TORN BETWEEN THE CEO AND HIS BIKER TWIN

Amber's pov

"Yes….. yes!....Adrian! Right there! Harder!"

Amber could hear the loud voice of a female moaning so hard from her husband's office.

Amber's hand froze on the door of her husband's office. The chocolate cake she had spent three hours baking sat back in their penthouse kitchen, forty-two floors below.

The candles she had arranged so carefully were probably melting into the frosting by now. Her birthday. Their first birthday together as husband and wife.

And Adrian was inside his office, having sex with someone else.

She pushed the door open wider, just enough to see.

Vivienne Cross was bent over Adrian's glass desk, her designer dress bunched around her waist as Adrian stood behind her, his suit jacket discarded on the floor, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her.

Vivienne's moans echoed off the walls of the corner office; it was so shameless and loud.

"God, you feel amazing," Adrian groaned. "So much better than my wife….. I can't have enough of you…" He groaned; the pleasure and satisfaction were all written all over her face.

Amber could feel her chest hurting. It felt like it had been sliced into several tiny pieces, making it so hard for her to breathe.

The pain was the kind that made her forget how to breathe. The kind that reminded her she had given up everything for this man. Her company.

Her inheritance, her future. All for a marriage contract, her uncle had convinced her that it was about love when it was really about merging two empires.

Vivienne threw her head back, her blonde hair cascading down her back. "Do not stop!…… Please do not stop!"

Adrian did not stop. His movements got faster and rougher. His face showed nothing but raw pleasure, the kind Amber had never seen him display with her. Not once in their year of marriage.

Her hands shook on the door handle. Every instinct screamed at her to burst in there. To scream. To throw something. To make them both pay for this betrayal.

But she could not move.

Could not breathe.

Could not do anything except stand there and watch her husband destroy everything they were supposed to be.

This was Adrian Blackwell. Billionaire CEO of Blackwell Industries. The man Forbes called "Manhattan's Most Eligible Bachelor" before she married him. The man who had promised her the world during their engagement.

The man who had lied about everything.

She took a step back. Slow and Silent. Her whole body trembled.

"I am close…." Adrian grunted. "So close."

"Come inside me," Vivienne gasped. "I want to feel it. I want to feel your seed inside of me." She said it louder this time

And this is the height of what Amber could endure as she dashed out of there, tears streaming down her face.

She did not care who saw her; she did not care about the executives working late or the security guards stationed on the executive floor.

Her Louboutins did not stop making clinging sounds as she bolted for the elevator, tears streaming down her face before she even made it halfway.

The elevator doors opened. She stumbled inside and jabbed the button for the parking garage. As the doors closed, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the door.

She looked broken.

Her makeup was smeared. Her hair, which she had spent an hour styling, was falling out of its updo. The Valentino dress Adrian had bought her for appearances hung on her frame like an expensive lie.

This was what a year of marriage to Adrian Blackwell looked like, and this was the worst birthday she had ever experienced.

Her phone buzzed, A text from Harper, her best friend and the only person who knew how unhappy she really was: *Happy birthday, babe! How's the celebration?*

Amber stared at the message. Then she turned her phone off and headed to the parking lot where her car had been parked.

She got in. Started the engine. And drove off.

Too fast for Manhattan traffic, but she did not care. She needed to get away. Away from Blackwell Tower. Away from the penthouse they shared. Away from everything that reminded her, she had sold her soul for a marriage that meant nothing.

Even as she drove, her eyes blurred past her windows, but the image of Adrian's hands on Vivienne's hips stayed burned into her brain. The sound of their pleasure. The way he looked at Vivienne was like she was everything.

The tears came somewhere around the George Washington Bridge. Ugly, choking sobs that made it hard to see the road. She swiped at her eyes, but they kept coming.

One year. She had given him one year of her life. Had stood beside him at charity galas and business meetings. Had smiled for the cameras while he built his empire on her family's money and connections.

Had defended him when board members whispered he was not fit to run Blackwell Industries, and not to mention, she had given her entire shares to him.

And this was her reward.

Vivienne Cross. Senator Cross's daughter. The same woman who smiled at her during political fundraisers and called her friend.

Ember was so consumed in her tears when she noticed the bar.

The bar appeared like salvation, a place called Nexus on the outskirts of the city, the kind of upscale club where celebrities and billionaires went to hide from the world.

 Amber had never been there. Adrian would never approve. It was too common, too dangerous, too beneath them.

She pulled into the parking lot, killed the engine, and walked inside.

Music thumped from hidden speakers. The crowd was a mix of business types and trust fund kids, all looking to forget their problems.

Amber walked straight to the bar and sat down. "Vodka. Top shelf."

The bartender, a woman with silver hair and multiple piercings, looked at her designer dress and Cartier jewelry. "Rough night?"

"Just pour."

She did. Amber drank it in one gulp.

"Another."

The bartender poured. Amber drank.

This went on until she lost count. Five shots. Eight. Ten. The alcohol burned, but it was nothing compared to the fire in her chest. Nothing compared to seeing Adrian's face twisted in pleasure while he was inside someone else.

On her birthday.

"I think you have had enough," the bartender said, pulling the bottle back.

"I will decide when I have had enough." Her words slurred together.

"Ma'am, I cannot serve you anymore……"

"Do you know who I am?" Amber leaned forward. "I am Amber Blackwell. My husband owns half of Manhattan. Give me the bottle."

"Mrs. Blackwell, with all due respect, I am calling you a car……."

"No!" Panic shot through the alcohol haze. She could not go back to the penthouse, could not face Adrian. Could not pretend everything was fine.

"Give me the bottle, or I will buy this entire bar and fire you!"

The bartender's expression hardened. "I am calling your husband."

Amber's hand stretched out and knocked a glass off the bar. It shattered on the floor. Everyone turned to look.

"Do not call him," she said, her voice breaking. "Please. I just need……I need…" her voice choked on the words, accompanied by soft sobs.

“I am sorry, ma'am. But I think that you will have to pay for the damages, and I will have someone take you home!

"She is with me!"

The voice came from behind her. The voice was so deep and rough and so familiar that it made her heart stop.

Amber turned, and for a split second, she thought that it was Adrian.

No. Not Adrian.

Kade!

He stood there in a black leather jacket and dark jeans, his hair longer and wilder than his twin's perfectly styled cut. But it was his eyes that gave him away.

The Kade that everyone describes as the black sheep of the family.