A Deadly Affair—The Femme Fatale Series Page 2

  Greg nodded, hoping his face didn't show the guilt he was feeling. Leaving his toast and coffee untouched, he stood and grabbed his briefcase. “I'm gonna get going.”

  Cynthia glanced at the wall clock. “It's only five past seven. How come you're leaving so early?”

  “We've got some big houses to show today,” Greg lied, “I just wanna brush up on the history, the interior, the layout, you know.”

  “Ah.” Cynthia nodded. “Customer satisfaction.” Standing up, she hurried around the breakfast bar then handed him his lunch bag. Even this made him feel guilty, knowing she'd packed him a lunch when he'd betrayed her not 11 hours earlier.

  She followed behind him as he walked down the hall to the front door. He placed his hand on the doorknob then glanced back to make sure she had a good grip on Jesse's collar. If Jesse got outside, she made it her mission to greet as many people as possible whilst avoiding re-capture.

  Jesse thought it was the greatest game ever. Everyone else did not.

  Seeing Cynthia had hold of Jesse's collar, Greg opened the door then turned away. “I'll see you later, honey,”

  “Aren't you forgetting something?”

  Greg turned to see Cynthia giving him the eyebrows-raised-you-just-did-something-wrong look. “No kiss for me this morning?”

  It would be the first kiss he'd given her since his lips had locked on Ashley's.

  Greg smiled. “Of course. Sorry.” He leaned forward and pecked her on the mouth quickly before backing away.

  Cynthia frowned as he backed down the steps and onto the garden path. “Are you sure you're okay?”

  “Yeah. I'm just a little distracted today.”

  “Well, don't worry. We'll let our hair down tonight. It's been ages since we went out together.”

  Greg mustered his most enthusiastic smile and nodded. “Can't wait.”

  Cynthia smiled coyly. “Wait until you see my dress. I'll have you drooling.”

  Greg pursed his lips. “I double can't wait.”

  “Bye sweetie. Love you.”

  “I love you, too,” he called, walking towards his car. He thought it may be a good idea to treasure these moments, because if Cynthia found out about his fling with a secretary, he'd likely never hear those words from her mouth ever again.

  By the time he'd climbed into his car, Cynthia had closed the door. It took a lot of strength to hold Jesse back when she wanted to run off, so Cynthia hadn't lingered to watch him drive away. Greg gripped the steering wheel in his hands and stared forward. The Christmas party. Even if he managed to avoid Ashley today, he wouldn't be able to tonight. The company had rented one of the function rooms in a large hotel for the party; everyone who worked for the damn firm would be in that one room.

  Worried that Cynthia may be watching him from a window and wondering what was really on his mind, he started the car and drove slowly to work. Judging by the way Ashley had thrown herself at him the night before, sleeping with a married man wasn't something she was above, but surely she wouldn't want everyone knowing about it. She'd have to be crazy to start something at the party tonight. Home wrecker. That's the name she would have to get used to if people found out. There were a lot of older women, women that'd been married for decades who worked at the office. These women would judge Ashley just as hard as they would Greg, if not harder. No. He didn't think he needed to worry about Ashley saying anything about what happened.

  But, if her goal wasn't to tell anyone and she intended to avoid him too, then what was the point? What exactly did she want from him? What should he expect from her next?

  Chapter Two.

  Greg hurried through the main lobby and rushed to the lift, eager to reach his floor without anyone seeing him or stopping him for a chat. He'd never felt this anxious since his very first date when he was 15 years old, though this feeling was far less pleasant. Mixed in with the butterflies was a heavy nauseous feeling that just wouldn't ease. Whenever he thought of seeing Ashley, having to talk to her or her seeking him out to discuss the night before, the feeling became less like butterflies and more like a pile of writhing hissing snakes.

  The lobby was crowded with the normal hustle and bustle of the morning. No-one paid any attention to Greg as he stood shifting from one foot to the other, praying for the lift to hurry the hell up. When the lift finally reached him, he rushed inside, grateful and thankful. A number of people entered the lift with him, some faces he recognized, some he did not.

  The ride to his floor was an anxious one. He worked on the top floor-the 9th floor-and the lift stopped at every single floor on the way up. Some people stepped off, others got on. Greg's worst thought at the moment was Ashley entering the lift with him. To be so close to her in an enclosed space...

  The lift dinged, indicating its arrival on the 9th floor and Greg rushed out, grateful that the mental torment was over, for now. He all but ran to his office, nodding his head in acknowledgement to the people who greeted him but refusing to stop for anything. Only when he was safe in his own office with the door closed behind him did he feel safe.

  Now if he could just stay here all day and deal with no-one, he'd be okay.

  The fear of seeing Ashley and having to talk to her was still real, but she wasn't working on his floor today. Ashley seemed to be an odd-job secretary; she didn't work on one particular floor and was sent where ever she was needed. Greg knew for a fact that she was working on the second floor, though that hadn't stopped her from coming to his office last night.

  Greg sat at his desk, the scene of the crime, and lowered his head. Jesus. He'd actually betrayed Cynthia with a secretary, a woman he'd met only one week earlier, a women he didn't know. The only thing he did know about Ashley was the same thing every heterosexual male working at the company knew about her: she was absolutely gorgeous. Was that how shallow he was? That he'd forget about the wife he loved, the great life he had just because a beautiful young woman gave him the eye?

  Greg pulled some papers from his briefcase and tried to focus on the contents, but his mind kept straying. He wondered if he'd be able to go on and keep this secret. He imagined a scenario in his mind, a scenario in which Ashley stayed away from him and he never had to speak to her again. Would he be able to go home to Cynthia every night and look her in the eyes knowing what he'd done?

  Greg sighed with shame. Yes. Yes he could do that. In fact, he wished for that. The guilt he felt could be eased by making Cynthia happy, by channelling his shame and regret into becoming a better husband. Only one question remained-would he ever stray again? The fact that he'd been seduced so easily by only a woman's good looks made him ponder this question with serious doubts. In that moment, he swore he'd never betray Cynthia ever again, but when Ashley had entered his office and sat on his desk, leaning over so he could see her cleavage as she made direct eye contact, he'd known then that something was happening. He could have stopped it. He could have asked her to leave his office as he had to get home to his wife.

  But he hadn't.

  The more seductive Ashley became, the more hooked Greg had become. When she'd moved around the table and got to her knees in front of him, he'd gasped for air as he'd asked what she was doing. She'd started tugging at his belt as she'd licked her lips. Again, he could've stopped her. He could've pushed her away and ordered her to stay the hell away from him. But, he'd remained where he was as lust chased all nobility and morality away. As Ashley took him in her mouth, all that mattered was her. Cynthia became a distant memory, one to be remembered later after guilt replaced his lust.

  He'd give absolutely anything in return for his old life back, a life unblemished with memories of infidelity and hot blonde secretaries bent over his desk, moaning in pleasure as he screwed her in a way he never had his wife. Though he felt terrible, he made a decision right there-he would deny and lie about the whole thing. If Ashley did try to make any trouble for him, she had no proof. It would be her word against his and he'd never given Cynthia any reason to doubt him.
>
  He felt like a total shit, but not bad enough that he'd risk losing everything for some meaningless fling. Feeling a little better, Greg pushed all memories of the night before out of his mind and got to work.

  *

  Half an hour until closing time and Greg was feeling fantastic. He hadn't seen Ashley all day and she hadn't tried to make any contact with him. Perhaps she just wanted one hot night from him or perhaps she'd seduced him to serve her own ego. She'd managed to get a married man to temporarily forget his vows for her. Maybe she was happy with the knowledge that she held that much power and would focus her sights on someone harder to get? Either way, Greg was happy and relieved. If Ashley had wanted something more from him, she'd have made contact with him by now, and he knew she was working today as a bunch of documents had been sent directly to her on the second floor to file. He still felt terrible, but he'd get himself through it and focus all his attention on Cynthia and their marriage.

  Then, everything fell apart.

  A knock on Greg's office door made his stomach sink and his heart race. When he heard Mike's voice call to him from the other side, he relaxed and called him in.

  Mike Richardson was an imposing man, and as Greg watched him enter his office, he was struck by the smug look on his face. As always, Mike's suit was impeccable, his hair perfect and the top buttons of his shirt unbuttoned just enough to make out the top of a perfectly muscled chest. Mike was, and had been for as long as Greg had known him, vain. He worshipped himself as God's gift to women, something he said fairly regularly along with the statement that God had never intended for him to tie himself to only one woman when there were so many in need of satisfying. When thinking seriously, Greg supposed he and Mike had never actually been friends, they simply worked together and had a regular drink at the local bar every Friday. The night Greg had taken Cynthia, however, the two men hardly spoke unless something came up at work. So, Mike in his office with a smug smile on his face was an interesting development in an altogether emotional day.

  The bastard's probably bagged the Soloman house, Greg thought.

  “You look like the cat that got the cream,” Greg said.

  Mike looked at him and smiled before sauntering over to the desk, his arms held out to show their large size. “I've certainly got something.”

  “The Soloman house?” Greg asked, realising that he didn't care, though that house had been the talk of the office for a fortnight.

  “Nope. Better than a house.”

  “Who is she then?”

  Mike laughed. “We haven't spoken for a while, but you still know me.” Mike straightened up and folded his arms, holding eye contact for a little longer than necessary before turning and strolling to the other end of the office.

  Greg frowned, beginning to feel annoyed. What the hell was going on?

  Mike picked up framed picture of Greg and Cynthia, smiling at it in such a way that made Greg think of a shark picking out the most delicious looking seal.

  “How's Cynthia? Still as stunning as ever?”

  “Cynthia's fine, Mike. What can I do for you?”

  Mike set the picture back in its place and regarded Greg thoughtfully. “Women. They're complex creatures, aren't they?”

  Greg frowned and shrugged, unsure of what to say.

  “Of course, they'd probably say the same thing about us. Especially me.” Mike laughed. “I've broken a few hearts in my time.”

  “Mike. What do you want.”

  Mike cocked his head and stared at Greg. “Have you seen that hot blonde secretary around? Name's Ashley.”

  Greg felt heat rush to his face. He shook his head as he began to gather papers together, trying to appear casual. “No, can't say I have.”

  “Really? Come on, I know you're married but you'd have to be blind or gay to not notice this bird-she's stunning.”

  “Maybe I'd know her if I saw her. The name doesn't ring a bell, though.”

  “You would definitely know if you saw her, like I said, she's gorgeous.”

  “I take it she's the next woman on your hit list then?”

  Mike grinned and lowered his head. Greg realised this could actually be a good thing. If Mike started something up with Ashley, then she definitely wouldn't want to continue anything with him. Mike could actually be useful for something.

  “Well, I probably would've gone for her, but someone beat me to it.” Mike raised his head and regarded Greg, squinting his eyes. Greg's stomach sank, his body tensed. He felt like throwing up. He lowered his head. “Bummer.”

  “Yeah, it is. You sure you don't know her?”

  “I'm sure. Look, Mike, I've got some things to sort out here before I head home. Perhaps we could carry this conversation on another time?”

  “Yeah. You'll be at the party later won't you, with Cynthia? We could chat about Ashley then.”

  “Better yet, you could talk to this Ashley then. Make your move.”

  “Like I said, someone beat me to it. A married man, no less.”

  Greg kept his head down and tried really hard to appear uninterested, but in reality, he'd never felt worse.

  Mike knew.

  How did he know? Had he chatted Ashley up and she'd thrown Greg's name in there? If so, then she may have told other people. Not that she'd need to, if Mike knew, then soon everyone would know. Greg decided to continue with the casual attitude. Even if Mike suspected something, there was no proof and Greg could deny the whole thing.

  “What's up, Greg? Scared I'll tell everyone that you banged a hot secretary over your desk last night?”

  Greg felt the words like a physical slap to his face.

  It was over. His marriage, his life, probably his job.

  “If you're gonna have an extra marital romp in your office after closing time, it'd be a good idea to make sure everybody's left before you slide it in.”

  Greg forced himself to look at Mike, resisting the urge to punch the smug look off the other man's face. “Listen Mike-“

  “Oh, you don't need to explain anything to me, I'm just like you. I've never been able to resist pussy, and I never will. But, I don't think Cynthia will be quite as understanding.”

  “She doesn't need to know, Mike. It was a mistake I don't ever intend to make again.”

  Mike nodded. “Yeah. That's a good idea. You'll have to keep your fingers crossed that rumours don't start up. You know what this place is like.” Mike winked. “Anyway, I'll see you and Cynthia later. Should be a good night.”

  Mike walked over to the door, then hesitated before looking back at Greg. “I promise to forsake all others.”

  Greg simply stared as Mike laughed. He watched the man leave his office and didn't think he'd ever felt so much hatred towards another human being. What was Mike going to do with this juicy information? Would he set out to destroy Greg's marriage? Or would he use it as leverage to throw at Greg whenever he felt like it?

  Greg covered his face with his hands.

  What would be better, Cynthia learning the truth from him, or from Mike?

  Oh God, please please don't let her find out. Please.

  Chapter Three.

  Greg followed behind Cynthia as she entered the large function room hired by the company for the Christmas party. His stomach bunched and knotted, sweat laced his brow and his heart pounded underneath the smart black suit he wore. Never had he wished he was somewhere else any more than he did at that moment.

  The chatter of many voices greeted he and Cynthia as she led him straight towards the bar. The room looked as though Christmas had thrown up all over it-tinsel hung on every wall and adorned the back of every chair, Christmas ornaments decorated each of the round tables dotted around the room and a large Christmas tree sparkled and glittered in the corner just left of the dance floor. The Christmas music was loud and merry, filling Greg with the almost overwhelming urge to plug his fingers into his ears.

  He glanced around as he followed Cynthia, his feeling of dread worsening. It looked as
though every single colleague had turned up for the party. Some stood in large groups, laughing and joking and smiling as if they liked each other. Others stood quietly with their spouses, looking around as if they too had been encouraged to attend the party by their partners and wished they could be at home.

  In spite of his obvious reasons for wishing to avoid this particular party, Greg had always hated these kind of work get-togethers. He supposed every office was known for the bitchiness among the workers, but parties, especially the ones that included alcohol, were the match to the puddle of petrol. Though everyone appeared to be getting along right now, the office would be rampant with gossip on Monday morning-who had slept with whom; which woman had worn the sluttyist outfit; who had gotten so drunk that they'd been escorted, or kicked out, of the hotel; who had picked a fight and who had lost the fight. Greg associated himself with the least possible amount of people in the office as possible whilst doing his job and even avoided the coffee room whenever possible. There were people that worked in his office that he didn't even know, yet he knew their personal problems due to the people gossiping about them, people who obviously had nothing better to do.

  If his affair with Ashley was heard by just one person, it'd be all over the building in no time. He couldn't decide whether he should be afraid of Ashley telling anyone, but he was terrified that Mike would start rumours. He clearly still hadn't gotten over the fact that Cynthia had picked Greg that night.

  Greg reached the bar and nodded to the man smiling at him. What was his name? Stuart? Or Stephen?

  “You all right, mate?”