EX-HUSBAND'S BOSS FOR VALENTINE

SEVENTY PERCENT

Melania:

Royal doesn’t stop. His hands slide up my thighs, slipping under my dress and resting at the edge of my panties. My heart pounds as the reality of this moment sinks in—I’m about to have s*x with him, consciously. A part of me hesitates, but the other part is too consumed by desire to care.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, sliding his fingers into my panties, finding my wetness. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against my ear as he lifts me from his lap and presses me down onto the couch.

Without hesitation, he pushes my dress up, then hooks his fingers into my panties, pulling them down to reveal my bare p***y. He cups me with one hand while the other reaches for his pants, unfastening them swiftly. As soon as his pants are down, he shifts lower, pressing the thick tip of his c**k against my entrance. His heat has me arching beneath him, my body tight with need. I grip his arms as my breaths come in quick gasps.

But then—

“Mr. Montclair!”

Brady’s voice cuts through the room.

Royal pulls away immediately, yanking up his pants. I sit up quickly, but I’m not fast enough—Brady steps inside, and his eyes land on my discarded panties. His face tightens for a moment.

“Oh,” he mutters. “You… were busy. I guess I’ll just come back later.”

Watching him teeter on the edge of discomfort sends a wave of relief through me. I don’t know why I was embarrassed at first—why I cared if he saw my panties or realized what we were doing. He’s an asshole who deserves every bit of this humiliation. My blood boils just looking at him, and I hate I can’t tell Royal who he is. Maybe someday—but not now. The circumstances between us are too complicated.

Royal exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“No, no. We can talk about whatever it is you came for, Brady,” he says, walking toward him. Then, without hesitation, he claps a hand onto Brady’s shoulder—the same hand that had been buried between my legs just moments ago.

A laugh escapes my lips before I can stop it, drawing both of their eyes to me.

I think Royal catches on because the corner of his mouth twitches slightly before he removes his hand. I stand, grabbing my panties from the floor, and head toward the stairs, because I can’t stand being near Brady as the memories of what he did are suffocating.

“Your flight was abruptly canceled, so I wanted to check why,” Brady says.

Liar.

Maybe the flight was canceled, but that’s not why he’s here. He wants to know if I’ve told Royal anything. I pause, then change my mind and sit back down, curious to see how this plays out.

“Yes, I realized there was no need for such an abrupt flight,” Royal answers smoothly. “I’m newly married, and the right thing to do as a man is to stay with my wife and protect her.”

That warmth stirs in my belly again, but Brady keeps his expression neutral.

“Good choice, sir,” he says with a tight smile.

Royal leans back slightly.

“Every action has consequences, and mine did. I was gone for only an hour, and she ended up tangled with her ex-husband.”

My stomach knots as I refuse to meet Brady’s gaze.

“She won’t give me his name,” Royal continues. “So I want you to look into him and—”

“That won’t be necessary,” I interject.

Royal turns to me, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not asking, Melania.”

His brows furrow, and I glance at Brady.

“Surely, there’s a good reason she doesn’t want you looking into him,” Brady says, desperate to cover his own ass. I hate that I have to side with him, because I want nothing more than to see him suffer.

Royal’s voice comes out harsh.

“Then tell me the reason you don’t want that bastard brought to justice!”

This startles me, and I keep mute for a second. A moment ago, he was about to bury himself inside me, and now he’s worked up over this?

I exhale forcefully, stepping toward him and gently taking his hand.

“Because it will cause problems for you.”

His brows relax slightly as I caress his hand. I glance at Brady again before turning back to him.

“My ex-husband is an ass-kissing, opportunistic fool who leeches off rich people,” I say, and it feels good to say it to Brady’s face without consequences. “This is a crucial moment for you. The position you’re about to assume is too important. Please, don’t get involved, because you might do something that jeopardizes your future, and trust me—he isn’t worth it.”

I pause, then place my hand on Royal’s face.

“His life is already miserable, and once we are legally divorced it will be worse.” I say this because I plan to take a good percentage of whatever Brady owns.

Royal holds my gaze before he nods. I let my fingers trail down his face.

“Okay,” he concedes. “But I can’t let him go scot-free. There must be something I can do to crush him.”

A slow smile spreads across my lips as I turn to face Brady squarely.

“I have an idea.”

Brady pales slightly, his fingers twitching. I like what it is doing to him, and it would have been easier for him if he hadn’t pushed this far. Earlier, I said wouldn’t take anything from him, but seeing him suffer might just be what I need.

“Mr. Brady here can help,” I say smoothly, “because I don’t want you stressing over this.”

Royal nods.

Brady swallows. “Of course. What would you like, ma’am?”

His forced formality amuses me. Seeing him beneath me is what I live for.

“You can help me arrange the best divorce attorney,” I say, savoring the way his face tightens, “so I can win my fair share—70% of his net worth—as compensation for all the years of abuse.”