Morgan walked tensely toward Malcolm Sterling's study, his steps heavy with hesitation. He couldn't believe his own impatience. Why couldn't he have waited? Scolding himself, he realized he might have just interrupted something. His boss's "predator and prey" moments were as unpredictable as they were unnerving.
But, come to think of it, his boss was acting weird lately. Torturing his wife and her friend last night in that unyielding Malcolm Sterling fashion—and now, a makeout session in the closet this morning? What was this transformation? From cold-hearted businessman to playboy?
Morgan shook his head. Mr Sterling's wife is freaking hot, he thought, half to justify his boss's recent behavior and half to distract himself from the uncomfortable imagery.
The study door creaked open, and Malcolm strode in with his usual commanding air. He took one look at Morgan, reading the confusion written all over his face, and scoffed lightly.
"Don't overthink it, Morgan," Malcolm said, his voice dripping with confidence. "I get what I want, whenever I want."
Morgan swallowed. "About Mr. Fitzroy…"
"What about her?" Malcolm's expression hardened as he sat at his desk, his fingers drumming on the surface.
"She's not doing too well," Morgan replied cautiously. "Her maid sent her to the hospital this morning."
A flicker of disinterest crossed Malcolm's face. "I see."
In moments like this, the two men instinctively referred to Stephanie as "Mr. Fitzroy" in the presence of Lucia. Not that Malcolm particularly cared about hiding the truth—he just preferred keeping his wife oblivious for now.
Morgan watched Malcolm's expression shift. The cold businessman was still there, but something else was lurking beneath the surface. It wasn't concern for Stephanie. No, it was something far more self-serving. Malcolm's smirk returned as his mind wandered back to the closet.
Lucia hadn't signed those rules yet. Not that it mattered—she'd remembered them clearly enough to recite them by heart. But her defiance was both infuriating and exhilarating. Tossing the document onto the car seat, refusing to comply, she had unknowingly invalidated the planned six-month divorce.
Reaching into a folder on his desk, Malcolm retrieved the rules document. A soft laugh escaped him as he shook his head. She was feisty, that one.
Morgan stared at his boss, his concern deepening. What exactly had this morning's make out done to his brain?
---
By the time Malcolm returned to his room, Lucia was gone. She had retreated to her own room, leaving the lingering scent of her perfume as the only trace of her presence.
Malcolm showered, the hot water rolling over his skin as he considered his next move. He no longer had real interest in Stephanie, but her condition was a matter of convenience. If nothing else, her presence stirred the pot, and he enjoyed watching Lucia squirm.
After dressing in the suit Lucia had picked out for him, Malcolm gave quick instructions to Brenda and Judy.
"Take her shopping," he ordered, referring to Lucia. "Get her new clothes, a proper wardrobe. And make sure she doesn't run into bad influences like Mattias or Celine."
The two women nodded, noting the unspoken threat behind his tone.
---
ONE HOUR LATER
Lucia, sat cross-legged on her bed, her phone propped up for a FaceTime call with Celine.
"How the hell did you survive last night?" Celine asked, her voice hushed.
Lucia sighed, her fingers toying with the edge of the blanket. "He let me off… but only after giving me another set of insane rules. I can't go to work anymore, Celine. I'm stuck here."
"What?!" Celine's face twisted in disbelief. "Girl, I would've cursed him out again, but after last night? Nope, not doing that again. I made a fool of myself, Lucia. I literally begged his bodyguards to tell my granny I loved her and that I wasn't growing up the way she wanted me to!"
Lucia laughed despite herself. "You did what?"
"It's not funny! I was terrified!" Celine exclaimed, though a smile tugged at her lips.
Lucia noticed the stark white walls behind her friend. "Where are you?"
"The hospital," Celine admitted. "I came to see my granny. After last night, I didn't think I'd get another chance."
Before Lucia could respond, Celine's attention shifted. Her gaze fixed on something off-camera, and her jaw dropped.
"What?" Lucia asked, frowning.
Celine didn't answer. Instead, she flipped her phone camera, revealing Malcolm Sterling himself. He was outside the hospital, his arms wrapped around a weak-looking woman—Stephanie.
Lucia's breath caught in her throat.
"Is that…"
"That's your husband, and I think that's Stephanie," Celine said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lucia ended the call abruptly, her phone shaking in her hand as she switched it to Do Not Disturb.
---
She bolted into the bathroom, gripping the sink as she splashed cold water onto her face. The image of Malcolm and Stephanie together burned in her mind.
He was wearing the suit she'd chosen for him, the very one he'd demanded she approve.
What were they doing at the hospital? Was Stephanie pregnant?
The questions clawed at her, each one more painful than the last. She wasn't supposed to feel this way. She knew that. And yet, she couldn't stop the hurt bubbling inside her.
Her thoughts flashed back to the make out session just barely two hours ago. The way Malcolm's hands had gripped her, the way she'd grinded him and ran her hands through his hair in the closet, his lips and hands everywhere at once.
She bent over the toilet, the nausea overwhelming her.
"He must have done the same thing to Stephanie yesterday," she whispered to herself, her voice breaking. "And now it's my turn today."
Tears blurred her vision as she straightened, staring at her disheveled reflection in the mirror.
"I hate you, Malcolm Sterling," she whispered. "I hate you."