Page 161 of The Wright Man

His mouth opened—just a little—but still, he said nothing.

"You don't even see how badly you treat me. How small I've become in this marriage. And I'm done trying to convince you of something you're never gonna understand."

I laughed, bitter and shaky.

"Those thirty seconds in Maleek's arms? They were better than four years of your bullshit."

His nostrils flared. I didn't care.

"I won't beg you to see me anymore. I won't keep shrinking so you can feel big. I'm done."

I took a breath. In and out. My chest was tight, my lungs felt like they'd been scrubbed raw, but it was out. All of it. I'd said everything I came to say. Maybe a little messier than I wanted. Definitely a little louder than I meant. But I said it.

And then I realized Gavin hadn't moved.

He was still standing in the doorway, wide-eyed, still, like some dumbass deer caught in high beams. I waited. Gave him a full minute to speak. To react. To breathe.

Nothing.

I was about to ask if he had anything to say when I heard it.

"Vinnie, is that the room service?"

A woman's voice.

Soft. Familiar. Comfortable. Intimate.

My heart slammed into my ribs. The chill started in my fingers and spread up my arms, through my neck, down my spine. I went still.

"Vinnie?" I said, slowly, like I needed to hear myself say it to believe it.

He had the fucking nerve to flinch.

"Gavin... Who the hell is that?"

My voice was low. Cold. Dangerous. It felt foreign in my mouth, like it had come from someone else entirely.

He had the decency to look like a man who'd just gotten caught slipping. He closed his eyes, inhaled like it physically pained him, then turned and opened the door wider.

And there she was.

Jasmine.

His damn secretary.

Pregnant, wearing one of Gavin's T-shirts and nothing else. Her hair still damp from the shower. Her feet bare. Her belly unmistakable.

The kind of cozy and smug only a woman who knew she wasn't a secret anymore could be.

I didn't move.

I didn't scream.

Not yet.

I just... stood there. Staring. Everything in me went quiet. My body didn't feel like mine. My ears rang.

I had spent the past two hours drowning in guilt over a kiss. A moment of weakness that I confessed immediately, that I took ownership of, that I swore to never justify—because it was wrong.