His Secret Wife: A Dangerous Game

The double doors violently swung open.

Ace Suarez strode into the conference room, a pack of executives trailing behind him like terrified shadows.

Delinda stood in the corner of the room. Her eyes caught the sharp, unforgiving line of Ace's jaw.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She frowned, a sudden pressure building behind her eyes. The blurry clipping in her wallet flashed in her mind. The bone structure was identical.

Ace walked to the head of the table. He didn't sit. He slammed a thick financial report down on the wood.

The loud crack made the executives flinch. Delinda lowered her eyelashes, forcing the shock out of her expression.

Warren Petty stood up. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He pointed a trembling laser pointer at a heavily designed slide, trying to talk his way around the massive profit drop in the European division.

"Stop," Ace said.

His voice was a low, lethal blade. He rattled off three specific data discrepancies without looking at the paper.

Warren's face drained of color. He stuttered, his hands shaking as he tried to shift the blame to the data compilation department.

Ace slowly turned his head. His dark, predatory gaze swept toward the corner of the room. He stared directly at the new data assistant.

Delinda didn't look away. She met his aggressive stare head-on.

She took a step forward. Her voice was completely flat. "The data source was altered before the European division submitted it."

She tapped her tablet, not pulling up a hidden camera feed, but accessing the company's internal audit log interface. The main screen behind Warren switched from the presentation to a clean, system-generated timeline. Lines of red text highlighted the exact timestamps of the data upload, followed by a secondary, unauthorized edit timestamp-with the associated user ID clearly marked as belonging to Warren Petty's administrative credentials.

Someone in the room gasped. Warren looked like he was going to vomit.

Ace narrowed his eyes. He really looked at the woman in the beige trench coat for the first time.

"Why didn't you report this before the meeting?" Ace demanded, his tone dripping with danger.

"I was granted top-level access ten minutes ago," Delinda answered, her chin lifting a fraction of an inch. "This was the fastest way to stop the bleeding."

Ace's index finger tapped slowly against the mahogany table. Tap. Tap. Tap.

The silence in the room was suffocating.

Suddenly, Ace let out a short, cold laugh. "Fire the head of the European division. Put Warren on administrative leave pending an investigation."

The meeting was over. The executives scrambled out of the room like they were escaping a burning building.

Ace stood up. He walked toward the door, passing right by Delinda.

He stopped.

The scent of cedar and citrus hit his senses, clean and sharp.

Ace tilted his head slightly toward her. "Good job," he murmured, his voice a low rumble meant only for her.

Delinda's breath hitched. That deep, gravelly voice sent a violent shiver down her spine. The familiarity of it made her stomach twist into a knot.

Ace walked out, the frosted glass doors of his office closing behind him.

Delinda's hands were shaking. She gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white.

She walked back to her desk and pulled up the internal HR system. She typed in the CEO's name.

Ace Suarez. Unmarried. Long-term resident of Europe.

Delinda let out a harsh breath and shook her head. She was losing her mind. Her absentee husband couldn't be this Wall Street oligarch.

Inside the CEO's office, Ace loosened his silk tie. He stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows, listening to his chief of staff, Julian.

Julian handed him a file. "Sir, your grandmother called again. She wants to know when you are going to Brooklyn to pick up your wife, Mrs. Suarez."