Chapter 3
I spent three days preparing for this dinner party.
Three days of menu planning, wine selecting, flower arranging, and obsessing over every detail because this was Lewis's first time hosting his new colleagues since the promotion.
The people in our dining room tonight could make or break his trajectory toward the C-suite, and I was determined to be the perfect executive wife.
The roast was resting on the counter, filling the kitchen with the smell of rosemary and garlic.
The table was set with our wedding china, the good crystal, the linen napkins I'd had pressed at the dry cleaners.
Candles flickered in silver holders, casting warm shadows across the walls, and I'd even hired a bartender for the evening so Lewis and I could focus on being charming instead of mixing drinks.
I looked good. I knew I looked good. The emerald blue dress I'd chosen hugged my curves in all the right places, the neckline low enough to be interesting without being inappropriate.
My hair was swept up, exposing the diamond earrings Lewis had given me for our twentieth anniversary, and my makeup was flawless.
Subtle. Sophisticated. The kind of beauty that came from knowing exactly who you were and owning it completely.
"You look stunning." Lewis appeared behind me as I did a final check of the dining room, his hands settling on my hips. He pressed a kiss to my bare shoulder, and I felt the familiar shiver run down my spine. "Have I told you lately how lucky I am?"
"You could stand to mention it more often." But I smiled, leaning back into him. This was what I'd wanted. This was us, working as a team, building something together. "Are you ready for tonight?"
"With you by my side? Always."
The doorbell rang, and the evening began.
The Levis arrived first. Pierce was the CFO, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of quiet authority that came from controlling billions of dollars.
His wife Maxinet was elegant and sharp, dripping in understated jewelry and the confidence of old money.
We'd met at several corporate functions, and I liked her dry sense of humor and her complete lack of tolerance for bullshit.
Then came the Booths. Cameron ran mergers and acquisitions, a shark in a bespoke suit with a surprisingly warm laugh. His husband Fletcher was an art dealer, charming and cultured, and he immediately complimented the Rothko print above our fireplace with genuine appreciation.
Finally, the Parks. Coen was being groomed for CEO succession, which made him Lewis's primary competition for the next rung on the ladder.
His wife Isla was a former model turned philanthropist, all cheekbones and practiced grace, and I caught her assessing me the moment she walked through the door. Competition recognized competition.
Cocktails flowed smoothly. Conversation sparkled.
I guided discussions about summer travel plans and charitable foundations and the new restaurant that had just opened downtown, steering away from politics and toward safe, pleasant waters.
Lewis worked the room like the natural he was, his hand occasionally finding the small of my back, his eyes meeting mine across the room with that private smile that used to make me feel like the only woman in the world.
This was good. This was what we were good at.
And then the doorbell rang again.
I felt my stomach drop before I even opened the door. Some part of me knew. Some primal instinct that had been honed over months of watching this woman circle my marriage like a vulture waiting for something to die.
Chloe stood on my porch in a cocktail dress that probably cost more than her weekly paycheck.
It was black, short, and tight, with a neckline that plunged nearly to her navel.
Her hair was down in loose waves, her makeup dramatic and sultry, and she was clutching a leather portfolio against her chest with those big innocent eyes already working overtime.
"Julianne! Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry to interrupt." She peered past me into the house, taking in the dinner party with poorly concealed satisfaction. "I had no idea you were entertaining. Lewis mentioned he had something tonight, but I didn't realize it was a whole event."
"What are you doing here, Chloe?"
"I have documents that need Lewis's signature.
Urgently." She held up the portfolio like it was a hall pass.
"Mr. Patinson called an emergency board meeting for Monday morning, and these absolutely cannot wait.
I tried calling Lewis, but he didn't answer, so I thought I'd just swing by quickly. In and out, I promise."
She was lying. I could see it in the way her eyes kept darting past me, hungry for access. There was no emergency. There were no urgent documents. This was calculated. Planned. She'd known about the dinner party and she'd dressed for it.
"Give me the documents," I said flatly. "I'll have Lewis sign them and leave them on the porch for you."
"Oh, but I really should walk him through a few things. There are some nuances in the language that..." She trailed off as Lewis appeared behind me, his expression shifting from confusion to that goddamn delighted smile.
"Chloe? What's going on?"
"Lewis, I'm so sorry." She did the doe eyes at him now, her lower lip actually trembling.
"I know this is terrible timing, but the Patinson contracts have an issue and I didn't know what else to do.
I've been trying to handle it myself all day, but it's above my pay grade and I just...
" Her voice cracked artfully. "I'm really sorry. I know I'm interrupting."
"Hey, it's okay." Lewis stepped around me and I felt his absence like a physical loss. "You did the right thing coming here. Let's take a look at what we're dealing with."
"Lewis." I kept my voice low. "We have guests."
"This will just take a minute, Jules. Why don't you go keep everyone entertained?" He was already guiding Chloe toward his study, his hand on her bare back, and I watched her glance over her shoulder at me with a smile that was pure poison.
I stood in my own foyer, in my own emerald blue dress, at my own dinner party, and watched my husband walk away with another woman.
Breathe. Just breathe.
I returned to the dining room with my hostess smile firmly in place. "Small work emergency. Lewis will be right back."
"The life of an executive," Pierce said sympathetically. "It never stops, does it?"
"Never." I topped off wineglasses and steered conversation toward Maxinet's recent trip to Tuscany, but my attention kept drifting toward the hallway. Toward the closed door of Lewis's study. Toward whatever was happening behind it.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. I served the first course, making excuses about Lewis being thorough, being dedicated, being the kind of leader who didn't let things fall through the cracks. The guests were gracious, but I could see the glances exchanged across the table. The curiosity. The judgment.
When Lewis finally emerged, Chloe was with him. And somehow, impossibly, she was no longer clutching her portfolio defensively. She was laughing at something he'd said, her hand on his arm, her body angled toward him like a flower seeking sun.
"Crisis averted," Lewis announced cheerfully. "Sorry about that, everyone. You know how it is."
"We certainly do." Coen's tone was mild, but his eyes were sharp as he looked between Lewis and the beautiful young woman attached to his arm. "I don't think we've met. Coen Park."
"Oh, I'm Chloe. Lewis's assistant." She said it with a breathy little laugh, like the title was somehow inadequate. "I'm so sorry to crash your dinner party. I was just leaving."
"Nonsense." And this was the moment. The moment I could have intervened, could have graciously shown her to the door, could have maintained some semblance of control over my own home.
But Lewis spoke before I could, his voice warm and expansive.
"Stay for dinner, Chloe. We have plenty of food, and you've been working so hard. It's the least we can do."
I felt every eye in the room shift to me. Waiting. Watching.
"Of course," I heard myself say. "The more the merrier."
Chloe's smile was radiant. Triumphant. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose on Julianne. I know how much work goes into hosting something like this."
"It's fine." My voice sounded strange to my own ears. Distant. Like it was coming from somewhere outside my body. "I'll set another place."
I walked to the kitchen on autopilot. My hands trembled slightly as I pulled another plate from the cabinet, another set of silverware from the drawer. I could hear laughter from the dining room, Chloe's voice bright and animated as she introduced herself to the other guests.
When I returned, she'd taken the seat next to Lewis. The seat that should have been mine.
I sat at the opposite side of the table from him, and watched as Chloe commanded the room.
She was good, I had to admit. Charming and self-deprecating, asking all the right questions, making everyone feel like they were the most interesting person she'd ever met.
The men were captivated. Even the women seemed reluctantly charmed.
And Lewis. My husband. He watched her like she was performing magic tricks, his eyes bright with something that looked horribly like pride.
The roast I'd spent hours preparing turned to ash in my mouth.
"So Chloe," Isla said, her voice deceptively casual. "How long have you been working with Lewis?"
"Almost seven months now." Chloe beamed. "He's an incredible mentor. I've learned so much from him. He's so patient and attentive, always making time for me even when he's busy."
Her eyes met mine across the table. Patient and attentive. Making time for her.
"That's Lewis." I forced the words out. "Always dedicated to developing young talent."
"He really is." Chloe turned that megawatt smile back to him. "I honestly don't know what I'd do without him. He's changed my whole career trajectory."