All Chapters of My Wife Is My Secret Mistress: Chapter 1 - Chapter 6

On our wedding night, my husband pointed a loaded gun at my head on the roof of a forty-story building, and honestly, that pretty much tells you everything you need to know about our dynamic.He didn't pull the trigger, obviously. He just wanted to see if I would beg, if I would crack under the pressure of the empire I had just married into. I didn't flinch. I just stared down the barrel, and walked back downstairs to cut our five-tier fondant wedding cake for the paparazzi.My marriage to Steve Carter is a masterclass in fiction. To the world, we are the city's newest power couple, a seamless merger of two legacy families designed to dominate the social pages and secure his upcoming bid for the senate. We smile for the flashbulbs, our hands perfectly intertwined. But the second the heavy doors of our penthouse click shut, the performance ends.We sleep in separate wings of a twelve-thousand-square-foot fortress of white marble and modern art. We don't speak. We don't eat togethe

The doors click shut as he leaves. I realize I have been holding my breath since Steve first grabbed my wrist. My legs finally give out, and I sink back against the wallpaper, dragging in a gasp of air.Before I can even process the insanity of what I've just done, a harsh, continuous buzzing vibrates through the floorboards.It is coming from the employee locker room down the hall.I shove off the wall and sprint down the narrow corridor, my eight-inch clear heels slipping on the cheap carpet. I burst into the locker room, tearing open locker number four. My phone is lighting up. Three missed calls from Mark, Steve's executive assistant.And for the first time in years, two texts from Steve himself.~Cancel tomorrow. Master suite by Midnight ~I glance at the cracked clock on the locker room wall. 11:21 PM."Shit," I breathe, the word tearing out of my throat. "Shit, shit, shit."It is a twenty-five-minute drive to the penthouse in good traffic. I have thirty-nine minutes to sh

The door to the east wing guest suite clicks shut, sealing us inside.It is a massive, oppressive room, heavily decorated in dark velvet and floral wallpaper but the only thing I can focus on is the singular, antique four-poster king bed dominating the center of the floor.I immediately back up until my shoulder blades hit the flocked wallpaper in the corner, clutching my overnight bag to my chest.Steve drops his leather duffel onto the luggage rack at the foot of the bed.He doesn't immediately turn around, but he lets out a low, exhausted breath, rolling his shoulders."You don't need to stand over there like I'm about to attack you, Serena," he says, his voice drained of the icy, authoritative edge he usually carries. "I'm not going to touch you.""I'm not scared," I lie, my voice betraying me with a humiliating, tiny tremor. "I just... I'll take the chaise lounge."He finally turns to face me, raising a single, dark eyebrow. "It's crushed velvet, it's barely four feet long, and i