The CEO’s Lost Wife

It was Friday night, Emiliano Monter’s bachelor party, and he couldn’t find a place where the richest and coldest man in the city—judging by the number of women who pursued him—could feel more out of place.

Emiliano sat on the wide couch surrounded by his friends. There were only six men, none truly important in his life—perhaps just one who hovered around like a butterfly, licking his lips in anticipation before the show began.

The lights went out. Only one light flicked on in the center of the ceiling, pointing toward a specific spot where a blonde woman appeared.

Her hair was short and blond, falling to her shoulders, and a mask covered her face. She wore a leather suit that clung to her perfect silhouette, with silver chains that clinked whenever she moved, and a pair of high heels that made it difficult for her to walk. She didn’t seem very skilled at handling them, and that stirred impatience in Emiliano.

The music began. Emiliano’s friends leaned forward to watch the spectacle, but he simply shrank back into his seat. He hadn’t wanted a bachelor party, and he certainly hadn’t wanted an exotic dancer—but who could say no to his friend Samuel?

The woman stretched her hips and arched her back.

There was no doubt it was a woman’s show, with a defined figure and toned legs, but there was something peculiar about her. Emiliano leaned forward, narrowing his eyes.

He never frequented strip clubs, but that woman seemed strangely familiar as she made a rather mediocre attempt to seduce the men. For all the beauty she had, she was an awful dancer.

The music reached its peak. The woman swayed and danced, moving with sexiness and at least a decent flexibility, and Emiliano noticed how his friends were beginning to get overly excited—but he himself was honestly a bit bored.

He leaned back into the couch with his arms crossed and watched the show in silence.

"Come on, cheer up," Samuel said, nudging his shoulder. "I hired her especially for you. She’s a real gem—and a bargain. She was one of the cheapest, though I honestly don’t see why. To me, she was the most attractive in the whole catalog. Besides, she dances incredibly. Look at those hips." Emiliano questioned many things about Samuel, but he added dancing taste to the list. The music kept blaring loudly, and when the song ended, the men applauded.

The woman did not remove her mask.

The next song was slower, more seductive. She touched her body and her hair, her narrow hips, and bit her lip.

"Look at that. All of that could be yours tonight," Samuel murmured in his ear, but Emiliano shook his head.

"No. You know I don’t like that kind of thing. I’m not going to sleep with her."

"What do you mean you’re not? I paid a very high price to bring her here! You can’t do this to me."

"Didn’t you say she was the cheapest?"

"It’s still a lot for me. Not all of us are the presidents of the most important fashion company in the country. Come on!"

"Not a chance, Samuel. I’m getting married tomorrow."

"Yeah, but you’re not marrying for love. More than anyone I know it’s just business—and not even good business," his friend said, sounding frustrated.

"Of course I love her," he lied. "Besides, I need a temporary wife so Casa Monter can secure that contract with her family. Once our activities with her company are finished… I don’t know."

"Fine, I don’t believe you’re marrying that redhead for love. But even if you are, what’s stopping you from taking that beauty to bed?" Emiliano swallowed. He certainly didn’t have an answer to that question, but it didn’t seem right to him. Seeing the doubt in his eyes, Samuel snapped his fingers, and Emiliano noticed his intentions.

"Well, if she wants to, then you sleep with her," Emiliano said with a shrug.

"Fine. I’m not much for picking up my friends’ leftovers, but these are dark times—you have to take advantage," Samuel said, standing up and walking toward the woman. She approached him and began to dance rhythmically at his side.

His friend tried to grab her by the hips, but she caught his wrists and lifted them into the air, preventing him from touching her.

That only excited Samuel more. The others clapped and whistled.

Emiliano lazily leaned back on the couch and watched the scene. His friend tried to dance with the girl, but the truth was he was terrible at it—perhaps a little worse than she was—and the scene was starting to become somewhat comical.

She swayed and tried to seduce him, but she didn’t seem willing to go any further.

When the man reached out and placed his hand over one of the dancer’s breasts through the leather suit, she leaned close and whispered something in his ear.

His friend’s face changed—from the most erotic pleasure to absolute surprise.

"What do you mean, no?!" he asked angrily.

The man controlling the music lowered the volume slightly.

"What’s going on?" Emiliano asked.

As soon as the dancer heard his voice, she fixed her eyes on him, but the ceiling light and the darkness of the house prevented her from seeing him clearly.

"Well, our dancer here is telling me I can’t touch her—that she’s only a dancer." The young woman froze in the middle of the spotlight. The music stopped.

One of the friends ran to turn on the lights.

When he did, Emiliano noticed she was even younger than she had seemed. She couldn’t be more than twenty-six, though the mask still covered part of her face.

Samuel grabbed her wrist tightly.

"I paid a lot of money to bring you here. Now you’re not going to refuse me." The woman pulled her wrist free from Samuel’s grip with force.

"When you hired me, the catalog clearly stated that I wasn’t a prostitute—only a dancer. That’s why I was cheaper than the others. If you wanted to sleep with one, you should have paid for the more expensive ones." Emiliano felt a strange chill run down his spine. That voice...

He walked toward the woman, grabbed her wrist, and in a swift movement—before she could do anything—snatched the mask from her face and finally saw her.

The strength left his body. The mask in his hand fell to the floor and rolled until it stopped at the feet of his astonished companions on the other side.

The dancer blinked a couple of times, but the moment she saw him—when she recognized him—her eyes widened like two enormous full moons.

Frightened, she pressed her lips together and took a step back, but she was still trapped in Emiliano’s firm grip on her wrist.

"You!" Emiliano said, his voice trembling.

Samuel looked at them both in surprise, then cleared his throat.

"Do you know her?"

Emiliano nodded.

"Do I know her? This woman is my wife!"