His Unwanted Wife Demands A Divorce

Coralie stood in the corner of the hotel lobby. She watched the elevator numbers light up. Her fingers dug hard into her palms.

She pulled out her secondary work phone, a private number she strictly used for discreet corporate PR tasks. She dialed Isla Vance's number. Isla was an escort she had hired once for a corporate PR crisis.

"I need you at the Waldorf Astoria lobby right now," Coralie said into the phone. "I will pay double your hourly rate."

She hung up before Isla could argue. She walked over to the front desk. She used Alec's black card to order a strong black coffee and aspirin to the penthouse suite.

She took the service elevator back up. She slipped quietly into the outer living room of the suite.

Just as she closed the door, a low, painful groan came from the bedroom. Alec was awake.

Coralie adjusted her breathing. She switched into her cold, efficient executive assistant mode.

She picked up the room service tray. She walked into the bedroom with steady steps.

Alec was sitting up in the messy bed. He was pressing his fingers hard against his temples. The silk blanket slipped down, exposing his bare chest.

His eyes scanned the room like radar. They instantly locked onto the massive, dark red wine stain on the bedsheets.

His gaze turned dangerous. He rubbed his forehead, trying to piece together the wild, burning sensory memories of last night.

He looked up and saw Coralie standing by the door in her stiff business suit. His frown deepened.

"Who was the woman in my bed last night?" Alec demanded. His voice was hoarse and laced with anger.

Coralie looked straight into his eyes. Her voice was completely flat. "She was the date you brought back from the charity gala, sir."

Alec pinched the bridge of his nose. "I blacked out. But she didn't feel like a random woman."

Coralie's heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She kept her face blank. "She spilled the wine on purpose to demand more hush money."

Alec let out a cold laugh. "Bring her up here. Now. I want to see her face."

Coralie gave a slight nod. "Yes, sir."

She turned and left the bedroom. A layer of cold sweat coated her palms.

She took the elevator down to the lobby bar. She found Isla Vance sitting there, wearing a tight dress and heavy makeup.

Coralie handed Isla a thick envelope full of cash. She quickly explained the spilled wine and the hush money story.

Isla took the envelope and winked. "Don't worry, honey. I know exactly how to handle rich guys with hangovers."

Coralie brought Isla back up to the penthouse. She told Isla to go into the bedroom alone. Coralie stayed in the living room, listening by the door.

Alec's voice was ice-cold. He fired questions at Isla. Isla stuttered through the script Coralie gave her.

Less than two minutes later, Alec yelled, "Get out!"

Isla stumbled out of the bedroom. Her face was pale. She shrugged at Coralie, grabbed her purse, and ran out of the suite.

Alec walked out of the bedroom wearing a bathrobe. His dark eyes locked onto Coralie. He took slow, threatening steps toward her.

His tall frame cast a heavy shadow over her. "Where were you all night, Coralie?"

Coralie's fingernails dug deeper into her palms. "I went back to the corporate office to finish the quarterly reports. I slept at my desk."

Alec narrowed his eyes. He stared at her pale lips and her tight jawline. He was evaluating every word she said.

The silence stretched. Coralie felt like she was suffocating.

Finally, he looked away. "Get the car ready. We are going to the office."

A seed of doubt had been planted.