Page 5 of The Wife Situation

“He’s one of the biggest assholes I’veeverhad the opportunity to meet.”

“You’vemethim?”

“Once. And trust me when I say, it was one time too many. He’s not liked by many. There’s a reason he’s considered the asshole of billionaires.”

“I don’t have to like him. I only need him to be understanding.”

“He won’t be,” she says. It’s nearly a plea.

“The risk is worth the reward,” I tell her. “I have to try.”

Before the elevator doors slide closed, I rush inside, knowing I don’t have a lot of time to execute this ridiculous plan. He was washing his hair. I might have five minutes to spare.

“Lexi!” Carlee rushes forward to stop me, but she can’t move around the cart fast enough.

A minute passes before I reach the top floor. Adrenaline pumps through me, and I count to ten, sliding my hand into my pocket. My thumb glides across the smooth surface of the face of his dumb watch that I stupidly took. I have the worst timing in the world. Had I gone to the bathroom first, I’d have never seen it, and I wouldn’t be in this situation.

The elevator stops, and I grow nervous with every step forward. I’ll put the watch back, go downstairs, change into my street clothes, and leave for the audition. Everything will work out fine. I continue with my pep talk and almost believe it as I wipe my sweaty palms on my apron. When I glance at the doorbell, I consider ringing it. Could this man have an adult conversation with a housemaid who has his property?

I hear Carlee’s voice in my head. My personality doesn’t get along with assholes because I’m not intimidated by anyone. I might have a shake in my words, but I still rise and speak my truth.Always.

The thought of talking to him sounds like a living nightmare, so I’ll take my chances and James Bond his watch back to that table. It’s a quick sneak up the stairs and back down them. Less than one hundred steps.

My heart throbs in my chest. I realize this is the first adventure I’ve had since my heartbreak, and as sad as it is, it makes me smile.

I whisper a prayer up to whoever is listening. “Please let my timing be perfect.Just this once.”

I wait a few seconds as if someone will answer, then press my key card against the scanner and push open the door.

2

EASTON

Birthday Countdown: 46 Days

Igrab a towel and move through the bedroom to the oversized closet. My clothes for the next three days, while I’m staying at the W, are neatly hung, as instructed. I slide on a freshly pressed pair of black slacks and a white button-up, then I adjust a black tie around my neck. Before going downstairs to meet with my bodyguard, Brody, I sit on the edge of the bed to put on my shoes. As I instinctively reach for my watch on the nightstand, my hand stops midair.

“What thefuck?” I whisper, standing, certain where I placed it.

Right there. Right fucking there.

My eyes scan the floor, but I know it couldn’t have fallen becauseI’m not reckless. I take care of the things I cherish.

As I glance around the room, everything is the same, except for a vase on an accent table. I stand in front of it, staring at it, swearing it was a smidgen to the left, but I also know that’simpossible. I’ve been the only person up here since I arrived exactly thirty minutes ago.

I return to the bathroom and reach inside the pockets of the clothes I was previously wearing.Empty, as I predicted. Shitdoesn’tdisappear … itwalksoff. And while I could buy a million other fucking watches,thatone is irreplaceable.

Shaking my head, I decide to go downstairs. When I take the bottom step, I barely have enough time to realize there’s someone in the room, and she’s about to crash into me. I brace myself for the collision, and she stumbles backward, losing her balance. Before she can fall, I grab on to her tightly, pulling her into my chest, and steady us.

That was close.

Her pouty red lips part as I meet her emerald-green eyes. The faint hint of her perfume lingers, and her mere presence causes me to take pause. Everything freezes, maybe even time itself. My mouth opens and closes as I tower over her small frame. I realize I’m still holding her as our warm breaths mix together, so I drop my hands to my sides, step away, and create much-needed space.

“Hi,” she says.

It’s hard for me to place her expression, but there’s a twinkle of something as she visibly eye-fucks me.

“Hello.” My gaze scans down the gray dress with the W logo embroidered in the corner. It falls gently below her knees. The crisp white apron cinches tightly around her small waist.

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