Under the shower, as soon as I closed my eyes, my mind flooded with images of Richard erotically pressing my foot against his cock.
My hand slid down to my belly, then between my legs, uncontrollably.
The moment my fingers touched my folds, I moaned again.
No, Richard cheated.
I couldn't masturbate thinking of him.
I yanked my hand back, hoping the burning ache would fade on its own, but my body betrayed me.
I gave in completely, fingers thrusting between my legs.
After the climax, I cooled down, looking at my stomach.
Every morning, the first thing I thought about was the baby in my belly. When I did, nothing else seemed to matter.
My child couldn't grow up without a father. I knew too well what that felt like. Plus, my dad's company still relied on Winston Group's help. So I needed this marriage to last, needed at least the appearance of a family.
I had to talk to Richard. Tell him about the baby and what I'd overheard at the hospital. I wanted his answer, and greedily, a promise—no more other women.
After the shower, I slipped into a simple house dress, steeling myself to go to his study. But he pushed the door open first. Richard was already in a crisp shirt and slacks, hair perfect, like the intensity never happened.
"I have a last-minute meeting for a deal." He adjusted his cuffs, not looking at me. "Tomorrow night's charity gala at Calvin's—you're coming with me. The dress and accessories are arranged. They'll deliver them soon."
"Richard, I..."
"Natalie, you're my wife. Just follow my lead." He cut me off, walking over, lifting my chin. "A wife's main duty is in bed. I hope that was your last refusal."
He turned and left, giving me no chance to speak.
Later, a big gift box arrived in my room.
Inside was a champagne-colored one-shoulder floor-length gown, simple cut, luxurious fabric, with matching clutch and heels. Mature, steady—his usual pick for me.
The next evening,I was supposed to ride with Richard to the gala, but ten minutes before leaving, he texted.
"I have something to handle. Driver will take you straight there."
I stared at the commanding tone and shut off my phone.
The gala was at a swanky hotel in Beverly Hills.
The hall was full of people I knew or who knew me. I held a champagne flute, standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows. I was scanning for Richard, but spotted Olivia first.
Her gown was almost identical to mine—but fancier, with hand-embroidered bodice and more intricate skirt.
I didn't need anyone to spell it out. I got it.
A massive wave of humiliation squeezed my heart like an icy fist, stealing my breath.
"Natalie, long time no see." Olivia's voice came, laced with that arrogance I always hated. "After Richard had this dress custom-made for me last week, I told him to ditch the sample. Never thought it'd end up on you. It's not perfect, but since Richard gave it to you... Guess he thinks the knockoff suits you, right?"
Her words stabbed like knives.
I wanted to fire back, but my mouth opened and nothing came out—because she was right.
Richard had given me Olivia's castoffs.
