EX-HUSBAND'S BOSS FOR VALENTINE

MESSY EVENING

Melania:

To be honest, at the moment, I have no clue what I am doing. I only know I am married to the hot stranger on the plane who has vowed to help me get revenge on Brady, and that sounds right. I am at the after-party, and I am a little nervous about meeting his family. Worse, Royal isn’t even here. He sends a driver to drop me off.

The after-party is in full swing, all glitter and gold, with enough champagne flowing to drown an army. I stand near the edge of the room, watching the elite of the elite mingle like I am an outcast, but I am glad no one recognizes me. Well, it doesn’t last for long until I see those familiar, venom-dripping eyes as Portia walks towards me with a smile on her lips. I adjust the strap of my designer dress.

“Well, well. Look who crawled out of the gutter and into this party,” she sneers, and I plaster on my best fake smile because I know in a matter of minutes, she will receive the biggest slap in her face.

“Portia. Still lurking in other people’s business, I see,” I reply flatly. Her eyes narrow, flicking over my dress. “That’s a nice outfit. Must’ve cost a fortune. Tell me, Melania, how’d you afford it? Less than twenty-four hours and you’re already out here hoeing around again?”

I chuckle. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.” Portia laughs, rolling her eyes.

“Jealous? Please. I’m just wondering which poor sucker you’ve latched onto now.”

I am about to reply when whispers ripple across the room, and I follow the buzz to see Royal. He strides over like he owns the entire damn room—because, let’s be real, he kind of does. He looks effortlessly perfect in his tailored suit, his eyes scanning the crowd until they land on me. My lips involuntarily curve into a smile, which vanishes when I see who is behind him—it’s Brady.

For a moment, I try to convince myself he is just a random guest since he lives to latch onto rich people, but Royal pauses, whispering something to Brady, making my throat run dry.

Brady walks away, and in that moment, I hear Portia say, “Oh my God, he is coming over here.” She straightens up at once, smoothing her dress, pushing her chest out like that’s going to impress Royal, who walks towards us.

“Royal,” she calls out his first name, stretching out her hand, which he takes briefly.

“Mrs. Sinclair,” he puts her in her place with her last name, and she grins at him.

“Ms. Ashford, actually. I am recently divorced.” He nods, then he faces me.

“I see you’ve met my wife.” His hands wrap around my waist, and Portia’s mouth falls ajar, causing me to cover my lips as a chuckle escapes.

The expression on her face is priceless, and I lean in to kiss Royal’s cheek. I am still relishing the moment when Brady’s voice trails off behind me.

“Boss, I…” He stops halfway as I turn to face him.

Wait. Boss? The word echoes in my head, but the look on Brady’s face is what grabs me. It’s like he’s been sucker-punched right in the gut. I bite back a grin. It is better than I could’ve planned. His eyes flick from me to Royal and back again.

“Brady,” Royal continues, completely oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “This is my wife, Melania.”

For a heartbeat, nobody moves or breathes. Then Brady forces a smile so tight it looks painful.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he grins so hard it feels like his cheeks will tear through his ears.

“The pleasure’s all mine,” I reply, running my hands along Royal’s chest.

Royal stands there, unaware of the storm brewing in front of him. It’s almost funny—how calm he is, while Brady looks like he’s about to pass out and Portia’s practically choking on her own shock.

“While everyone is getting acquainted, please excuse me, love,” he says, giving my waist a gentle squeeze. He releases me and strides toward the stage, leaving Brady and Portia standing there like statues.

“What the f**k?” Brady asks, and he is about to crash down when Royal taps the mic, grabbing everyone’s attention and causing the room to quiet down.

“I just want to take a moment to wish my beautiful wife a Happy Valentine’s Day,” he announces, his eyes locking on mine from across the room. A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. “And as a small token of my love…” He gestures, and a sleek, black sports car is revealed just outside the glass doors. “…I hope you enjoy your new ride.” Applause erupts, but all I can hear is the sound of Brady’s and Portia’s lives crumbling beside me.

Royal steps down from the stage and makes his way back to me. Before I can process what he has done, he claims my lips in front of everyone in a possessive manner, like he is staking a claim. And maybe… I like it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Brady’s and Portia’s faces—both pale and horrified, which is perfect until the hall goes silent again, and I see everyone staring at a lady dressed in the finest dinner dress, standing at the landing of the stairs.

As she begins to descend the last flight of stairs, Royal grabs my hand, making our way towards her. She keeps a straight face with her eyes on me, and it is almost as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting for her to pass judgment, but as soon as she gets to the last flight of stairs, her face loosens, and she faces me, ignoring Royal.

Then she pulls me into a warm hug, whispering, “You’re even lovelier in person, dear. I can see why he chose you.”

Chose me. The words echo in my head, and I try to push them away. He is giving me what I want, and I cannot mess up now. Before I know it, we are taking family photos, and the paparazzi are ever ready with the flash of their blinding cameras, but I keep smiling, pretending like I know what I am getting myself into. Finally, we are done, and I manage to slip away. Then my phone buzzes in my clutch and I pull it out to see a message from Brady. I open it.

Brady: You’ve gone too far.

I smirk, typing back quickly.

Funny, I don’t think I’ve gone far enough.

Another text comes through.

Brady: Do you even know who you married? That is my boss.

His words fuel the feeling of victory rising in my chest, and just as I am about to reply to him, my sister’s text comes in.

Ophelia: WTF ARE YOU DOING?

My heart skips a beat as I stare at the screen, my pulse drumming in my ears as I wonder what I have done wrong this time. I am about to dial her when my dad’s call comes in, causing my soul to leave my body. My hands tremble as I slide the green button, picking up his call. I brace myself for his usual cold and condescending tone, but he calls out my name in a small voice.

“Congratulations, Melania,” he says, and I conclude I am getting disowned.

“Wh… what are you talking about, Dad?”

“You fooled the Montclairs, Mel. Now it’s time to do your actual job.” The Montclairs? What is he talking about? I question myself as I look around the room, and everything starts to make sense—why they command such respect. I had been so caught up in the drama that I didn’t realize I was in enemy territory.

“Volunteering to be a spy to surprise me. You really outdid yourself, darling.” My dad’s voice draws me back to reality.

“You know me. I love making you proud,” I say in a small voice, then I end the call, rushing out of the room into the dark night as I try to catch my breath.

I thought I was playing a game, but maybe… I’m the one being played.