Overnight Wife(25)

What? There’s no decision to be made here, not really. We made a mistake, and we need to fix it.

But part of me isn’t so sure anymore. Part of me can’t stop thinking about how good it feels when we’re together. When John has his hands all over me, his mouth on my body, his cock inside me. My cheeks flush with heat, as the lady on the other end of the phone continues to explain the process. I’m only half listening.

The rest of me is wondering if I’m starting to lose my mind, or if this really is starting to sound like a possibility.

By the time I hang up the phone, I have to lean against the wall and take some deep breaths before I can go back into the workshop and pretending everything is normal.

My phone buzzes again, startling me so badly I almost drop it. But when I check the screen, I see it’s just Lea. Lunch?

I text her back right away. Yes please. What I really need now is to talk this over with a neutral party. A friend who was there and knows exactly how this situation got so wild in the first place. She’ll talk sense into me. She’ll explain that it’s been fun to enjoy my time with John, but that I can’t go and stay married, let alone to my boss, and potentially blow up my first job in the industry.

I need to get my priorities back in order, and my best friend is just the person to help me do that. Even if she can be a bad influence on nights out, when push comes to shove, Lea’s always practical where it really counts.

With a fresh distraction in my immediate future, I push my way back into the studio, intent on grabbing my things and heading straight to lunch. I don’t make it farther than my desk, though, before a familiar face appears beside it, wearing a bright, curious smile.

“Mara! Hadn’t seen you this morning. I was wondering if you were in yet.” Bianca grins and offers me a coffee.

Bianca has been great this week too. Almost as friendly and easygoing as Daniel. Not to mention, her habit of providing caffeine for all the staff, no matter the hour of the day, has certainly saved my sanity more than once when my energy is flagging.

“Thank you.” I accept the coffee, my second of the day, and raise it toward her in a toast. “But yeah, got here early as usual.”

“You were here so late last night too, though, weren’t you?” she asks.

“No rest for the wicked,” I joke, taking a sip of the coffee. Two creamers, just the way I like it. Bianca’s got a good head on her shoulders. She notices a lot more than people give her credit for, I’ve realized. It wouldn’t surprise me if she works her way up the corporate ladder quickly. I’m surprised she went in for a secretarial job at all, considering she seems more the business major and marketing type.

Then again, she is always talking about how much she admires John, and how much she wants to learn from him. She keeps calling him a genius, too. Often enough that I worry his ego might grow out of control if he listens to her for too long.

“What time did you finally get home?” Bianca looks worried, concerned about my sleep schedule—or lack thereof—maybe.

I blush again, remembering what I was distracted by most of the second half of the evening. “Oh, I don’t know, eleven maybe?”

“John stayed late too, didn’t he?” She cocks her head, looking so innocently curious that it just makes my flush even more obvious.

I force my smile to remain steady, and clench my hands a little harder around the hot coffee cup. “I guess so,” I reply, my smile turning forced. “Excuse me for the moment, though, Bianca. I was just about to head out for lunch.”

“Oh!” Her eyes shift to my hand. My left hand, I notice. Then they dart away again. “Are you meeting someone? Your husband?”

“Just a friend,” I answer, and this time I really do manage to extract myself, grabbing my purse from the desk and bringing the coffee with me as I beeline toward the exit.

That was close. Too close. The hairs on the back of my neck are still standing on end, my stomach churning with worry. Does she suspect something? Has she noticed that both John and I have been staying late every night this week?

Moreover, would she tell anyone else, if she did notice?

I force myself to forget about it for now. There’s nothing I can do in the meantime. And who knows, maybe this will all be a moot point soon anyway.

That’s what I need to decide now, after all.

I spend most of the drive to the restaurant going through the two competing scenarios. In one, John and I annul this marriage and continue as coworkers. And I spend every day for the next however long I’m at this company trying to forget about how it felt to be with him. Trying to forget the mind-blowing orgasms, or how hot it is to hear him call me his wife as we fuck. Trying not to think about the searing hot glances he shoots my way when nobody else is looking, glances that promise just how many filthy things he’s doing to me in his head.

Forget undressing me with his eyes. John full on fucks me with his.

And then there’s all our late-night talks over the work bench about our career goals, the plans we have for our futures. We’re surprisingly in sync, on so many things…

Stop it, I tell myself as I pull up to the restaurant. You can’t do this for real.

But my mind won’t stop playing over the other scenario. In that second one, John and I stay married. We tell people, we stop hiding and slinking around in dark corners of restaurants with discrete owners. The whole world finds out that I’m married to one of the richest, most eligible bachelors out there…