Our Affairs
For three long years, my husband Richard has refused to touch me. All because of one tragic accident that stole our three-month-old baby... an accident that wasn't even my fault.
I tried everything to win him back. I begged, I cried, I seduced. Nothing worked.
Desperate and burning with unmet desire, I found myself drawn to my new boss, Teddy. With one smoldering look, he awakens the fire I thought had died inside me. I crave him. I need him. But I'm still married... and I still love Richard with all my heart.
Then came the business trip that shattered everything.
In a single night, I discovered Richard's secret-he's been cheating on me all along.
Rage and years of pent-up hunger collided. That night, I finally unleashed.
But after the trip what becomes of me, my husband and my boss, even his lover.
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Chapter 2
That Saturday evening I escaped to my favorite dimly lit bar, the one with the low jazz and amber lighting that made everything feel like a secret. I ordered my usual-a dirty martini, extra olives-and then another. And another. Richard had left again that morning for another "critical" trip. No goodbye kiss. No promise of when he'd be back. Just the sound of the front door closing behind him like a full stop.
By the fourth cocktail, the room tilted softly. My anger had curdled into something sharper-grief, maybe, or self-loathing. I replayed our last fight in vicious loops.
I'd cornered him in the bedroom, voice cracking.
"Tell me what I've done. Tell me why you treat me like I disgust you."
He'd caught my wrists when I shoved at his chest, not hard, just desperate.
"Get a grip, Payton," he'd said quietly, eyes flat. "I'll be back in a week. We'll talk then."
Then he walked out
Now the alcohol burned behind my eyes. I pushed off the stool, unsteady, determined to get home before I embarrassed myself further.
The floor rushed up.
Strong arms caught me before I hit the tiles.
That scent-clean cedar, expensive aftershave, something darkly masculine-hit me like memory.
I looked up through the haze.
Teddy.
"Oh great," I slurred, laughing once, bitterly. "Now I'm hallucinating."
My hand lifted on its own, fingertip tracing the sharp line of his jaw, then brushing across his lips.
"Oh, Teddy..."
He caught my finger gently between his teeth-a small, teasing bite-then released it.
"Are you drunk?" Concern edged his voice, but his eyes were dark, pupils blown.
Instead of answering, I surged up and kissed him.
It was reckless, hungry, three years of pent-up want poured into one collision. His mouth opened under mine instantly, hot and sure. His hands found my waist, pulling me flush against him until there was no space left for guilt. I moaned into the kiss as his tongue slid against mine-slow, claiming-and my fingers curled into his shirt like I'd drown if I let go.
We broke apart gasping, foreheads pressed together, his breath ragged against my swollen lips.
"Wow," he whispered, the word rough.
My head was spinning, but clarity was creeping back in cruel waves.
"What... what is happening right now?"
He tilted my chin up with two fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"What do you mean?"
"I must be very drunk. I'm so sorry." I tried to step back.
His hand closed around my wrist-not tight, just enough to stop me.
"Where are you going?"
I stared at him, chest heaving.
"What's wrong? Teddy, I'm married. This never happened. I have to go."
"At least let me take you home."
I closed my eyes, took a shaky breath.
"You don't have to. I'm... I'm sober enough now. I'll take a taxi."
I pulled free and walked away on trembling legs, feeling his stare burn into my back the entire way to the door.
Monday morning the elevator bank was crowded, air thick with coffee breath and Monday dread.My phone buzzed.
Richard: Baby! Sorry for not messaging sooner. Been slammed. Will call later. Love you.
I stared at the screen until it blurred, then shoved the phone into my bag without replying.
A warm presence appeared at my side.
Teddy.
I kept my eyes on the floor numbers, cheeks burning.
"Good morning, sir," I mumbled.
The doors opened. People shuffled out. We stepped in. The doors closed-and suddenly it was just us.
He moved in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.
"Don't even think of avoiding me," he said quietly.
His hand rose, fingertips stroking slowly through the blunt ends of my hair, tucking a strand behind my ear.
"Sir, please," I whispered, the plea thin and unconvincing.
"I told you," he said, voice dropping lower, "call me Teddy."
Those eyes-storm-dark now, unblinking-held mine hostage.
The elevator dinged. Doors slid open.
He stepped back smoothly, as though nothing had happened.
"Come to my office," he said loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, already walking away. "I need to talk to you."
I stood rooted in the hallway, heart slamming against my ribs.
I glanced around-no one was watching. Phones, conversations, rushing footsteps. Business as usual.
I swallowed hard.
Guilt and want twisted together in my stomach, sharp and sickening.
I should turn around. Go back to my desk. Pretend the weekend never happened.
Instead my feet moved.
One step.
Then another.
By the time I reached his door, my pulse was deafening. Pleasure-hot, traitorous-curled low in my belly, warring with the shame that tasted like bile.
I lifted my hand to knock.
Even if I denied myself, every trembling inch of me was already screaming for him.
I stood outside his door for what felt like an eternity, heart slamming against my ribs so hard I was sure the entire floor could hear it. One deep, shaky breath. Then another. My fingers curled into a fist, nails biting into my palm, before I finally raised my hand and knocked-three soft, uncertain taps.
The door opened almost instantly.
Teddy didn't speak. He simply reached out, fingers closing around my wrist like a manacle made of heat, and pulled me inside with one swift, possessive tug. The door clicked shut behind us before I could even draw a full breath. My back hit the wall with a soft thud, and suddenly he was everywhere-his body pinning mine, one thigh sliding between my legs, hands braced on either side of my head.
"I want you," he growled against my ear, voice rough and low. His tongue traced the sensitive shell, then dipped lower to flick the spot just behind my lobe-my secret weakness, the one that always turned my knees to liquid.
A broken sound escaped me. My hands flew to his biceps, gripping hard to keep from collapsing. "Teddy..."
He lifted his head just enough to look at me-those blue eyes dark with raw hunger. I felt the thick, insistent press of his arousal against my thigh, hot and unyielding through our clothes. My breath hitched. God, someone drag me out of here before I beg.
His hand moved between us, cupping one breast through my blouse, thumb circling the already-hard nipple until I arched involuntarily. "I can't take it anymore, Payton," he rasped, voice fraying at the edges. "I need you beneath me. I need to feel my cock buried deep inside you-slow at first, then hard. So hard you forget every other name but mine."
" Please stop I..I can't do this." I whispered but didn't push him away.
He leaned in and licked the seam of my parted lips, tasting me, teasing, before claiming my mouth in a kiss that felt like possession. Savage. Desperate. His free hand slid to my thigh, hooking under my knee and lifting one of my leg to wrap around his hip. My skirt rode up as his palm glided higher, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my ass with bruising force.
"Fuck," he groaned into my mouth, the word vibrating against my tongue.
I was lost. Every starved nerve in my body screamed for more. Three years of denial had left me hollow, aching, and now every cell was alight with the promise of being filled, stretched, taken. I wanted it rough. I wanted the edge of pain that would finally drown out the emptiness. I wanted him to fuck me until I couldn't remember why I'd ever tried to resist.
Please," he whispered against the frantic pulse at my neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire down to my collarbone. "Let me fuck you, Payton. Please."
The words stopped me cold.
Wait-what am I doing?
Slowly, I dropped my leg and pushed him away, my hands shaking.
"Please... I can't do this," I said,
breathless. "I'm married."
He was breathing just as hard.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
But he didn't listen. He pressed me back against the wall, tried to kiss me again. I turned my face away-
-and then the office phone rang, shattering the moment.
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7.9
For years, Elara Park endured being called "half-breed" and "weak blood" at pack meetings. Because she was a hybrid wolf, she trusted Zack Blackwood's sweet promises.
Then he rejected their fated mate bond moments after claiming her body.
Before she could even breathe through the soul-crushing agony, the news was already celebrating his engagement to her vindictive stepsister, Selina. The headlines gushed about their "perfect pureblooded union."
Her mother's call came like a final blow: "Elara, you're twenty-three now. It's time you contributed to the family."
Marry the worthless second son of a prominent Alpha family or lose her father's empire forever. They had her trapped, ready to steal her birthright and leave her powerless.
But as the heartbreak bled out, ice-cold determination took its place.
Elara went to the arranged meeting at the city's most exclusive club, determined to turn her mother's matchmaking scheme to her advantage. She would agree to marriage-but on her own terms.
When she found who she believed was Damian Sterling in the private suite, she cut straight to business: a contract marriage with clear boundaries, separate lives, and a guaranteed escape route.
What she didn't know? The devastatingly dangerous man who'd just signed her contract with a predator's smile wasn't the pathetic playboy she expected.
He was Dominic Wolfe-the Alpha King who'd been relentlessly hunting her for years.
And now, she'd just signed herself over to him completely.
9.7
I was seven years into a perfect relationship, engaged to the man who helped me overcome my fear of commitment. I was even secretly pregnant with our first child.
A pet-sitting gig led me straight into the heart of his betrayal-a luxury apartment he shared with his mistress of a year. She had hired me personally to discover it all.
She then framed me for stealing the family ring he had promised me. At the police station, my fiancé rushed in not to defend me, but to shield her.
When I confronted him, he shoved me. Hard.
I hit the floor and lost our baby.
In the hospital, he had the audacity to beg for forgiveness, promising we could just "try again."
I saw the guilt in his eyes and used it. I made him sign over every asset we owned as penance. The moment the money was mine, I vanished. He thought he was buying my forgiveness.
He was funding my revenge.
8.1
On my wedding day, the wedding planner looked at me with pity in her eyes.
She told me the groom had called with a last-minute request. He wanted the name on the floral arch changed from "Elena" to "Sofia."
Five years of loyalty to Dante Romero, and I found out he was planning a "secret" ceremony with his mistress an hour before ours.
He claimed she was dying of cancer. He said it was her final wish to be a bride, and that as a good mafia wife, I should understand. He swore it was just charity.
But I had seen the texts where he called me "furniture."
I had watched him step over my body when I fell down the stairs at a club, just so he could leave with her.
And this morning, I watched Sofia walk into the hotel lobby wearing *my* custom French lace wedding dress, smirking as she clung to his arm.
Dante thinks I'm crying in the bridal suite.
He thinks I will sit in the front row of his "fake" wedding and wait for my turn like a dutiful puppet.
He is wrong.
I wiped my tears and picked up my phone. I didn't cancel the wedding date. I just changed the location to the ballroom next door.
And I changed the groom.
As Dante says his vows to his mistress, I am walking down the aisle to meet the only man the Romero family fears.
The Reaper.
7.5
Daisy spent her birthday cooking a perfect dinner, waiting in their massive penthouse for her billionaire husband, Emmett.
Instead of coming home, a breaking news alert flashed on her screen: Emmett was at the hospital, protectively shielding his old flame, Eryn. When Daisy rushed to the VIP ward, Emmett physically blocked her to comfort a crying Eryn, completely forgetting it was his wife's birthday.
Heartbroken, Daisy demanded a divorce and fled. In response, Emmett ruthlessly froze all her bank accounts and trust funds, leaving her penniless in the freezing Manhattan rain. When she cornered him with divorce papers at a public funeral, a heavy metal cart slammed into her, tearing her calf wide open. Bleeding onto the marble floor, she begged him to sign. Instead, Emmett violently ripped the bloody papers to shreds.
"Unless I am dead, you are my wife," he snarled, locking her inside a room.
Daisy risked her life to escape through a window, dragging her bleeding leg to a dingy motel. But the real nightmare began when Eryn called. The tragic car crash that killed Daisy's adoptive parents ten years ago wasn't an accident—the brake lines were cut. And Emmett, the man she loved, had been using his vast corporate empire to protect the murderers all along.
Why did Emmett bury the police report? What was the deadly secret behind her true identity and the antique "Venus" necklace? Staring at her blood-stained hands in the cracked mirror, the terrified wife died. Daisy grabbed her coat and limped out into the dark, heading straight for the Navy Yard to burn his empire to the ground.
9.6
For five years, Elyse loved Trevor with everything she had, yet it meant nothing when his former lover returned-pregnant.
Reduced to the city's joke, Elyse chose dignity and handed him divorce papers, walking away with nothing.
But when both women fell into the water, he didn't hesitate-he saved the other.
"I'm sorry... she's pregnant," he said, shattering what remained of her love.
She disappeared without a trace. Three years later, she returned as a world-renowned actress, radiant and untouchable.
When Trevor knelt before her, begging, "Don't leave me..." She only watched, her heart long turned cold.
He pleaded, "Please give me another chance, okay?"
9.0
Angelena was the proud heiress of the wealthy Beasley family, until a single drink shattered her life.
Drugged by her jealous cousin and best friend, she stumbled into the wrong hotel suite and lost her innocence to a terrifying, authoritative stranger.
The next morning, reporters burst through the door, their camera flashes blinding her.
"Look at this mess! You were so desperate for money you'd sleep with some old man?"
Her cousin orchestrated the entire scandal to steal her inheritance. Her grandmother publicly disowned her, stripped her of her trust fund, and banished her from New York in absolute disgrace.
Seven months later, bleeding out in a freezing off-the-grid cabin, Angelena gave birth to quadruplets.
But as she slipped into unconsciousness, a corrupt black-market midwife stole her two newborn sons and sold them into the blizzard, leaving Angelena with only her twin daughters.
She clutched the single platinum cufflink the stranger had left behind, her heart shattered. She couldn't understand why her own blood relatives would destroy her so viciously, or who the monster was that took her innocence.
But the agonizing betrayal ignited a white-hot, burning vow for revenge.
Five years later, she returned to the city not as a broken outcast, but as a legendary underground doctor and a ruthless biotech CEO.
And the very first billionaire she clashed with was Fabian Richmond, a paranoid tyrant who unknowingly possessed her stolen sons—and the exact same platinum crest.