Chapter 5
James
James tossed the Longford file onto the center of his solid mahogany desk.
The endless demands of the acquisitions team irritated him.
He rubbed his temples, tired of the relentless questions from the junior partners.
Yet, sitting in the corner office overlooking the city, he thrived on the power.
He controlled the board, he managed his pristine public image, and he manipulated every lie he fed his wife without breaking a sweat.
The office door clicked open.
Amanda walked in without knocking. She wore a tailored crimson skirt and a teasing, confident smile that James knew perfectly. He smiled back, pushing his leather executive chair away from the desk. He wanted the distraction.
"You look like you need help focusing on those reports," she murmured, walking around the edge of his desk. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor.
She did not wait for an invitation. She dropped to her knees right between his legs. James leaned back in his chair, giving in to the situation. He felt wanted, powerful, and fully in control.
She unbuckled his leather belt with practiced ease.
"When are you going to leave her, James?
" she asked, her voice provocative. "I am tired of waiting.
I want us living together. I do not understand why you are still tied to a woman like Olivia.
She is so painfully plain. Hiding that doughy body and those thick thighs in ugly aprons all day. "
James reached down, his fingers tangling in her dark hair. "We need to take things carefully. If we rush, it could all go wrong."
He was not thinking about Olivia's feelings. He was thinking about his reputation. A messy divorce would complicate his bonuses and his standing with the senior partners. He needed to secure his assets, manage the narrative, and get out of the marriage while losing as little money as possible.
"You are too cautious," Amanda accused, stroking his cock. "Olivia is naive. She would never suspect anything. You could do this right in front of her face, and she would still try to find an innocent explanation."
James liked hearing that. It fed his ego.
He felt vastly superior, knowing Olivia would never see who he truly was.
Amanda was reckless, but her boldness represented everything he wanted right now: desire, constant validation, and the thrilling risk of owing nothing to anyone.
Amanda leaned forward, taking him into her mouth with a wet slide.
James groaned deep in his throat, his fingers twisting into her dark hair to hold her firm.
The intimacy was brutal and selfish, a raw display of ownership that fed the darkest, most arrogant parts of him.
Two knocks hit the office door.
James ignored it. Amanda did not stop her movements, her mouth curving into a wicked smile against his skin.
A few seconds later, the brass handle turned. The door opened.
James reacted fast, shoving his chair flush against the desk edge. His heart kicked into a violent rhythm. The solid wood modesty panel covering the front of the desk shielded the space beneath it.
Olivia stood in the doorway.
James gripped the armrests, his knuckles turning white. He realized right away that the desk hid Amanda perfectly. He clung to that stroke of luck.
"Olivia," James said, forcing his voice to sound normal. At the exact same time, he dropped his right hand below the desk, pressing his palm firmly onto Amanda’s shoulder—a wordless warning for her to stay exactly where she was and make no sound.
"Sandra wasn't at her desk," Olivia explained, stepping just inside the room. She seemed a little surprised by his rigid posture, but she still tried to offer a bright smile. "Her computer showed you were out of meetings, so I just came in. I was nearby and thought I could pick you up for lunch."
The contrast was brutal. She stood there wearing a pretty floral dress and fresh lipstick, offering him affection, wanting to spend time with her husband. Meanwhile, he was hiding his mistress behind his desk.
James tried to keep his face neutral. He was caught between the sheer panic of being discovered, intense irritation that Olivia showed up without warning, and the twisted thrill of the danger.
Amanda, hidden from view, took him deeper into her mouth, the suction almost making him moan aloud, testing his control and showing blatant disregard for his wife's presence.
"What are you doing here?" James asked. His tone came out colder, much harsher than it should have.
Olivia faltered, her smile fading. "I... I just wanted to have lunch with you."
For a brief second, James noticed the effort she made. He saw the hopeful expression he had been avoiding for months. But instead of remorse, he only felt a spike of urgent annoyance. He wanted her gone before everything fell apart.
"I need to make a quick call before leaving," he told her, his jaw tight. "Go ahead and get us a table at the restaurant on the fourth floor."
Olivia hesitated. Her brow furrowed. She took a step farther into the office, moving toward the front of the desk.
James stiffened, his pulse hammering against his ribs. "Go. Now."
His command cracked like a whip. It was too commanding, too aggressive. He forced himself to take a breath, trying to soften the delivery. "I just need to handle one call, Liv. We can talk properly at lunch."
Olivia frowned. Hurt and confusion flashed in her green eyes, but she agreed.
"Okay," she said, her voice small. She turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind her.
As soon as the latch clicked, James remained perfectly still. He listened intently, tracking the sound of her heels moving away down the carpeted hallway. He needed to ensure she was not turning back.
Only then did he push his chair back and look down at Amanda.
Amanda wiped her mouth, looking deeply pleased by the risk. She showed zero remorse. She seemed highly amused, her dark eyes sparkling with the excitement of almost being caught.
"You are reckless," James muttered, adjusting his posture. "You did not even lock the door. We could have been caught."
Amanda offered a teasing smirk. "Maybe I have been a bad girl. What do you plan to do about it?"
James smiled, still irritated, but undeniably drawn to her nerve. "Later, I am going to your apartment, and I will show you exactly how you are supposed to behave. But for now, finish what you started."
He chose the betrayal. He had the chance to stop, to feel guilt, to walk out that door and go after his wife, but he chose to stay in the chair.
He looked down at Amanda with sordid satisfaction, filled with emotional contempt for the woman waiting for him upstairs.
He guided Amanda's head, setting a ruthless, punishing rhythm.
She took every deep thrust flawlessly, her hands gripping his thighs as the friction built to an agonizing peak.
The sheer audacity of the moment pushed him over the edge.
He came with a harsh, muffled grunt, his grip tightening in her hair as he emptied into her mouth.
Amanda swallowed every drop, her tongue flicking out to clean him thoroughly before she finally pulled away.
Amanda stood up and smoothed her crimson skirt.
She leaned down, kissing him in an intimate, possessive way. "Do not take too long at lunch with her, or I will get jealous."
James liked that. He liked Amanda demanding ownership over him. He liked knowing Olivia was waiting upstairs without any idea that another woman commanded his time and his body.
"I won't be long," he assured her.
Amanda checked the hallway before slipping out of the office unnoticed.
James remained alone. He stood up, tucking in his shirt and adjusting his silk tie. He walked over to the small en-suite bathroom, washing his hands and studying his reflection in the mirror. He easily recovered the image of a respectable executive, a functional husband, a man in total control.
He thought about Olivia waiting for him at the restaurant.
A very small part of his brain recognized that she just wanted to get closer to him.
She was trying to save their marriage. He buried the thought without a second of hesitation.
Olivia was too needy. She was too emotional and far too easy to manipulate.
He did not have the patience for her insecurities.
All he needed to do was get through the meal, act normal, and return to his double life.
When James arrived at the restaurant on the fourth floor, he found Olivia sitting at a corner table. She had the menu open, and she looked relieved the second she saw him. She tried to smile as he sat down across from her.
"Is everything okay?" she asked, her eyes scanning his face.
"Yes," James replied smoothly, unfolding his linen napkin. "It was only work."
The dialogue between them felt strained. Olivia tried her best to make conversation.
"How is your day going?" she asked, her voice laced with vulnerability. "I thought it would be nice for us to have lunch together. We have not done this in a while."
"It's fine," James said, giving a vague answer. He picked up his phone, checking a notification. "Just dealing with the Longford accounts."
He gave her short replies, physically present but emotionally entirely removed. His mind remained in the office with Amanda, reliving the thrill of the risk and the lie he maintained with such ease.
Olivia noticed his distance. She picked at the edge of her placemat. "Did I interrupt something by showing up at your office?"
"No," James lied effortlessly, not even looking up from his screen.
"You seemed really tense," she pressed, searching his face.
"You are overthinking, Liv."
Olivia dropped her gaze to the table.
James watched her take the blame. He did not even need to craft a perfect lie, because Olivia did the work for him. She searched for innocent explanations, eager to fill the gaps with anything less painful than the truth. She desperately wanted to believe her husband.
James took a sip of his ice water, watching her from across the table. He lied with flawless ease, feeling invincible. He thought everything was perfectly under control. He had his wife, his mistress, and his career right where he wanted them.