Her Best Friend's Wife

The next few weeks blurred together in a whirlwind of luxury and learning. Marcus took her everywhere. Client meetings in penthouses. Business lunches at restaurants where the waiters knew his name. Late nights in the office, going over presentations, their heads bent together over his laptop, so close she could smell his cologne. He was attentive without being overbearing. Generous without making her feel like a charity case. And he had a way of looking at her, really looking at her, that made her feel seen in a way she had never experienced before. Not invisible. Not overlooked. Seen. You're a natural at this, Marcus told her one evening as they reviewed a successful client pitch. They were in his office, the city lights spread below them like fallen stars. I knew you had potential, but you've exceeded every expectation. "I had a good teacher," Lita said, allowing herself to smile. "No." He turned to face her fully. You had the talent already. I just gave you the platform to show it. The moment stretched between them, charged with something Lita couldn't quite name. Marcus was standing close now, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. "Lita," he said softly. I need to tell you something. Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it reflexively, a text from Damian. Can we talk? Please? It was the third message that day. She's been avoiding his calls, dodging his attempts to meet up. Not because she was angry, but because she didn't know what to say to him. Didn't know how to explain this new life without making it sound like betrayal. Is everything alright? Marcus asked, noticing her distraction. Fine. Just... an old friend. Damian? Lita looked up, surprised. How did you You mentioned him once. The one who helped you when you were younger. Marcus's expression was unreadable. You should respond if it's important. But he didn't move away, and Lita found herself putting the phone face down on the desk. "It can wait," she said. Something flickered across Marcus's face: satisfaction? Relief? It was gone too quickly to identify. "Good," he said. Because there's something I've been wanting to ask you. But he couldn't bring himself to ask; time had already slipped away. She looked tired and drained from a long day's work, and he didn't want to keep her waiting a minute longer. The conversation could wait till some other time. Lita was leaving the office building, her mind still on the day's meetings, when she nearly walked into Damian. He was standing by the entrance, his expression a storm of emotions. Damian? What are you doing here? "Waiting for you." His voice was tight, controlled. Since you won't answer my calls. Guilt twisted in her stomach. I've been busy. "Too busy for me? For us?" He looked past her at the gleaming lobby, at the world she now inhabited. Or just too busy with Marcus Thorne? That's not fair. Isn't it? Damian stepped closer, his eyes searching for hers. Lita, you're not his project. You're mine. The words hit her like a slap. What did you just say? I didn't mean it like that. He stopped, ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Yes, I did. For ten years, Lita. Ten years I've been there. I kept my promise. I never let you starve. I was there when you had nothing, when everyone else looked through you like you were glass. I know that Do you? His voice cracked. Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've forgotten. You're so caught up in his world, the cars, the restaurants, the clothes, that you can't see what's happening. What's happening, Lita said, her own anger rising, is that I'm finally building something. I'm using my brain for more than just survival. Why can't you be happy for me? Because you're not his project! Damian's voice rose, drawing looks from passersby. You're not some experiment, some girl from the streets he can mold into his perfect assistant. You're, he stopped abruptly. I'm what? "You're mine," he whispered, and the weight of those words hung between them. Or at least, I thought you were. I thought when you finally had space to breathe, when the desperation stopped consuming everything, you'd see me. Really see me. Lita's chest tightened. She'd known, on some level, that Damian's feelings ran deeper than friendship. But hearing it stated so plainly, with such raw vulnerability, made it impossible to ignore. "Damian" I love you, he said, the words tumbling out, desperate and afraid. I have for years. And I've watched you become this incredible person, and I kept thinking. I kept hoping that one day you would love me back. His eyes glistened. But instead, you're falling for him. It's not like that, Lita protested, but the words felt hollow even as she spoke them. Isn't it? Damian moved closer, his voice dropping. Tell me honestly. Are you attracted to him? The question hung in the air, demanding honesty. And Lita, who had survived by being honest about harsh realities, couldn't bring herself to lie. I don't know, she admitted. Maybe. But it isn't very easy. Because he's rich. Because he can give you things I can't. There was no accusation in Damian's voice, just bone-deep weariness. I get it, Lita. I do. But you need to understand something. He reached for her hand. Marcus Thorne sees you as a project. Something interesting to work on. But I see you. All of you. The girl who was willing to carry impossible loads to keep her mother alive. The person who deserves everything good in this world. Tears pricked at Lita's eyes. Damian, I'm not choosing him. But you're not choosing me either. His thumb brushed across her knuckles. And that's okay. I understand. But please, Lita. Please be careful. Don't let him make you into someone you're not. Don't lose yourself trying to fit into a world that will never really accept you. You don't know that I do. Damian's voice was gentle but firm. Because I've watched it happen before. People like us don't belong in places like that. And when they're done with us, when we're no longer interesting or useful, they discard us. I don't want that to happen to you. I can handle myself, Lita said, pulling her hand back. I know you can. You're the strongest person I know. He smiled sadly. But strength doesn't make you immune to manipulation. And Marcus Thorne is very, very good at getting what he wants. Before Lita could respond, a familiar voice cut through the evening air. Is there a problem here?