Being The Other Woman Book Novels & Stories

The other woman darted back before pulling out her own claws that left a red gash across the woman’s face. "You don't deserve him," one of them screamed as fur rippled under their skin. "You'll never understand what we had. You were nothing but a cheap lay!" I looked around the room where people were watching on. They couldn’t all be supernatural. Wasn’t this against the rules? “I’ll kill you!” She grabbed the woman around her throat and slammed her into the bar. The other woman shoved her back and sent her flying over a table. The other woman scoffed. "You weren’t ever enough for him. He told me how terrible you were in bed! Tony deserves someone who can please him.”

Stilling my breath, I heard humming again and then"Get up, dear, I know you're awake." I mentally widened my eyes. What? How do you know that? "Quickly, get up. We need to get you ready." My eyes opened, I sat up to see the woman, she should be in her late forties or so. "How do you know I'm awake?" I watched as she brought out some clothes and dropped them on the bed. "I know a thing or two about the human body." My eyes popped out at that." Human? Are you not human?"

We didn’t even dare instruct him to fast forward the video because we wanted to see everything it had to offer. Then we saw ourselves, walking into the lobby, hand and hand. Close as ever. I felt her shift a little as if feeling uncomfortable as she watched such a scene with a third person in the world. I rolled my eyes. What a silly wench. If she was so scared about getting caught, then why did she get involved with another man in the first place? Women— they were all the same. Even the one I had in the past, there was no difference. All leaving husbands to go be with your other man outside.

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."

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.

Because not only had she sworn off men in general, she’d sworn off men who made her girl parts tingle very specifically. One thing was certain. Looks were deceiving. Because there were no perfect men. “Just perfect idiots,” she muttered, lifting her hand from the wheel, as if taking an oath. “Yes, your honor, guilty as charged. No need for a trial. The evidence is overwhelming.” She looked at him again . . . and, yep, definite tingles. Book me, lock me up, and throw away the key, judge. Because that’s apparently the only way I’m going to save me from myself. Calder Blue wasn’t sure if the woman still strapped in the driver’s seat of the banged-up Audi was waving at him or blocking the sun fr

After one month, I gradually adapted to this busy but fulfilling life. One day, I found Jessica standing outside my dorm. "Zachary, why are you doing this? Why did you write Marcus' name on the marriage application? And why didn't you go to Lisbeth?" Her voice was filled with anger and confusion. I met her gaze coldly. "I don't want a wife whose heart belongs to someone else. It's disgusting and makes me sick." Jessica stared at me in disbelief. "How can you say that? You weren't like this before."

Many women had tried to marry into the Porters, but Christine was destined to remain an outsider. I, on the other hand, had been seen as less than even Christine in the Porter family's eyes—which was why they had treated me so poorly. Whenever I was around, Christine appeared like a shining star by comparison. But after I left, Christine ruined herself. Her true nature revealed itself, and it was no surprise that they never ended up together. Vincent had only married me in the first place because I was valuable to him—a stepping stone. But now, that door was forever closed.

"Five years after the marriage, the young woman was beginning to become a woman, even if she did not allow her husband to join her. Becoming a woman was out of all options, there was no possibility of her doing something so vile and distasteful against herself. Francesca spent so much time looking for a way not to bow to that vile family from which her husband came, the young woman refused to become a woman under the protection of that blood that had never done anything to help her family. Months passed, until finally, through an oversight of her mother's maids, the young woman found an old but still well-preserved book on the table in the library of the mansion. The book was there, carefull