How Would You Like To Be My Wife?

The boardroom emptied fast. Chairs scraped and papers shuffled as feet hurried toward the door. No one looked at me, no one looked at him. They just left, as if the air itself warned them not to linger.

I could feel his presence before I even looked up. He closed a folder, adjusted his cuff, and then finally turned toward me.

His gaze locked on mine. Cold, unreadable. Like he was peeling me apart piece by piece.

He spoke first. His voice was even, measured. “Tell me, Ms. Hartley. Why did you think it wise to defy me in front of the board?”

My throat tightened, but I forced my words steady. “I wasn’t defying you. I was defending myself.”

His brow lifted slightly. “Defending yourself from correction?”

“From humiliation,” I shot back. Heat rushed into my chest. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you called me out like that. You wanted to make an example of me.”

He didn’t blink. “You were late and I addressed it. That is all.”

“That is not all,” I said, my voice sharper now. “You enjoyed it.”

He cut me off. “My expression is irrelevant. What matters is that this company now runs on discipline, not excuses. I will not lower the standard for you, or for anyone else.”

His tone was so calm, so dismissive, that it felt like ice poured through my veins. I gripped the edge of the table. “Do you think I was late because I was careless?”

He gave a small shrug. “Vivienne, you were late. That is enough.”

The dismissal burned. My jaw tightened. “I was late I have responsibilities. Things you clearly know nothing about.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice stayed cool. “This is not a daycare, Ms. Hartley. It’s a corporation. If you cannot separate your personal life from your professional role, perhaps you are in the wrong place.”

The words hit hard. I felt the sting crawl up my spine. I leaned forward, my voice low, hot with anger. “You reduce everything you don’t understand into something trivial. A daycare. An excuse. You don’t even try to see beyond yourself.”

He tilted his head, watching me like a puzzle. “Beyond myself?”

“Yes,” I said. “You act like nothing exists outside your walls of power.”

I felt my pulse race, but I didn’t stop. “And let’s be honest, if I were a man, you wouldn’t dismiss me so easily. You treat me with a disdain you’d never aim at one of them.”

Damon’s stare bore into me, unblinking, heavy with warning.

I held his gaze anyway, though my chest tightened and my palms ached from pressing so hard against the table.

And I knew it. I knew I had just risked more than my pride. I had risked everything.

My chest ached from holding my breath but then the door clicked.

Susan stepped in, her heels hesitant on the polished floor. “Oh—sorry,” she stammered, glancing between us. “I didn’t know you were still—”

Her eyes darted back and forth, reading the tension, the fire that hadn’t burned out yet. She clutched a file to her chest and shuffled awkwardly.

I saw her shoulders stiffen, saw the way she avoided Damon’s stare. She knew. Everyone knew.

Damon’s voice never came. He didn’t say a word. He simply turned away, gathering the last of his papers as if the whole standoff had been nothing more than background noise. It was dismissal.

I stood slowly, my folder clutched so tight my knuckles whitened. My legs trembled, but I held my head high. If he wanted me small, he wouldn’t get it. Not from me.

I brushed past Susan, my voice clipped. “Let’s go.”

She hurried after me. The moment we cleared the door, she leaned close, whispering urgently. “Viv, what the hell was that?”

I didn’t look at her. My throat was dry, but I forced steadiness into my tone. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” Her voice sharpened, panicked. “You just went head-to-head with Damon Langford. Do you even know what that means?”

“I know exactly what it means.” I kept walking, my heels striking the tile harder than I intended. My chest still burned from the encounter.

Susan grabbed my arm, making me stop. “No, you don’t. He’s not like other bosses. He doesn’t let things go. He doesn’t forget. He doesn’t forgive. Once you cross him—” She shook her head, eyes wide. “There’s no coming back.”

Her words dug under my skin. My pulse hammered, but I shoved the fear down. “I’m not going to cower because of him.”

“You think this is about pride? This is survival, Viv. People don’t stand up to him and keep their jobs. Not anywhere.”

I pulled free from her grip, forcing my voice calm even as it cracked at the edges. “Then maybe he’ll just have to learn I’m not afraid of him.”

Susan stared at me, frustration written across her face. “You’re scared. I can see it.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “Maybe I am. But I won’t let him see it.”

We walked in silence after that, her worry thick beside me. I kept my head high, my folder clutched like a shield, but inside, my hands still shook.

Hours later, I sat at my desk. The hum of the office had settled into a dull background noise, but I couldn’t focus. My mind kept circling back to the boardroom, to Damon’s stare, to the silence that had cut deeper than words.

In a matter of minutes, my computer pinged.

It was an email, and the body held only one sentence:

“Performance Review, 7:00 p.m at my office. —D. Langford.”

I stared at it, my heart pounding so hard it hurt.

Susan’s warning echoed in my head as fingers hovered above the keyboard, but I didn’t type a reply. There was nothing to say. The message wasn’t a question, this was a command.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Damon’s POV

~•~

Her words hadn’t left me.

I replayed them in my head since the boardroom. Nobody spoke to me like that. Not the men who called themselves partners, not the executives who kissed my hand like cowards, not even the lawyers who fought for scraps of my approval. But she did. Vivienne Hartley looked at me as though I was a man she could fight, not a god she should fear.

I told myself it was insolence I hated. And I did hate it. But beneath the sting of her defiance, my curiosity lingered.

I had opened her file to see that she had just gotten a recent promotion. She was steady, fast, and relentless. Exactly the kind of woman my father would have despised. Exactly the kind I might need.

When she entered my office, I stood at the window. I didn’t turn. I didn’t greet her. My voice filled the silence instead.

“Sit.”

She obeyed, though I saw her spine straighten, her chin lift. She saw the chair was lower and what it meant, yet she sat.

I faced her at last, letting my gaze cut into hers. “You called me heartless. You suggested bias. Why?”

Her throat bobbed, but her voice stayed steady. “Because that’s how you made me feel. It wasn’t an insult. It was the truth of that moment.”

I stepped closer, my hands resting on the edge of the desk. “So feelings excuse disrespect?”

Her eyes didn’t lower. “No. But feelings explain it.”

Her honesty pressed against me like heat. Not the cowardice I had grown used to.

“You think the workplace is about feelings?” I asked, my tone calm, precise. “This is not a daycare, Ms. Hartley.”

Her hands clenched in her lap, but her chin lifted higher.

I let silence drag between us, heavy enough to crush.

Finally, I leaned back, voice flat. “Every decision you make. Every report. Every strategy. From now on, it runs through me. Weekly reviews. Face-to-face. No exceptions.”

Her lips parted, shock flickering in her eyes before she caught it. “Why?” she asked, sharper than a plea. “Why not fire me if I’m such trouble?”

I held her stare, let the pause stretch until I saw the pulse quicken in her throat. “Because you pique my interest.”

The words landed between us, heavy and deliberate.

She froze, her breath catching, though she tried to mask it. “If this is some kind of game—”

I cut her off, my voice low, close. “It isn’t a game.”

She frowned, suspicion flashing. “Then what kind of interest are you talking about?”

Her attempt to drag this back into safe territory almost made me smile.

“Tell me, Vivienne Hartley…” I started.

Her shoulders stiffened.

“…how would you like to be my wife?”