LOVE HIS ENEMY: My Husband's Downfall

Chapter 5

Elizabeth

The office has made me feel alive again. The buzzing of hushed voices and the busy bodies takes me back to my passion.

As I walk past the rows of desks, I can feel eyes on me and hear the whispers that follow me wherever I go. The name *Celeste* is on everyone’s lips—Christopher’s new fling.

I should feel hurt or betrayed, but all I feel is relief.

It’s been a month since Christopher last laid a hand on me. A month since I had to force a smile and pretend to care. If Celeste keeps him distracted, that’s fine by me. Maybe she’ll keep him away long enough for me to make my escape.

I keep my head high, my heels clicking sharply against the floor, and step into Sebastian’s office.

The air shifts as soon as I enter, the tension between us like an unspoken third presence in the room. He’s standing behind his desk, flipping through a folder, his dark eyes scanning the pages with a focus that makes my stomach tighten.

He doesn’t look up right away, but when he does, it’s like the entire room tilts.

“Are you ready for the interview today?” I ask, my voice steady, trying to keep things professional.

He’s doing a magazine spread—a big deal to announce his new venture. A tech mogul crossing into the oil industry. It’s my project, and I’ve spent weeks planning every detail.

“Are you?” he counters, stepping out from behind his imposing desk and leaning casually against the front of it. He folds his arms, his gaze never leaving mine.

I frown, thrown off by his response.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirks slightly, a flicker of something dangerous in his expression.

“There are whispers everywhere in this office. Apparently, your husband is quite taken by my legal counsel.”

My chest tightens, but I refuse to let it show.

“Oh, that,” I say, brushing it off with a small shrug. “I think I’m okay, Sebastian. Thank you for your concern.” My voice is cool and detached, but I avoid meeting his gaze for too long.

“Ah,” he says, standing and taking slow steps toward me, “it’s that kind of marriage.”

His words make my cheeks flush.

“What kind of marriage?” I ask, my voice lower now, dry.

He doesn’t answer right away, but the way his dark eyes linger on me feels like they’re peeling away every layer, stripping me bare. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, his breath grazing my ear. “Open.”

Goosebumps rise along my arms, and I feel a slight tremble in my legs.

I take a step back, shaking my head.

“No,” I manage to say, my voice firmer now. “It’s not like that.”

My back hits the edge of the doorframe, and I hate how vulnerable I feel under his gaze.

What is he doing?

What does he want from me?

Sebastian steps back, giving me space.

“Do you want me to fire her?” He asks, his tone flat, as though it’s a genuine question and not a loaded weapon.

My mind drifts for a moment, replaying the way he looked at me just now—the way he made me feel something I haven’t felt in years.

His presence is overwhelming, consuming.

“Elizabeth,” he says sharply, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I blink and shake my head, trying to focus.

“What?” I ask, feeling the heat rush to my face.

“Do you want me to fire Celeste?” He repeats, his expression unreadable.

“No,” I say quickly, my voice faltering. “Don’t do that. If Christopher is busy with her, he’s not paying attention to me. It's easier for me.”

The words come out before I can stop them, and I immediately regret it. How pathetic do I sound, happy that my husband’s attention is elsewhere?

Sebastian’s gaze softens, but not with pity. There’s something else there—something deeper, harder to place.

“I can’t imagine living like that,” he says quietly, his words cutting through me.

I straighten my shoulders, desperate to shift the subject.

“So,” I say briskly, “are you ready for the interview?”

“Yes,” he says, but there’s a change in his tone now. “But there are a few changes.”

I frown. “What changes?”

“The interview won’t be here,” he says smoothly. “It’s happening tonight at an event I’m attending.”

I feel my pulse spike.

“Tonight?” I ask, incredulous. “Why wasn’t I informed? This is my project, Sebastian. I’ve been coordinating this for weeks.”

His expression shifts, his jaw tightening, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes.

“It’s my interview,” he says evenly, “and my money being invested. And, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m your boss, Mrs. Bell.”

The way he says my name—Mrs. Bell—is like a slap, sharp and pointed. It carries a weight I can’t ignore, and it cuts deeper than I expect.

“I apologise, sir,” I say stiffly, forcing the words out. “You’re right. Excuse me.”

I turn on my heel and walk out, my heels clicking harder against the polished floor. My chest feels tight, my emotions swirling in ways I can’t control.

Why does his tone affect me so much? Why does it matter what he thinks or what he calls me?

I reach my office and shut the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment.

My mind replays our conversation, his words echoing in my head.

Open. The way his breath had skimmed my skin, the way he looked at me like he could see everything I was trying to hide.

I hate how my body reacts to him, how he stirs something in me I thought was long gone.

I feel his presence lingering, his voice in my ear. And worst of all, I hate the tiny part of me that wishes he’d done more than just whisper.

“You’re a married woman, Lizzy,” I whisper to myself, shaking my head. But the words feel hollow.

My marriage is a sham, a prison I’m planning to escape. The thought of Edward and me far away from Christopher is the only thing keeping me sane.

My phone vibrates on my desk, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s a message from Sebastian.

It’s your project, after all, so be there. Dress code: black tie. Don’t be late.

I stare at the screen, rereading the words, feeling a fresh wave of frustration.

He’s demanding I attend the gala. He didn’t even ask—just assumed I’d be there. I bang the phone down on the desk, glaring at it as though it’s his fault.

Sebastian Valdez.

Such a mystery. One moment he’s cold, distant, and unreadable, and the next, he’s in my space, making my pulse race, making me feel alive in a way I haven’t in years.

I sigh and glance at the clock, already dreading the evening ahead. Whatever game Sebastian is playing, I will be ready. But as I gather my things, a dark part of me wonders if I will be able to resist him.