Chapter 1

First-Person Point of View When I pushed the door open, I noticed Tristan Godfrey's secretary, Scarlett Robertson, crouched under his desk. She was deliberately teasing him, and Tristan struggled to control his expression. I looked straight at him and calmly placed a document before him. "This is the request for funding for the western suburb project. Sign it." Enduring immense pleasure, he signed each page, not bothering to read through them. Only then did he look up, his gaze unfocused. "Wait... Weren't you supposed to fly back tomorrow? Why are you back all of a sudden?" I took the documents. "I came back to handle something urgent." Before I turned to leave, I flicked a glance toward the space under the desk. "Let her come out." Tristan was stunned. He probably thought I would lose my temper again and snap at Scarlett like before. But I only added flatly, "If she stays down there too long, her legs will go numb." He knew he was in the wrong, so he changed the subject. "What urgent matter did you come back to handle?" I didn't answer. I just closed the door and hung up the "Do Not Disturb" sign. He didn't know that I'd just finished taking care of that urgent business. From behind the door, Scarlett's soft, coquettish complaint floated out. "Mr. Godfrey, I was so scared just now." Tristan chuckled softly, his voice rough with desire. "What are you scared of? Riley wouldn't dare touch you." "But she's your wife..." "Exactly. She knows her place. See? She left on her own." I stood outside the door, the hallway light slanting across the floor by my feet. Scarlett's voice turned even softer. "Then, are you still going home tonight?" "Having fun is one thing," Tristan said casually. "I'm still going home." Scarlett giggled. "Mr. Godfrey, you're just too used to being taken care of. You can't even manage staying out for one night? I can do whatever she does. Didn't I please you just now? Was it not good enough?" "You're not the same as her," he drawled. "She's stubborn, but she can't live without me. She even turned her back on her family just to marry me. You know that. If I don't go home, do you really think you'd all be fine?" He talked about the heavy topic as though he were saying something sweet. Scarlett's voice went syrupy. "Do you really like her that way? She acts tough, but she's really just pitiful!" The air went quiet for a moment. Then, I heard Tristan give a soft laugh and ask, "What do you think?" "I think—" Before Scarlett could finish, I pushed the door open. Both of them froze. Scarlett was sitting on Tristan's desk, while he lounged back in his chair, his shirt collar open. When he saw me, he blanked for a moment, then lifted a brow. "Did you forget something?" I didn't answer. Instead, I walked in and went straight to the coffee table. I really had left my car keys there. I picked them up and turned to go. "Riley." Tristan stood, came around the desk, and walked over. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close. At the office, he'd always been this way. Physical affection came more naturally to him than words. I eased out of his grip. He'd been fooling around with Scarlett, so her perfume lingered on him. I recognized it immediately. It was the same perfume on my vanity. When he gave it to me last month, he'd claimed it was "one of a kind" and perfect for me. Now that I thought about it, he must have bought at least five bottles. "I'll come home for dinner tonight," he said in that familiar, gentle tone. "What do you want to eat? I'll cook myself, okay?" Scarlett gave a small, irritated huff from the side. "No," I said. "I have plans tonight." Tristan's smile faded, but the corners of his mouth remained slightly curved. "What's wrong? Are you mad?" He leaned closer. "Is it because of Scarlett? I told you, she's just—" "I know," I cut in softly. "She's an intern secretary. She needs hands-on training." As for what kind of "training" that meant, it depended on what he wanted. Tristan froze for a second. He probably hadn't expected that I wouldn't make a scene or even throw in a cutting remark. He lifted a hand as if he wanted to touch my face. I quickly moved to avoid it. "Fine." He shrugged, then switched to gripping my arm. "No matter what plans you have, be home before 9:00 pm." Scarlett let out a snort of laughter. I looked at her. She looked back at me. Compared to the women I'd dealt with before, she'd been protected too well. She didn't even bother disguising the smugness and provocation in her eyes. Being young really was nice. Looking at her bright, youthful face, I felt like I was 20 years old again. I recalled that summer when Tristan held me close and we ran out of the psychiatric hospital together.