His HOT wife

Chapter Thirty-Five: The Elevator

Loraine's POV

​The car ride to the headquarters was spent in silence. I was scrolling through my tablet, not out of interest in the company's quarterly projections, but out of necessity.

I despised this side of my life-the cold, sterile numbers, the endless restructuring of conglomerates I never asked to own.

I had made a pact with myself when I married Stranton: I would sacrifice my heart to the altar of this joint venture, letting him bear the suffocating weight of the business world, so that I could maintain my own creative sanity in the world of high fashion.

I can't deny the attraction-the chemistry, the palpable sexual tension trapped inside the car.

Stranton is sitting right next to me, his focus fractured. He keeps loosening his tie, shifting his weight, clearly restless.

It's infuriating how good he smells.

I hate that I'm still this attracted to him. I hate myself.

​But as I stepped into the lobby, I realized that even here, I couldn't escape the lens of public scrutiny.

​As we walked toward the elevators, the lobby hummed with a different frequency.

People stopped their conversations. People leaned over their desks, and others fumbled with their phones, trying to capture a glimpse.

The whispers were audible, loud enough that I could hear it.

​"Is that her? That's Loraine... I heard she was coming in today," one whispered.

"She's even more beautiful in person," another murmured, gushing with a mixture of awe and intimidation.

"I can't believe she's actually here."

​Me being here, walking these halls was a rare event, and it showed.

​Stranton walked a half-step behind me, his posture rigid. He was the one who belonged here; this boardroom, this office, this grind-it was his natural habitat. He was masterful at navigating the shark tank.
He was the only reason I was free to sew, sketch, and create.

But today, even he seemed to fade into the background, eclipsed by the sheer gravity of my presence.

​When a bold junior partner stepped into our path to offer a smarmy compliment, I saw Stranton's jaw tighten. He was used to being the most powerful man in the building, but today, the room was solely interested in his wife.

I felt the weight of their gazes-people who knew my designs, people who had seen the photos from the fashion show, people who knew me only as the unattainable, icy wife of the CEO.

​I didn't know if I hated the attention or if I was secretly thankful for it; I desperately needed the distraction.

I could barely handle Stranton's proximity, the heat of his hand resting at the small of my back as he played the part of the affectionate, loving husband perfectly.

​I was startled when his security detail hung back, letting us step into the elevator alone.

The doors slid shut, sealing us in with nothing but the suffocating weight of our sexual tension.

He didn't waste a second.

He moved into my space, pulling me flush against him.

I gasped as he firmly grabbed my backside and squeezed, and I was just about to protest-to shove him back-when he leaned in to whisper against my ear.

He reminded me of the cameras, of the necessity of maintaining the facade of a happily married power couple.

​Then he kissed me.