His Secret Wife: A Dangerous Game

By three in the afternoon, Delinda's feet were numb. She had stood beside Ace through a grueling four-hour global teleconference.

They moved in perfect sync. Every time Ace reached out his hand, Delinda placed the exact document he needed into his palm before he even asked.

They walked back into his private office. Ace pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders tight with exhaustion.

Delinda handed him a glass of room-temperature water.

Ace took it. He looked at her. "Thank you."

Delinda gave a small nod and turned to leave to type up the meeting minutes.

A harsh buzzing sound vibrated against the wood of the desk. Ace's private, encrypted phone was ringing. The caller ID flashed "Matilda."

Ace's face darkened instantly. The muscles in his jaw clenched tight. He picked up the phone.

"What?" he snapped, his voice rough.

Delinda froze by the door. She shouldn't be hearing this.

"I know," Ace growled into the phone, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll buy her a gift... No, I am not going to Brooklyn."

He threw the phone onto the desk. It skidded and hit a pen cup.

The air pressure in the room plummeted. Delinda couldn't breathe.

Ace looked up. His dark eyes locked onto Delinda standing by the door.

Delinda swallowed hard. "I'll leave you to your privacy, sir."

"Wait," Ace said. His voice was tight, almost strained. "Howell. If a woman... hasn't seen her husband in a year. What kind of compensation should he buy her?"

Delinda's brain misfired.

She stared at him. "Are you talking about... your partner, sir?"

Ace looked away, staring at the wall. "My wife."

A sharp, physical sting hit the center of Delinda's chest.

This ruthless, terrifying oligarch was married. And from the venom in his voice, he despised the woman he was tied to.

Delinda forced her facial muscles to remain completely still. She put on her professional mask.

"It depends on her tastes, sir," Delinda said smoothly. "If it is purely material compensation, high jewelry or limited-edition handbags are standard."

Ace let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Oh, she definitely needs the material things."

The absolute disgust in his voice made Delinda's stomach turn. She felt a sudden, bizarre wave of sympathy for the unknown woman sitting at home, waiting for a husband who spoke about her like she was a parasite.

"I can contact a personal shopper at 5th Avenue for you," Delinda offered, her tone dropping ten degrees.

Ace noticed the shift in her voice. His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "Do it."

Delinda walked out of the office and pulled the door shut. She leaned against the wall for a second, pressing a hand to her chest.

Julian walked by and whispered, "Why is he in a mood?"

Delinda shook her head. She walked to her desk and opened a browser, searching for high-end diamonds.

She had no idea she was curating a list of apologies meant for herself.