Revenge on My Husband

CHAPTER FOUR

As the images of that unforgettable night continued to replay in my mind, I found myself lost in a daydream, absentmindedly biting my lips. When I finally woke up, I hastily dressed and slipped away while he peacefully slept. The passionate encounters we shared seemed countless, but the exhaustion I felt made me realize it had been quite a few.

Leaving the hotel, I headed to the parking lot where I had left my car near the bar. Once I located my car, I got inside, feeling a reluctance to return home. Instead, I drove straight to my childhood friend Hannah's place in New York. Hannah and I had been friends for years, and she knew me better than anyone else.

Upon arriving at Hannah's apartment, I rang the doorbell and she quickly opened the door, surprised to see me so early in the morning. "Oh, Cynthia, what brings you here?" she asked, her curiosity evident.

"Is it wrong for me to visit my friend?" I replied, entering her apartment.

She closed the door behind me and continued, "I'm just surprised because you didn't call, and I wasn't expecting you. I hope everything is alright."

"Of course, everything is alright," I lied, masking the pain and turmoil I was experiencing. How could everything be okay when my husband Daniel had betrayed me with his so-called assistant, and I had succumbed to temptation with the CEO of King's Hotel? I couldn't burden Hannah with these revelations; it would only break her heart. She knew the story of Daniel and me, and hearing about what had transpired in less than 24 hours would be too much for her to bear.

"Can I get you some coffee?" Hannah offered, trying to ease the tension.

"Yes, please," I responded, grateful for the distraction. Hannah disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the coffee, while I took a seat on the couch. Glancing around, I noticed her laptop open on the table, alongside some papers. It was clear she had pulled an all-nighter working.

Hannah returned with a steaming cup of coffee and handed it to me. "Thank you," I said, sipping the warm liquid.

"It looks like you've been busy," I remarked, gesturing toward her laptop and the scattered papers.

"Yeah, I have. I had to finish this project before heading to work," she explained, her voice laced with exhaustion.

"I hope I didn't disturb you?" I asked, concern evident in my tone.

"No, you didn't. I'm almost done anyway. Besides, you're always welcome here," she assured me.

"How is Daniel? I hope everything is okay between the two of you," she inquired, unaware of the turmoil that plagued my marriage.

"Yeah, everything is okay," I replied, attempting to hide my pain. Would she even believe me if I told her what had happened?

"I'd love to have a meaningful discussion with you, but right now, I have to get ready for work. I just need to freshen up," Hannah said, sensing the need to change the subject.

"I could freshen up here as well," I suggested, hoping to buy some time.

Hannah looked surprised by my request. "Here?" she questioned.

"What happened to your place? It's not far from where I live, just an hour's drive," she added. "Cynthia, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything is alright," I said, conjuring up a lie in my mind. "You see, one of my staff fell sick and was admitted to the hospital, so I had to go see her. I ended up spending the night there while I watched over her. Also, I have to get to work on time because an important client is coming to see me," I continued, fabricating a story to avoid seeing Daniel's face.

"Okay, if you say so. But I hope you're not hiding anything from me," Hannah expressed her concern.

"Of course not," I assured her, attempting to maintain a facade of normalcy.

"All right then. Use the bathroom downstairs. I'll also prepare some fresh clothes for you," Hannah offered, showing her usual kindness.

"Thank you, Hannah. You're a lifesaver," I expressed my gratitude.

"Anytime, sweetheart," she replied warmly.

I made my way to the downstairs bathroom and stepped under the soothing flow of the warm shower. As the water cascaded over me, memories of the passionate night with Alexandra flooded my mind, refusing to fade away. I couldn't shake off the intense sensations, remembering his fervent kisses that left my lips swollen and red. I was grateful that Hannah didn't notice my altered appearance. And his scent... I could still catch a whiff of it, lingering in my senses.

Why was I fixating on a man I barely knew, who had become nothing more than a one-night stand? I scolded myself for allowing these thoughts to consume me. After finishing my shower, I entered the guest room across from the bathroom, where I discovered a neatly ironed dress waiting for me on the bed. It seemed Hannah had placed it there before heading to freshen up herself. I dressed quickly, admiring how well the dress fit me in the mirror.

Returning to the living room, I waited for Hannah to come downstairs. A few minutes later, she descended, looking impeccable in her perfectly pleated black skirt, white shirt, and black stilettos. "You look beautiful in your outfit," I complimented her.

"Thank you," she responded graciously.

"Shall we get going before I miss the bus?" Hannah suggested, reminding me of our plans for the day.

"I can drop you off at the office," I offered.

"No need to stress yourself; after all, you have an important meeting with a client," she reasoned, considering my schedule.

Suddenly, a thought struck me. What if I ran into Alexandra when dropping off Hannah? The mere idea of facing him again filled me with awkwardness and discomfort.

Driving Hannah to the bus stop, I bid her farewell and proceeded to the office. However, my mind remained clouded, making it impossible to focus on work. I found myself unable to complete any tasks, lost in the turmoil of Daniel's betrayal and the night of passion with Alexandra. My staff tried to get my attention, calling me "Mrs. Hamilton," but I was too deep in thought to respond promptly.

Finally, I snapped back to reality when my assistant informed me it was lunch break. "Mrs. Hamilton, may I get you anything?" she inquired.

"No, thank you, dear. Just go and enjoy your lunch break," I replied absentmindedly.

As the clock struck 5 p.m., I began packing my belongings, preparing to go home. Although the idea of returning to confront Daniel was unappealing, I knew it was necessary.

Just as I was about to leave the office, my phone rang, displaying an unknown number. Reluctantly, I answered the call. "Hello?" I said, my voice laced with apprehension.

"Cynthia," a familiar voice spoke, causing me to freeze in my tracks.

"Please, who am I speaking with?" I inquired, my throat suddenly feeling dry.

"Have you forgotten my voice so quickly? It's Alexandra King," he declared, the sound of his voice sending shivers down my spine. "Now you remember."

How could I forget him? "How did you get my number ?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I struggled to regain composure.

"You left your business card in the room. It seemed like you wanted me to know your name and where you live so I could come see you," he replied, his tone filled with a hint of amusement.

I inwardly cursed myself for my careless oversight. "I left it by mistake. What do you want from me?" I questioned, trying to sound firm despite the swirl of emotions inside me.

"Would you like to have dinner with me, Cynthia?" he proposed, his voice carrying a mixture of confidence and intrigue.

My initial reaction was to decline immediately. After all, I was determined to return to my husband and address the issues we were facing. But there was a part of me that felt drawn to Alexandra, enticed by the passion we had shared, even if it was just for one night.

"Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?" I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief.

"Yes, you did," he responded, his tone unwavering.

"I have no intention of meeting you again," I declared, trying to assert my decision. "Meanwhile, I am going back to my husband since I am done with you."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, making me wonder if my words had affected him in any way. But deep down, I knew that Alexandra King, a man accustomed to adoration and fleeting connections, wouldn't be easily swayed by my rejection.

"Come out," he commanded, his voice carrying a domineering authority.

Curiosity mingled with apprehension as I stepped outside the office building. And there he was, standing before me, leaning casually against his sleek black Lamborghini. My breath hitched, and for a moment, I couldn't tear my gaze away from him.

He looked undeniably handsome, exuding the charm and confidence of a CEO from one of those captivating w*****d stories. Clad in a black leather jacket over a black top and matching trousers, he seemed to have embraced the allure of a mysterious character. It was as if he belonged to the world of Italian mafia bosses, wearing black from head to toe.

Realizing I had stopped walking, I quickly composed myself and continued toward him. As I reached his side, he stood tall, his presence dominating the space between us. I couldn't help but feel small in comparison.

"Going back to who?" he questioned, his tone filled with intensity as his piercing gaze locked onto mine.

A mix of emotions flooded through me—uncertainty, attraction, and a hint of defiance.