My Beloved Cheating Husband

Chapter 4

Sarah POV

I entered the hall, straightened my dress, and placed my much-practiced smile on my lips. The fabric clung too tightly, cut too high, but I didn’t let the discomfort show.

Ryan’s boss and two investors were already seated, their conversation low and businesslike. Standing slightly apart was his secretary, Emily Jones. Young. Talented. Beautiful. Everything I was not.

When she saw me, her face lit up with genuine warmth. She crossed the room and hugged me. “It’s really good to see you, Sarah.”

I froze at first but hugged her back lightly. Emily was different from the rest of Ryan’s circle. She treated me like a friend, even though she worked for my husband. Since I’d never had many friends, I never pushed her away.

She pulled back, her eyes scanning me. Then she chuckled softly. “You look good, Sarah.” Her gaze lingered on my red dress, and then her lips curled into a knowing smile. “It suits you.”

I tried to read her expression. A smile meant approval, didn’t it? So I smiled back and said, “Thank you.”

She nodded and moved to Ryan’s side with the ease of someone who belonged there. I turned to the guests, ushering them politely toward the dining table.

At the head sat Alexander Russell, Ryan’s boss and CEO of Russell Enterprises. Next to him, Ryan. I was about to take the seat beside my husband when Emily slid into it first, her hand brushing against his arm as she laughed at something he said. I didn’t argue. Instead, I sat on his other side — closer to his boss.

The dress rode up as I adjusted myself, and I tugged at the hem again. None of the guests commented, but I felt their glances, fleeting and heavy, each one settling on me long enough to make me shift uncomfortably.

Ryan, on the other hand, seemed pleased. He was in his element, talking smoothly, Emily supporting him with ease. I sat there like wallpaper, silent, smiling when I remembered to.

Ryan leaned forward. “Sir, why don’t you try the mushroom soup? My wife made it specially for you.”

His eyes flicked to me, commanding. I rose immediately, carrying the soup to Alexander Russell.

From the moment he had entered the house, his eyes had been on me. Not on my dress, not on my body, but on my face. Cold grey eyes that seemed to study me as if I were an equation he intended to solve.

Up close, he was striking. Neat black hair, a straight nose bridge, lips pressed into a firm line. His reputation preceded him: ruthless perfectionist, impossible to please. I had once dreamed of working in his company. Now I could barely meet his gaze.

I set the bowl before him. His eyes didn’t move. Didn’t blink. It felt as though he was peeling back layers I didn’t even know I had.

His voice broke the silence, low and husky. “Some more wine.”

I nodded quickly, poured the wine into his glass, and retreated to my seat, tugging again at my skirt.

“Where are we on the deal with Williams?” Alexander asked, his eyes sliding to Ryan.

Ryan straightened instantly, his tone eager. “I haven’t received their answer yet, sir. But rest assured, I’m working on it. The deal will be ours.”

Alexander’s reply was cold, even, merciless. “I don’t need your promises, Mr. Millar. I want results.”

I saw Ryan’s jaw tighten, but he forced a smile. “Yes, sir.”

I shifted uncomfortably, my eyes brushing against Alexander’s again. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. His gaze pinned me in place, calm but heavy, until his hand moved almost lazily. He flicked a finger against his wine glass.

The liquid tipped, spilling over the edge, splashing directly onto my lap.

I shot to my feet, startled. The chill of the wine soaked through the thin red fabric, clinging wetly to my thighs.

I looked at him, wide-eyed. He had done it deliberately. I knew it. But his face was still calm, unreadable.

Emily hurried to me with a tissue. “Oh my god, Sarah—here—” she dabbed at the fabric, but Ryan’s eyes were on me. Angry. As though silently hissing: Can’t you even sit straight without embarrassing me?

Before I could say anything, Alexander’s voice cut across the table. Plain. Even. Unshaken.

“Sorry, Mrs. Millar. Because of me, your dress is ruined.”

I swallowed. My throat was dry. “It’s alright,” I whispered.

His eyes didn’t waver. “You should change.”

Ryan stood immediately, slipping into his polished husband act. “Yes, darling. Go and change.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes as he leaned close and whispered for only me to hear. “Come fast. Don’t waste time.”

I nodded. Emily followed me, her handbag in hand.

But before I reached the door, Alexander’s voice thundered again. Calm, but commanding. “Wear something comfortable.”

I froze, turning back. His face was as blank as stone, but his words lingered in the air like smoke.

I nodded awkwardly, lowering my eyes, and walked away with Emily.

Once we reached my room, I forced a smile. “I’m fine. I’ll change and come.”

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I said quickly. She gave me a searching look before nodding and leaving.

Alone, I opened the wardrobe. My hands shook as I flipped through the dresses. Gowns too long, dresses too stiff. The black pencil dress — the one Ryan hated — hung at the back like a memory. I didn’t dare touch it.

Finally, I pulled out a white floral dress. Mid-thigh length, soft pink flowers scattered across the fabric. A sweet neckline, modest enough to cover me. Feminine, but not vulgar.

I slipped it on. The fabric was light, soft against my skin. When I looked in the mirror, I breathed out a small sigh. At least I wouldn’t have to go back out there in that red dress.

For that, I was strangely grateful to Alexander Russell.

I didn’t know why he had done it. Maybe he had sensed my discomfort. Maybe it was just a game to him.

But for tonight, it didn’t matter.

For tonight, I was thankful.