Being The Other Woman Book Novels & Stories

"See? That hurt like a bullet wound, doesn't it?" "Mom! Your friends are here!" Zyaire shouted. I exhaled and turned to leave. "Oh, and you got the order wrong. Peyton was never the other woman, I was," I said, walking out and slamming the door behind me. I hated it, but it was the truth. I had been the other woman in his life, not Peyton. She was there first, he loved her first, he did everything for her. She had watched her boyfriend flirt with another woman, sleep with her, and propose to her. Even if she had evil intentions, it still didn't change the fact that I had been the other woman. I had stolen Rominic away from her; she didn't steal him from me.

"If you think I don't want you, then come with me to the bedroom and we'll see about that." I frown even though my cheeks are as red as a tomato. "You want to make me your other woman, one who will only be of use to you in the bedroom and the bedroom only. I won't be that woman that you'll never be able to take out on dates, nor will I step out publicly with you because the other woman cannot be the woman the world recognise or even accept even if she yarns to be with you, hold your hand and kiss you in the face of the world, she knows her place and that's where she'll stay. You promise her you'll give her the world, but that is only another empty promise you make her and year after year she

“Why am I not supposed to be happy with Beta Andrew? Andy doesn't judge me. He made me who I am now. And I no longer care what you think or believe. I am no longer yours.” I was looking for any signs of distress or even fear. But I found nothing at all. Everything was perfect with her. She didn't have her wolf, yet her powerful atre made me wonder if she had been hiding something. “The door is that way. Leave before I kick you out of my room. It would tarnish your reputation if a beta woman would kick you out of her room. Your perfect mate is waiting for you in your room. You should go to her and leave me alone.” I grabbed her hand and slammed her against the wall. She had forgotten who was

"She's right. There is no greater virtue than saving a life." "Exactly. What kind of grudge could matter more than a life? They've already gone on their knees." A middle-aged woman holding a thermos stood near the front of the crowd and jerked her chin toward my door. "I heard about it yesterday. That girl looked pretty kind at first glance. Who would've thought her heart would be this cold?" Someone beside her immediately agreed. "Right? Her husband is at death's door, and she's lying in there pretending to be sick. I heard she's refusing on purpose."

The gentle and protective way he fussed over her was something I hadn't seen once in the decade of marriage. My coworkers' expressions shifted from confusion to absolute disgust. Condemnation washed over me in wave after wave. I was nailed to the pillar of shame—scorned, judged, treated like filth. My flinty gaze locked onto Zachary. "Zachary, keep in mind that I will remember every second of this circus you two put on today. You're the one pushing everything past the point of no return. So, don't you dare blame me for what comes next."

It was the kind of small calculation a man made when he had been working out for three days how to walk into a room with a thing in his hand that would change the shape of the woman in the room. He had been working on it. I let myself notice that he had been working on it. I opened the book. The first page was a daguerreotype. A woman. Standing in front of a tall window. Hands folded at her waist. The kind of dress that had not been made in this part of the continent for sixty years. Her hair was pulled severely back from her temples. She was not smiling. She had my face.

I can't help it, I actually chuckle. The sheer audacity of this woman is breathtaking. "Let me get this straight," I say, leaning back. "You’re sleeping with her husband. You’ve been outed as the 'other woman.' And yet, you’re unhappy that she wants to leave? I would have thought you’d be thrilled to have Deckard all to your greedy self without the pesky 'wife' in the way." She walks right up to the edge of my desk, leans over, intentionally letting her cleavage spill toward me, her eyes locked on mine with a practiced, seductive intensity.

Chapter 47 : Isabella Sinclair groaned and palmed her head as she opened her mobile and unblocked Jessica Williams. Her eyes rounded in shock seeing the super hot Mathew Hill with another woman. She had been busy visiting top designers for the super rich and shopping for her attire and accessories for the evening dinner with the Hills through the past few days which had left her exhausted. She was getting a body massage at a luxe spa when Jessica’s irritating phone calls started disturbing her.