Chapter 75

Chapter 75
“I’m going to make your life a living hell, Zander. I have sacrificed a lot for Patrick.” Kristal wiggled her finger in my face. He took her finger and lowered it, wrapping her dress back around her waist for her.

“By fucking his father?” Zander smirked.

She sneered at him. “It was all a mistake. I didn't—”

“Tell that to Patrick, not to me, Kristal.”

“Fuck you!”

“I dare you, sweetheart. It’s been too long since I showed you who I really am. I cannot wait for you to get reacquainted with the asshole version everyone else has been privy to for the past year, partly because of you.” He couldn’t dump all the blame on Kristal, though. Matheo had taken the Worst Dad of the Century trophy, leaving others to eat dust.

“You’re insane!” she yelled in his face.

“That’s rich, coming from a half-naked woman who just broke a monitor and fucked her lover’s father.”

“You’re weird. And a smartass. I don’t even like you anymore.” She walked over to the door, made a U-turn, stared at him helplessly, and shook her head. “Tell me how to make it right, and I will.” Her voice cracked around her plea.

“Get out.”

The door slammed in Zander’s face, and his eyes immediately travelled to the newsroom through the glass walls. Elvie was staring at him, like she wanted his eyes to bleed out the truth of what had happened in his office. But he couldn’t invite her in. Not so soon after kicking Kristal out. That would be transparent and downright risky. But she was his wife; what was wrong with it? Would he rather mind the gossip about their marriage and their arrangement or explain something to Elvie? She had all the right to know, right? He asked himself and groaned annoyingly as he paced in his office.

He dialled Bella’s extension and asked her to summon Elvie for a ne-on-one  rundown meeting in three hours. He asked her to do the same for the rest of the High Fashion team. He had nothing to say to the last of them. He just didn’t want it to look suspicious.

He fell into his seat and closed his eyes. A text message dinged on his phone, and he flipped it over to see who it was.

Danny: Matheo is at a meeting right now, selling ad space to a Vegas-based marketing company that specialises in condoms, tobacco, gambling equipment, and sex toys. I’m sitting in the same restaurant. They’re talking seven figures.

This deal would be suicide for the SBC brand, and the old cow knew it. This was a prime example of how far he’d go to sabotage things for himself.

Record everything, he ordered.

It was time to take this matter to the board and bury what was left of his relationship with the man who hated him just a little less than he hated him.



Three meaningless conversations later (Almera was happy to know he’d called the contract off with Kristal; Gerald and he talked baseball and tried to give him some brotherly advice about women and relationships, only to be sent out with his tail between his legs), Elvie entered his office with a raised brow and a blank face.

The minute she walked in, the urge to push her against the door, spread her legs, and fuck her relentlessly burned through Zander’s veins, but he settled for an easy smirk.

“Elvie.”

“Sir.”

She was seated behind his desk—something his erection was very grateful for—and he motioned for her to take a seat across from him. She did so obediently, her back straight. She handed her the notebook he’d managed to retrieve from Kristal. It was wrinkled as fuck. Elvie took it into her shaky hands.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“I’ll buy you another one.”

“I don’t want another one. I like this one.”

Fuck. Why did that make it even harder?

She shook her head, sighing. “You wanted to see me?”

“There are a few matters we need to discuss as a result of the unexpected appearance of Kristal in the newsroom," he said, loosening his tie.

Elvie smiled her sweet, innocent smile. “That’s a lovely way of describing a batshit crazy woman who broke a monitor and ruined my notebook, if I ever heard one.”

Zander smirked. Sat back. He knotted his fingers together. “I sent Bella to the third floor to get one of Gerald's stylists to iron Kipling back into shape.”

Her eyes widened, her lower lip poking out. “How did you...?" She swallowed a lump. “Figured it out.” she waved her off.

Not quite. The mystery had occupied his mind for many long nights. So much so that he’d pieced together every encounter in which she’d mentioned Kipling. She’d had the notebook clutched in her palm in all of them.

Elvie looked touched, and he needed her not to be, so he continued. “At any rate, Kriral will be in no position to further damage property or harass SBC employees anymore, especially seeing as I terminated her contract to work in the High Fashion again.”

Which was really a nice way of saying they could go back to fucking peacefully without Elvie giving him the third degree, just not in so many words.

“Is that why I’m here?” she asked, jutting her chin out. “Because you think I’ll jump back into your bed?”

“And the couch. And the office door. And fucking public toilet, if I say so.” Zander shrugged, sitting back and smirking at her.

“You’re wrong, Zander. When I told you I don’t do love, I meant it. But I don’t do it casually, either. I need it to mean something. I was with you because I’m capable of having a relationship. I’m capable of giving. But I am not. Our marriage was a mistake, and we both know that.”

Fuck it! He thought. I really didn’t want to hear about it. At the same time, my growing need to fuck Elvie might very well make my balls explode. I decided I would compromise my truth—if not bend it just a little—to accommodate her needs.

“Why would I want a discreet arrangement? We are married,” he said.

“I don’t want an arrangement. I want a relationship for real, Zander, and knowing that you can't give it. This needs to end.”

Can't give? How so? He pondered. 

“Whatever you want to call it. As long as you realise that at the end of that tunnel—we are married, with a kid, and with cosy evenings watching Netflix with your brother—you can have it. Now pack a bag. We’re going to Miami for the weekend.” He thought about all he’d said and decided to amend one thing. “Actually maybe Netflix is okay sometimes. Your pussy will need an occasional rest.”

“Miami?” Her eyes widened like he’d suggested Afghanistan. She recovered quickly, clearing her throat and adding, “We haven’t finished working on the Thailand piece.”

Right. Fuck. Of course, they still needed to wrap it up.

“We’ll work into the night.”

“I promised Joey I would watch a football game with him.” She reddened.

Zander hated that he liked that about her—her fierce loyalty to her family. No matter how late she stayed at work, she somehow always made time for her child and brother, even though she knew about Joey’s involvement in Zander’s parents  deaths.Or maybe Zander was wrong. What if Joey wasn't involved at all; he was just being used by someone who hated his parents more than ever? What if the real mastermind took advantage of Joey’s addiction?

So many what-ifs.

Had he gone soft?

But maybe Elvie wasn’t anything special. Maybe he just had no idea how a normal family works and was giving her extra credit.

“You may have the night off,” Zander said curtly. “I’ll send my driver to take you to the airport. Anything else?”

She stared at him for a few seconds, still blinking in disbelief. He guessed he’d expected her to be happier about the news, but he didn’t exactly deliver it with flowers and sugary promises.

“You fired Kristal?” she confirmed.

He raked his eyes over her. “Seems that way.”

“You broke it off with her? I mean, I know about your—” She rubbed her forehead, looking around the room. Why? Was she expecting this to be a big prank? Clearly, she thought very little of him in the morals department.

“Do you need this in writing, wife?”

“That would be great, actually.”

He smirked. “Get your smart ass out of my office before I spank it.”

“You’re awful,” she said, getting up from her seat and walking back to the door.

Zander watched her every movement, wondering why he found her so fascinating, and inwardly asking himself what the fuck he was doing.

“You look awful,” he retorted.

She stopped by the door, bowed her head and shook it, laughing. When she left, the smell of hope crawled into his nostrils, the smell of her vanilla shampoo and gingery, spicy perfume.

And he had to admit, he liked it a whole lot better.