Chapter 1

One

Hazel Voss

“ S he doesn’t know. I swear it, Vanessa. Even if she suspects—and she doesn’t because she’d have to pull her face away from a computer screen long enough to pay attention to the world around her—she’d never guess it’s you.” The hushed voices in the alcove near the restrooms belong to my soon-to-be husband and a woman I recognize by name only. I say by name because it’s been all over the guest lists as the plus one of my fiancé’s boss.

Contrary to Trevor’s whispered assurance to his employer’s wife, I’m neither stupid nor so buried behind my computer that I fail to notice the world around me. I notice plenty. Most of the time, it’s just not worth the effort to participate in any of it. The current situation is the best example of why my attitude is absolutely warranted.

“This is too risky to do here, Trev. Just wait and come over tonight. Jonathan will be with the girl he doesn’t think I know about. We’ll have the house to ourselves,” the woman, Vanessa, entreats him in a husky voice, her words interspersed with the sound of skin-on-skin as they undoubtedly grope one another.

And maybe, if I loved Trevor the way a woman loves the man she’s marrying, I’d have more feelings about what I’m only now learning. Possibly his betrayal would rip through me and crush my heart. Instead, the whole tawdry cliché feels predictable and trite. Make no mistake, his infidelity absolutely infuriates me. In this day and age, adultery creates unnecessary health risks as well as potential drama in the workplace when the parties involved are connected through employment.

I love Trevor, but I’m not in love with him. Nor is he in love with me. He needs a wife to present a settled image, and I’m ready play the part he needs. Or I was. So I’d thought.

“I can’t wait. I need you now.” The urgency and neediness in Trevor is a turnoff, and I’m thankful now for the rarity of our intimate relations.

In the six months we’ve been together, I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve had sex. Foolishly, I’d assumed that was due to my being off birth control and his determination to maintain the traditional order of things. Wedding, honeymoon, pregnancy, two kids and a dog in a house with a holiday greeting card life.

Huh, maybe, I am a stupid girl. I bought into his vision for our future, hook, line, and sink my battleship. Little did I realize, all those nights I was stifling my libido with tepid shower sologasms, my fiancé was busy playing needy sub for his boss’s wife.

There’s a soft thud, and I peek around the corner to see Trevor on his knees in front of a much older woman. Her frown contradicts the fierce clutch of her fingers in his short hair as she guides his head under the skirt of her knee-length dress.

“Fine. You can have a taste. But be quiet and no touching that little dick of yours or it’ll spend the rest of the night in the cage.” Her cool voice is in total control, despite the way his head nods beneath her gown, presumably with his oral efforts.

Tonight is our rehearsal dinner. The dining room of the posh restaurant on the thirtieth floor of The Centennial behind me is filled with the minimal family we both have, our friends, and work associates. Tomorrow is the day we’re scheduled to exchange vows, a lavish reception arranged to impress his superiors and demonstrate Trevor’s dedication to embracing family life that will follow the wedding.

Can I go through with it? Marrying a man for whom I hold no passion for is one thing. Passion and love, those fairytales are quaint and I appreciate them the way one appreciates art on the walls of a gallery. The ideas are pleasant. Evocative even. But not inherently logical or necessary. So can I marry a man I don’t love? Sure. But a man who doesn’t respect our relationship? One who cheats on me? I don’t think I can manage that.

Anxious bile rises in my throat, wine from the toasts we made stinging like acid trying to come back up. If I call off this wedding, and I have to, what will it be like going to work every day and seeing Trevor? Seeing Mr. Sindecott and knowing his wife is Trevor’s desperate obsession? The information that Mr. Sindecott, Jonathan, cheats on his wife is more than I want to know about him. It tarnishes the image I’ve had of him almost as much as the one I’ve had of Trevor until now.

Disgust for all of it blazes through me, and without thought for the future or even beyond this moment, my phone’s in my hand and aimed at the careless couple. Almost by rote, my fingers open a social media app, flick the livestream icon, and boom, suddenly I’m not the only one facing this dilemma.

Gasps filter through the polite chatter in the dining room behind me as notifications roll through the phones of the coworkers and associates here tonight. Chairs scrape over the highly polished marble floor as nosy people rush to their feet to find the source of the action.

“Trevor, you snake! Where are you? You’re fired!” Mr. Sindecott’s shout booms over the din, so loud from across the room that Trevor and Vanessa freeze.

I bite hard on the inside of my cheek to contain the bitter laugh that wants to break free when the woman my fiancé is on his knees for shoves him to his ass and steps back.

“Mrs. Sindecott, thank you for the lovely wedding gift. I do hope you held on to the receipt,” I say.

The woman stands with her back against the wall, her shoulders proud and her chin lifted. Her entire focus is on the man storming into the hallway behind me.

“Jonathan, you’re creating a scene by bellowing like that. Surely, you’d prefer to handle this privately, the way you expect me to quietly ignore your little dalliances.” Cool disdain oozes from every word.

Trevor’s attention bounces between them, horror dawning in his eyes when he realizes his beloved Vanessa can’t be bothered to give a single shit about his humiliating termination. Huh, guess that degradation kink of his doesn’t extend beyond sexy times. A pity, considering he’s got a lot of mortifying moments coming his way.

“Allow me to be the second person to give you your walking papers tonight, Trevor. The wedding’s off.” I pull the ostentatious engagement ring from my finger, the weight of its removal feeling like an unburdening I may one day recognize as the biggest indicator of the near miss I’ve been saved from.

It’s tempting to heave the sparkling gem at his disrespectful face, but practicality wins out. I know he dropped a lot of money to buy it because he’s mentioned it often enough. I’m sure I can find some interesting ways to spend the funds I’ll get from pawning it.

“See you Monday, Mr. Sindecott.” I give my boss a chin lift and walk around him, ignoring the dropped jaws and whispers in the room. As the only one not a participant in these infidelity shenanigans, I’ll let the three of them sort it out.

Fate blesses me, and the shiny silver doors of the elevator open just as I reach the restaurant’s lobby. It doesn’t even matter that it’s going up and not down. Anywhere but here is good enough for now.