HIS FIRST LADY(SANDRO MARCOS)

Chapter 1: You Wouldn't Want To Be Hurt.

During the dinner celebration for my husband's promotion to CEO, I feel incredibly proud of him. However, being a full-time homemaker, I am constantly busy looking after our two daughters.

The kids always have so many things to pickup- I bemoan as I poke my head under the tablecloth to recover their latest dropped toys.

I notice my sister Kaylee's stocking-covered legs provocatively rubbing against my husband's trousers.

The remainder of the occasion is a haze. All I can recall is that after dinner ends and Kaylee departs, the stockings she was wearing are missing.

I ask the driver to take my two daughters home first. When I am alone with Samuel , I find Kaylee's missing stocking in his pocket.

"Are you sleeping with my sister?" I shudder.
"I can't believe- Why?"

His gaze trails down my body, and with every inch, his face scrunches further in disgust.

"Look at you," he says.

I glance down at my shapely figure underneath . I am not ultra-thin size 0 I was when we met in college, but I've work hard post-giving birth to keep a healthy, albeit curvy, shape.

"You're no longer young," he closes his eyes and shakes his head.
"Kaylee, Meanwhile, is everything you are not."

"Eight years younger?" I ask.

He opens his eyes again just to glare once more.
"She cares about herself. Her skin is perfection, and that blonde hair..."

"Came from a box." I know the exact number.

"She's beautiful," Samuel says with a satisfied little smile. "So why shouldn't I? I provide for this family. I give you a home. You don't have to work. Can't I have anything for myself?"

"Have you forgotten that you were promoted because of me and my family? I don't understand why you are so cold...."

"Your family?" Samuel scoffs. "It's not your family, it's your adoptive family. Kaylee is your parent's real daughter."

"I want a divorce," I say.

He laughs. "Don't be ridiculous. Me being with Kaylee benefits you too."

"How could that possibly be true?"

"My sleeping with her helps cement our ties to your family. We can't lose those connections."

We never had any fear of losing those relationships. Despite the fact that I am adopted, my family still views me as one of their own.

"An open marriage is the best choice," Samuel says.

I'm too stunned to reply.

"You're hysterical," he says, misconstruing my shock. " We'll talk about this in the morning."

I have endured a great deal from him during the years. I've made an effort to keep our marriage going. I've given up my goals and desires in order to stay at home with the kids. to maintain the house. For me to be the housewife he desired, but this? This is excessive.

My family is politically connected, and they have supported every one of my skills. My contacts have been important in his professional growth. My buddies are the ones who have recommended him. My advice that was heard correctly is what made him become CEO. I want no recognition. I don't require praise. Respect is what I'm after.

"Come out with me tonight," says Cloudine, my best friend, when I tell her what happened over the phone.

I've already tucked in the girls, but after, instead of going to the bedroom with Samuel, I've returned to his study.

"I have an in to get us into a new place," Cloudine continues.
"It's really popular right now. It will be fun. Get your mind off of everything. Like when we used to hang out in college."

"I should check with Samuel," I say on reflex. The words turn to ash in my mouth.

Cloudine snorts belligerently. "After what he's done?Why?"

I don't have a good answer, which is now I find myself standing outside one of the top bars in the city just thirty minutes away.

Cloudine is dressed for the club, in tight shorts and a too-loose tank top that shows off the top edge of her flowery bra when she leans over.

I'm still dressed in my cocktail from the celebration. It fits well, but it's not very revealing. Moreover, blue sequins adorn it. I adore how it shines, but Samuel thought it was too much when he first saw me wearing it.

I'm so tired of worrying about what he thinks. Hell, I'm tired of thinking about him at all.

The line outside of the bar is filled with people younger than us. Cloudine and I are 34. The people in this line look barely out of college.

" Are you sure this is our kind of place?" I ask.
With the music pulses from within, I have to shout to be heard over the noise.

Cloudine flashes me a mischievous smile. Seeing it, I know I'm in for a good time tonight, but also a lot of trouble. " Guys our age are always looking for young, fresh meat. Why wouldn't women?

We bypass the line completely. The bouncer waves at Cloudine, and we are let in right away. A couple of the younger females complain, probably having nothing nice to say about us. But the younger boys blow whistles.

I hate to admit it, but it lifts my spirit at once. It makes me feel a bit sexy.

Riding that high, I accept the first drink Cloudine passes my way, and then the second. Three shots down, I'm ready to head out onto the dance floor.

Yet, as I step up onto the glowing elevated floor, my heel catches on the edge and breaks right off. I stumble, suddenly off-balance, and start to fall.

Suddenly, I'm encircled by powerful arms that press me up against a solid chest. I meet the brilliant eyes of a man in his twenties. His brown hair cascades across his lovely forehead. I feel like I should reach out and wipe it off his face.

He watches me with curious interest.

"Careful," he says.
"You wouldn't want to get hurt,"

My heart races.