Page 75 of Unlock My Heart

Fabien’s shoulders fall. “Sienna⁠—”

“Move.” I give him a shove, but the mountain of a man doesn’t budge. “It’s either my client comes inside, or I go to his place,” I warn, and he drops his hand with a growl.

With a practiced smile, I open the door and greet the client, taking his hand into mine. “Sorry about the mix-up. Come in.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” he says with a charming Texas drawl. In his early fifties, he’s one of the better-looking clients; hence, why he was cast for this little performance.

Fabien grabs my arm, jerking me away from the client. “The only mix-up is my wife thinking she’s going to fuck another man in my house.”

“My house,” I correct him, poking my black manicured finger in the middle of his chest. “And the only mix-up is my husband thinking he has any say in my life. This way to my bedroom,” I tell the client, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs.

“Sienna, do you really expect me to let another man fuck you?” Fabien takes the stairs two at a time, beating me to the bedroom and blocking the door.

I click my tongue. “I don’t expect anything from you, current husband. That way, I’ll never be disappointed.”

“Get the fuck out,” Fabien barks at the client.

He holds up his hands. “The lady can speak for herself.”

“I’ve spoken. Move,” I tell Fabien, shooing him.

Fabien steps to the side, but I know that look all too well. The calm before the storm.

Everyone enters the bedroom, and I give it three seconds until Fabien tosses the client out on his ass.

One.

Two.

Fabien crosses the room and pours himself two fingers’ worth of whiskey from the wet bar.

Two and a half.

Striding across the room, Fabien drags a chair with him, positioning himself at the foot of the bed. “Proceed.”

“Didn’t ask for your permission.” My tone’s one of disinterest, but internally, I’m spiraling.

Proceed? As in fuck this man? Because I was not mentally prepared to have sex with anyone tonight.

And while Fabien watches?

He takes a sip of whiskey, his eyes never leaving mine.

Alright then, bluff called.

Fabien

The present

Another man is kissing my wife. This is neither the fantasy nor the reality I had in mind.

It takes all my restraint to keep my ass planted in this chair and not snap this man’s neck. But I understand Sienna’s game: She wants to torture me. The woman gave me her heart freely once, and I was a damn fool. So I’ll take my lumps, watch this fucker unzip my wife’s dress.

The black fabric slips to her ankles, those perfect tits nearly spilling out of her bra, her beautiful ass covered in a slip of a thong. Having been celibate for nearly a decade, I can’t blame my poor cock for leaking everywhere.

Hands that don’t belong to me palm her ass, giving it a rough squeeze.

Hands that do belong to me squeeze the glass tumbler of whiskey so hard it shatters.