The Fake Mistress (English)

Chapter 4

My lips parted in shock as I froze, catching Joaquin and Michelle together in the kitchen.

Joaquin’s hair was a disheveled mess, and he looked pale, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath as if he’d just run a marathon. Michelle merely stood behind him with a smirk, casually twisting a few strands of hair around her finger.

I couldn't help it—my eyes instinctively swept over her. Nothing seemed out of place, except for her slightly rumpled clothes. My gaze flicked back and forth between them. I tried to suppress the rising suspicion. It’s Michelle, my best friend. Why am I even questioning her?

I shook my head, desperately clearing the thought. There was no way. I could doubt the entire world, but never my best friend. She knew the agonizing pain of a cheating husband firsthand; she would never inflict that on someone else. Especially not me. She wouldn't stab me in the back. I was just being paranoid.

"Is something wrong? Why do you look so pale, Joaquin?" I asked.

He didn't answer, his eyes fixed on me.

"Are you okay?" I pushed, but he remained silent, throwing a strange, lingering look toward Michelle instead.

Finally, he pulled me in close and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. "I'm fine. Now that I’m looking at you, I’m more than fine."

Yet, a cold knot lingered in my stomach. I wasn't convinced. My heart whispered warnings, screaming that something was deeply wrong.

"Are you sure? We’re talking later, okay? You owe me an explanation."

He nodded, flashing me a sweet smile.

The nerve of him to smile. He better have a damn good reason for coming home at dawn, or I was going to crush his balls.

"And you?" I turned to Michelle, who had suddenly gone quiet. "What brings you here so early?"

It was bizarre. She never came over at this hour; she was a notoriously late riser. This was a first. Was the foolish girl in trouble again?

"I was just passing by, bestie," Michelle said smoothly. "I wanted to wake you, but your husband said you were up late waiting for him last night. He had somewhere to be and just got back, so I didn't want to disturb you. I offered to help him cook, but he refused and snatched the spatula from me—and dropped it. Did the noise wake you?"

She pointed to the spatula lying on the floor, not even bothering to pick it up despite it being right beside her feet.

"No, I was already up before I heard it. Wait, where are you coming from anyway? Don't tell me you went out partying? You know you're not supposed to be drinking!" I snapped.

My earlier unease dissolved, replaced by irritation at the thought of her out gallivanting. It would be fine if she weren't pregnant, but there was a baby relying on her now. She needed to get her act together. Whatever she put her body through, the baby felt it too. I might not have children or experience with pregnancy, but I knew the basics.

"Relax, it's way too early for a sermon," she scoffed. "You're acting like an old nag. I was with my baby’s father last night. Didn't I tell you yesterday I was meeting the man of my dreams?" Her eyes sparkled with a strange intensity.

I caught her darting a quick glance at Joaquin. I hated letting my mind wander, but the unspoken tension between them was undeniable. Or was I just so exhausted that I was imagining things?

"Man of your dreams, my ass! Cut it out, Michelle, before I smack you, pregnant or not. Focus on that baby first before chasing after some guy. They're nothing but a headache anyway."

I rolled my eyes in frustration—a mixture of annoyance at her words and that unrelenting gut feeling. She just laughed, a bitter, insulting sound.

Joaquin gently released his hold on me, stepping over to pick up the spatula near Michelle's feet.

"I'll make breakfast. What do you want, Love?" he asked, pulling ingredients from the fridge.

My stomach churned in response; I realized I hadn't eaten a proper meal since yesterday. My mouth practically watered at the sight of the fresh cucumber and lettuce he set on the counter.

"Just a vegetable salad. Plenty of cucumber and lettuce, with Thousand Island dressing," I replied with a faint smile.

He paused, a slight frown creasing his brow as he looked at me. He was probably confused—rice was usually life for me. A morning salad was entirely out of character, but it was what I craved.

"Are you sure?" he double-checked.

I nodded.

"What about you, bestie? Anything you're craving? Tell my dear husband so he can whip it up for you."

"Hmmm... I'm full. I just had hotdogs and eggs," Michelle said, her eyes drifting back to Joaquin with a sly smirk before she let out a small laugh.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Nothing," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

I raised an eyebrow. Was she losing her mind? It was a simple question.

"Why the attitude?"

"I said nothing!" she snapped, grabbing her sling bag off the island counter.

"Hey, what is your problem?" I called out.

Her mood had shifted in an instant. Maybe it's just pregnancy hormones, I thought, trying to give her the benefit of the doubt.

Without another word or even a goodbye, she stormed out. Joaquin and I exchanged glances. He shrugged, and I let out a long sigh.

"What's up with her?"

"Mood swings? Tantrums? They say that's normal when you're pregnant," Joaquin said softly, slicing the cucumbers. I just shook my head.

I showered right after we ate. Joaquin insisted on cleaning up and doing the dishes so I wouldn't be late for work. I still had plenty of time, though—my shift didn't start until eight, and the commute was only thirty minutes.

When I stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, Joaquin was walking into the bedroom. I felt his eyes trail over me as I sat at the vanity mirror to apply lotion. I waited for him to offer an explanation for his late night, but he remained silent, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed and watching me. He let out several deep sighs, his hands tightly clasped together.

"So? Are you just going to stare at me? Aren't you going to explain why you stayed out till dawn? You didn't even answer my calls or texts. Do you know how foolish I felt sitting here waiting for you all night?" My voice spilled over with frustration.

Instead of answering immediately, he collapsed backward onto the mattress with a heavy, lazy sigh.

"Don't worry, Love. I just went over to the Chief's place after leaving the precinct. It was his youngest child's birthday, and I forgot to tell you. We got carried away drinking, and before I knew it, I had too much. He made me crash there because I was in no condition to drive. I'm sorry, Love," he coaxed gently.

He stood up, crossed the room, and wrapped his arms around me from behind. Soft, lingering kisses rained down on my nape and shoulder, trailing up to the shell of my ear. His tongue stroked my skin before his teeth lightly grazed my flesh.

"A-Another birthday? There's always a birthday," I stammered, my pulse spiking. I tried to suppress the moan rising in my throat as his lips traced my skin, but the sensation overwhelmed me.

"Yes, Love. Where else would I go?" he whispered against my neck.

"Y-You aren't seeing another woman?" I choked out, feeling him freeze for a split second against my neck.

"There is no other woman. I would never replace you. It's only you, Love," he swore, turning me around to capture my mouth in a deep kiss.

The weight in my chest finally lifted, and I kissed him back, completely surrendering to his words.

His hands began to wander, unknotting the towel wrapped tightly around me. He pulled it away, exposing my chest to his gaze. I gasped as his mouth claimed me, his tongue and lips igniting a wild fire that completely shattered my lingering doubts. The sensation was intoxicating.

I arched my back into his touch, my fingers tangling in his hair to anchor myself. Satisfied, his lips traveled lower, burning a path down my stomach until he parted my thighs. He caressed me tenderly before burying his face between my legs. My eyes rolled back at the sheer intensity of it, my hips rising instinctively to meet the heat of his tongue.

"Ohhh..." I moaned, gripping his hair tightly as the waves of pleasure threatened to pull me under. I felt weightless, as if my legs would yield beneath me. Within moments, the coil of tension tight in my abdomen snapped, sweeping me over the edge. I gasped for air, completely breathless and trembling in the aftermath.

"You're so sweet, Love," he murmured softly, gathering me into his arms to carry me into the bathroom to wash up.

*

I checked my wristwatch. Joaquin was supposed to pick me up so we could grab dinner together—his way of making up for our canceled date yesterday.

It was five o'clock on the dot. I shut down my laptop and gathered the loose papers on my desk.

"Hey, Kathryn, not heading home yet?" my coworker Riva asked, already packed up.

"I am! My sharp-shooting cop is picking me up for a date," I replied with a smile.

"Wow! Must be nice!" she teased, making me laugh before she said her goodbyes.

Once my desk was cleared, I headed out toward the elevators to wait for Joaquin. I bumped into Alexander along the hallway. He was actually smiling—a rare sight for a guy whose default expression was a moody scowl. Yet despite the perpetual frown, there was no denying he was ridiculously handsome.

"You're in a good mood today, Alexander. Win the lottery? Share the wealth!" I teased.

His smile widened, revealing deep dimples on both cheeks. "My girlfriend accepted my proposal. So yeah, I'm pretty happy."

"Wow, congratulations! So that's what it takes to get a smile out of you. You should have proposed sooner so we could've seen that handsome smile months ago."

He chuckled, his entire countenance warm and bright. Love really worked wonders. I reached out and gave his arm a light, friendly pat just as the elevator doors chimed open.

"I better get an invitation to the wedding!" I said, patting his arm again.

He reached over, gently patting my hand in return right as the doors slid fully open.

We were both still laughing, but as I stepped forward to exit, I froze. Joaquin stood right outside, his face dark and brooding. He was glaring daggers at Alexander. Before I could even ask what was wrong, he grabbed my wrist, yanked me out of the elevator, and practically dragged me down the hall.