HIS FIRST LADY(SANDRO MARCOS)

Chapter 35: A Denial Isn't Good Enough

Chapter 35: A Denial Isn't Good Enough

"Excuse me?" I gasp, too stunned for more words.

"There isn't a chance in hell you legitimately earned that job, my slut of a wife," Samuel spits, each word dripping with vicious vitriol. "With that ten-year gap in your résumé, I'm surprised they even hired you at the country club. All you really know how to do is scrub floors."

That's an insult to homemakers everywhere. We do far more than scrub floors. Although the long gap in my résumé would likely need explaining, what kind of husband jumps to the worst conclusion possible?

But arguing is tricky. I can't tell Samuel that I got the job because Vincent rewarded me for beating his golf score.

I didn't sleep with Hugo, but my way of getting this job wasn't entirely merit-based. Still, I believe Vincent would have found a way to back out if he didn't think I was capable.

And I am capable. I'll prove it to him, Samuel, and anyone else who doubts me.

"You don't have anything to say for yourself?" Samuel pushes.

"I didn't sleep with Vincent," I say.

"A denial isn't good enough," Samuel says. "I want proof."

Proof? What kind of proof could there be? No, absolutely not. This is absurd. An adulterer wants proof from me? "Get bent, Samuel. I don't need to prove anything to you."

"So that's how it is? I drop you, and you start selling yourself for favors? Don't you have any decency, Rafha? Don't you realize what this will do to my reputation when it gets out?"

"Your reputation?" I can't help but laugh, despite my anger.

I shouldn't take the bait, but his accusations are making my blood boil. I'm so tired of his sharp barbs meant to hurt me!

"You're the one taking my sister to events and parading her around as your date! Whatever stain there is on your reputation is purely your own doing!"

Samuel points his finger at me. "Everyone knows you're a slut, Piper. Even the kids can see it—"

"Bullshit! What lies have you been telling them, Samuel?" How dare he involve our innocent children in this!

"They deserve to know the truth about their slut mother. Just how many lovers have you had, Rafha ? Trying to relive the glory days before you were used up and men still wanted you?"

"You think they want you now? They pity you. They see an easy target and take it."

"None of that is true."

"They look at you and see an old cow, just like I do. But they feel sorry for you, so they still give you attention. And it seems..." He gestures toward the job offer letter. "The sex must be so bad that they feel worse and give you a job."

"Fuck you, Samuel ," I say, my insides twisted with anger and hurt. I don't want his words to affect me, but they pierce through my defenses. After all these years, he's learned how to hit me where it hurts.

"Struck a nerve, did I?" Samuel sneers. "Must be your guilty conscience."

His words cut deep, and I can't stay here any longer. Clutching the letter tightly, I storm out into the driveway.

Only when I'm in my car, pulling out onto the street, do I try to calm down.

I'm a mess. Tears well up in my eyes, a mix of pain and frustration. I want to scream, speed, or even crash my car into a tree.

But I do none of those things. Instead, I drive to the local ice cream parlor, which is closed now, past sunset, and park my car.

I can't drive like this. I need to calm down.

Closing my eyes, I force myself to take several deep breaths. I hate that Samuel can affect me this way. He has no right to make me feel lesser. Even if I had a hundred lovers now, I never cheated on him. For years, I committed myself to him and our family, even while he was stepping out.

I'd have nothing to be ashamed of, even if I had a hundred lovers.

But I don't.

I don't even have one, really. Just a single night of passion. A night I wouldn't trade, but just one night all the same.

Maybe that's why Samuel's words hurt so much.

Compared to Sandro, I feel like an old cow. I'm unworthy of having such a talented and successful lover, especially one so young who could have any woman his own age. He could be with models or actresses. He doesn't need an aging housewife.

But he still wants me. Even today, in the bathroom, he offered to be with me. For sex, not a relationship, but even that is a tantalizing offer. If it weren't so dangerous for both of our careers...

I shake my head. I can't let Samuel taint my memories of that night with Miles or the feelings I had again today when he kissed my hand.

A sad song plays on the radio. I turn it down, realizing only now that I'm holding my phone in my hand. Subconsciously, I was about to make a call.

But who do I want to call?

Cloudine is at her house, waiting for me. I just need to calm down enough to drive there.

I could call a cab, since I don't fully trust myself to drive right now.

But my heart knows the truth and won't let me lie to myself.

I was never going to call Cloudine or a cab.

There's only one person I want to talk to right now. Only one voice that could calm me down after Samuel's accusations.

It doesn't make sense. It shouldn't.

But thinking of Sandro's deep, soothing voice sends a wave of calm through me that I can't explain.

Who else would I call? There is no one else.

I just want to talk to Sandro.

I search through my contact list until I find his name and hit call.

As soon as the call begins ringing, I regret all the choices that led to this moment. It's late; Sandro could be doing anything with anyone.

I've also rejected him, told him I didn't want to see him again.

I have no right to call him.

He has every right to ignore me.

Still, after three rings, he picks up. "Rafha?"