2. Excuses and Champagne

Damien’s pov

Victoria laughed at something I'd said, her hands were touching my arm. We were alone in the conference room, celebrating closing the Henderson deal. She'd insisted on champagne.

The city lights filled the room and beyond the glass walls, tall buildings glinted.

I loosened my tie, feeling the alcohol buzz warming me up, and for the first time all week, I wasn’t thinking about deadlines or dinner waiting for me at home.

"You were brilliant," she said, looking up at me with those green eyes. "This is exactly what your career needed."

With Victoria, I felt good, successful and Important. Not like when I was home with Elena and her quiet disappointment.

"We make a good team," Victoria said, standing closer.

"We do."

And we did. Victoria understood me. She understood ambition, drive, the need to prove yourself. She didn't ask stupid questions like "do you love me?" or expect me to drop everything for anniversary dinners.

My phone buzzed. Another message from Elena, probably.

I ignored it.

"Is she bothering you again?" Victoria asked, her voice sympathetic.

"Elena doesn't understand that I have responsibilities."

"She's very... needy." Victoria refilled my glass. "You know, sometimes I wonder why you married her at all. She's so ordinary."

Her tone was casual, almost teasing, but it got to me. I stared into the golden swirl in my glass. I've asked myself that same question lately. Why had I married Elena?

Three years ago, she'd seemed different, sweet and genuine. But now? Now she was just there, always waiting, always wanting something from me and always making me feel guilty for having a career.

"She was different before," I said.

"Or maybe you're just seeing her clearly now," Victoria suggested. "Now that you have real success, real opportunities. You're growing, Damien. Maybe she just can't grow with you."

“Maybe,” I said slowly, watching the bubbles rise in my glass. “She just doesn’t get it. What this job takes.”

Victoria tilted her head, amused. “She doesn’t get you, you mean.”

“Maybe.” I almost smiled. “She still thinks life should slow down whenever she wants attention.”

“She sounds exhausting,” Victoria said lightly. “Some people mistake love for obligation.”

I didn’t argue with what she said. She made it sound so simple, like I wasn’t neglecting my wife, just outgrowing her.

That made sense. I was moving up in the company. Making connections and building something real and Elena? What did Elena do all day? Nothing.

I could already picture her sitting by the window, waiting for me to come home, pretending she wasn’t disappointed when I didn’t. Always smiling that sad little smile, like I was breaking her heart just by being busy.

"My mother thinks she's a gold digger," I admitted.

Victoria nodded slowly. "Well, she did marry you when you were being promoted. And she has no money of her own, no job, no prospects. What else could it be?"

I'd never thought about it that way. Had Elena trapped me? We'd dated fast, married faster. Had that been her plan all along?

"You deserve better," Victoria said softly. "You deserve someone who matches your ambitions. Someone who can stand beside you, not drag you down."

“And who would that be?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

She smiled faintly. “Someone who knows when to pour you the next drink instead of asking where you’ve been.”

I laughed, but there was something about the way she said it that made my pulse jump.

Someone like you, her tone suggested.

I looked at Victoria. Beautiful, successful Victoria who I'd dated for two years before she'd moved away for work. The one who got away. And now she was back, and we were partners, and sometimes I wondered what my life would be like if I'd never let her go.

She smiled faintly and a second, I almost leaned in.

"I should get home," I said, but I didn't move.

"Or," Victoria said, "you could stay. Have another drink and forget about your problems for one night."

It was tempting. So tempting.

The room smelled faintly of champagne and her signature perfume. Very sweet and addictive. It reminded me of power. Of how much easier things were with her.

But I checked my watch. It's nearly midnight. Even I knew that it was too late.

"Tomorrow," I promised. "We'll celebrate properly tomorrow."

Victoria pouted but nodded. "Don't let her guilt-trip you. You earned this success."

I drove home, feeling the champagne buzz. The house was dark except for one light in the living room. Elena was probably waiting up, ready to make me feel bad for missing whatever dinner she'd planned.

But when I walked in, the house was silent. No Elena waiting or accusatory looks.

The dining room table had been cleaned off, but I could smell something that had been cooked. Something good. My favorite meal, probably, if she was telling the truth.

A plate sat in the sink, rinsed but untouched. For a second, just a second, I felt bad.

Then I remembered her face when she asked if I loved her. That needy, desperate look she always had. That expectation that I owed her something just because we were married.

Marriage wasn't about love. It was a partnership and Elena wasn't holding up her end.

I went upstairs. Our bedroom door was closed. Elena was probably already asleep, probably had been crying. She always cried.

The faint sound of water dripping somewhere in the pipes filled the hall. I paused outside the door, just for a moment, my hand hovering near the knob. But I couldn’t bring myself to open it.

I slept in the guest room instead. Like I had been for the past six months.

In the morning, I'd explain to her that I had work obligations. That she needed to stop being so demanding. That if she wanted to stay married to me, she needed to understand that my career came first.

She'd understand. Elena always understood eventually.

She had nowhere else to go.