Chapter 42 Run along
RORY POV
What exactly are you supposed to do when a woman is practically auditioning to be your husband's next mistress right in front of you?
Alexander had forced me to come with him to the office this morning. I'd protested-l'd much rather be home playing with Liam and his complex Lego architecture-but Alexander didn't give me a choice.
Who am I to dare my lord and savior?
He even made me dress “professional”, a white button-up shirt that hugged my breasts too tightly and a black pencil skirt that clung to my hips and thighs. Paired with Louboutin stilettos. If a stranger saw me, they’d assume I owned the building.
Instead I was shoved in a corner of his office while he sat in a meeting with three men and a woman, talking about God knows what.
The men were in suits. The woman was wearing a deep blue shirt with three or four buttons undone, her huge cleavage on full display, bending forward just a little too much so that her breasts was practically at my husband’s eye level. Her skirt was way too short, riding up every time she shifted. Her lips were painted red. She had been twirling her long blue hair for over an hour.
I had no idea why Alexander couldn’t push her away. Or maybe he was just entertaining her shenanigans on purpose.
I watched her hand brush his arm. Once. Twice. My stomach twisted. Heat crawled up my neck.
I watched Alexander instead. His back rested against his chair, arms muscled and crossed, and sometimes I genuinely forgot how dazzling my tyrant husband was. The same arms that lifted me effortlessly and pulled me close every night. He leaned forward and settled his arms on the mahogany table and I watched the blue haired lady track every single movement like she was deciding something.
There was nothing anyone needed to tell me. She wanted to get laid by him. Plain and simple.
I huffed dramatically at the thought.
I didn’t realize what I had done until every single person in the room turned and looked at me.
“Anything wrong, wife?” Alexander asked, eyes locking on me. That look again — the one that made my pulse jump and my thighs press together.
Of course everything was wrong. Starting from the blue-haired bimbo was practically crawling into his lap.
I shrugged. “Never mind.”
He stood. “The meeting is over. My wife needs me.”
“But Mr. Miller—” the woman started.
“I’m done.”
She shut up instantly.
Oh my freaking God. Why did she irritate me this much? Why?
“We’ll finalize and let you know,” one of the men said quickly. They shook Alexander’s hand and began heading out. The woman slipped a small, folded piece of paper onto the mahogany table.
My brows furrowed. Alexander glanced at it, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then, he picked it up and slid it into his suit jacket.
He. Took. It.
I was boiling. Absolutely boiling on the inside. You are a married man. That is called cheating.
It's not cheating when you're only married on paper, my subconscious offered helpfully.
Shut up. We are married. On paper is still married.
Hold on.
Am I jealous?
Definitely not.
We might only be married on paper, but this felt like a slap in the face.
The blue-haired lady walked past me, giving me a look that suggested I was just a temporary speed bump in her way.
I tried not to roll my eyes. Especially not with Alexander watching me.
He opened his mouth to say something.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, cutting him off. “I need to ask her where she got her heels from.”
He knew perfectly well I had no interest in her heels. I could see it on his face. But before he could say a word I slipped out of the office and practically ran after her down the corridor on my own stilettos.
I put my hearing aids back in.
“Excuse me,” I called.
She stopped. Her colleagues were already ahead and didn’t look back.
She turned and looked at me the way people looked at something they didn’t have time for.
“Rory right?” she said, her voice bored. “I’m sorry I didn’t know Alexander had gotten married until we came in today. I would have brought a gift.”
Like I cared about her gifts.
"It's Mrs. Miller to you," | said, my voice coming out steadier than I expected. I stepped into her personal space, forcing her to look up at me.
"You work for my husband. I am his wife. As long as you are under his employ, you do not call him by his first name. Especially not in front of me. Do you understand?"
She blinked, her mouth falling open. She looked like she couldn't believe the "quiet girl" from the corner was speaking. Well, I'm shocked as well.
“I work for your husband,” she said, recovering slightly. “Not for you.”
"Exactly. And I could make sure you're fired by lunch," I murmured, leaning in so the people passing by couldn't hear. "Flirting with my husband should be the last thing on your to-do list if you want to keep your paycheck."
She had somehow turned into a scared cat despite the fact that I was completely bluffing about the firing part.
“I’m sorry ma’am,” she said. Her voice had dropped considerably from the purring tone she had been using an hour ago.
“That’s what I thought. Now run along.”
I reached out and ruffled her perfectly styled blue hair with my fingers.
Just like Alexander always did mine.
She stared at me like I had grown a second head. Then she turned and walked away, almost running.
I stood in the corridor and watched her go.
Then I stood there for a moment longer processing what had just happened.
I had just threatened someone’s employment because she was flirting with my husband. I had ruffled her hair. I had called myself Mrs Miller to a stranger’s face like I always owned it.
What part of me was this? And what the hell was Alexander Miller turning me into?