentarily thrown off by the absolute lack of friction. "That's it? No lecture on the optics of the merger? No threats about my dividends?"

"Why would I waste the energy?" Xavier finally glanced up. "The public expects us to be a modern, busy couple. If anyone asks, we’ll say you wanted an apartment closer to the commercial district. It’s entirely believable."

He picked up his coffee cup, taking a slow sip. "Besides, Christopher, less time spent bickering with you in the hallways means more time I can actually spend working. It’s a win for efficiency."

"And what about the penthouse?" I pushed, stepping closer, trying to see if I could find a single crack in the ice. "Aren't you going to miss the company?"

Xavier set his cup down, his gaze shifting back to his screen. "I survived thirty-two years without you in my space, Christopher. I think I can manage the next five months."

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The coffee machine on the kitchen counter hummed, filling the small space with a rich, dark aroma.

It had been four days since I moved in, and I was finally settled. The morning sun hit the living room floor perfectly, there was a nice breeze coming through the open windows, and for the first time in weeks, I felt completely comfortable.

I leaned back against the counter, taking a slow sip from my mug. I picked up my phone, scrolling down to a contact I hadn't used in a while.

Lewis.

"Well, look who decided to remember I exist," Lewis purred on the other end. "Morning, Chris."

"Morning," I hummed. "I was just thinking about you. I'm sitting in my new place, and honestly... I feel like I need someone to warm up my new house."

Lewis let out a soft laugh. "A new house? Sounds tempting. But wait... aren't you already married?"

"We both know that that's just formality. So what time are you coming?"

"Give me an hour," Lewis murmured. "Just text me the address, Chris. I'll see you in a few."

"Don't keep me waiting," I purred.

The city lights outside the window blurred into a warm, familiar backdrop as the hours slipped away. It was exactly like it used to be before my life got complicated by gold bands and legal documents.

Lewis was sitting on the edge of the kitchen island, a half-empty glass of amber liquor in his hand. I leaned back against the counter opposite him, a matching glass in my hand, feeling a familiar, superficial warmth that I hadn't felt in weeks.

"You know, you're a lot more relaxed here," Lewis said, setting his glass down with a soft click and tilting his head to look at me. "Whatever changed, I like it."

"Let's not talk about what changed," I mumbled.

"Actually," I began, a faint, wry smile touching my lips. "There is one thing. Xavier and I... we already slept together."

Lewis paused, his glass halfway to his mouth. For a second, he just blinked at me, processing the words. Then, a huge amused grin broke across his face.

"No way," Lewis chuckled, shaking his head. "The ice king? When did this happen?"

"The night after the wedding," I admitted, laughing along with him. "I actually went out clubbing to escape the whole thing, found a guy, and was just about to take him home. Then Xavier literally showed up at the club and completely cockblocked me."

Lewis burst out laughing. "He did not! Mr. Corporate tracked you down at a club just to ruin your game?"

"Oh, it gets better," I grinned, the relief of finally telling someone the ridiculous truth washing over me. "He dragged me back to the penthouse, completely furious. One thing led to another, and... well, we ended up in bed."

"Oh, Chris, please. It is as cliché as it gets."

I blinked. "What?"

"Are you serious?" Lewis teased, gesturing with his glass. "It's literally the most basic plot line ever. You’re living in a bargain-bin billionaire romance novel. The contract marriage, the burning hatred, the denial, and then—boom—the angry, possessive club cockblock leading straight to a one-night stand? Come on, it is a complete cliché storyline."

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but laughter caught in my throat , tracking it back, he was completely right. "Shut up," I muttered playfully, shoving his shoulder.

"I'm just saying!" Lewis raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning wildly. "All you're missing now is a dramatic storm and him giving you a corporate credit card."

I clinked my glass against his. "To my cliché life," I echoed.

As if the universe were reading from the exact script Lewis had just mocked, the front door handle jiggled. There was a sharp, aggressive twist, followed by the heavy click of the deadbolt sliding back.

Xavier stood in the frame. His jaw ticked. His dark eyes scanned the room, instantly locking dead onto Lewis.

"So," Xavier growled. "You couldn't even wait a few days before you called one of your boy toys?"

"Well," Lewis said smoothly, grabbing his leather jacket from the barstool. "That's my cue."

He walked towards the door, completely ignoring the death stare Xavier was drilling onto him.

"Told you so," he whispered loud enough for me to hear. "He's all yours, man."