The Boss's Wife

The Boss’s Wife

The White Party.

Anyone who is anyone is here, and that means her.

Suddenly, I spot her—a slinky white dress cut just above the mid-thigh and short dark hair that curls at the ends. Deep green eyes scan the room repeatedly, clearly searching for someone.

Me.

I step forward, greeting some business acquaintances with a broad smile. I can feel her eyes on me, but I refuse to make eye contact.

It’s inappropriate.

“Benjamin,” booms a voice, clapping me firmly on the back. “Good to see you. How’s the family?”

I make small talk as I’m introduced to countless men and women, including her.

I’m polite, but she just gazes at me hungrily. She sips her champagne, peering up at me through her dark lashes.

“Benjamin. Can I call you Ben?”

Her voice is silky soft, and her fingers toy with the necklace around her slender throat.

“Of course.”

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” she continues, momentarily dropping her fingers from her necklace and brushing against her nipples before looking up at me innocently.

“Business, but there’s always time for pleasure.” I smile, my eyes journeying down her body.

“At least some men think so,” she says with a laugh, but her eyes tell a different story.

“Not all men think the same,” I reassure her, my fingers lightly touching her elbow. She shivers and sucks her lip into her teeth as she leans towards me, her lips close to my ear.

“I’d love to know what you’re thinking right now, Ben.”

Is she serious right now?!

“Considering who you are, I won’t be telling you anytime soon.”

I turn to walk away, but she calls out my name.

“Ben? If you don’t, I’ll have to rely on my vivid imagination.”

Her lips part slightly, and I’m rock hard.

Walk away, man.

“Rely on that, then. Have fun, sweetheart.”

I manage to escape into the crowd, grabbing a glass of cheap fizz from the waiter as I do. The evening is drab, and the conversation even worse.

“No underwear.”

The voice in my ear jolts me to attention. I watch as she walks past me, nodding for me to follow her.

Fuck.

I try to style it to the best of my ability and even stumble around like I’m heading for the restroom. The hallway is bigger than my apartment, and I pay a fuckload for that. I glance up and down the hallway, but she is nowhere to be seen.

Which is probably for the best.

“Benjamin,” a voice whispers, and to my surprise, one of the mirrors on the wall opens up, revealing my snow-white angel.

I know going in there means social suicide, but my dick is overriding all rationality.

The door slams behind us, and she yelps when I kiss her hard on the mouth.

“I’m done with your teasing,” I say hoarsely as she bites her lip.