Zoe Lancaster watched helplessly as the door shut, cutting her off from the outside world. Her ankle twisted in her high heels, sending her crashing into a firm chest enveloped in a crisp, cool fragrance.
She was wearing a button-up shirt underneath her jacket today. Unable to withstand the sudden tug, two buttons instantly popped off, exposing her full curves and milky-white lace bra right in front of Simon Hawthorne’s eyes.
Simon clearly hadn’t expected this either. He lowered his gaze, his eyes instantly darkening.
Feeling a sudden chill on her chest, Zoe frantically clutched her shirt together in a panic. By the time she looked up, Simon’s expression had already returned to normal. He watched her embarrassment with casual indifference. "Why were you running?"
She hadn’t expected him to keep her behind alone. Now that her clothes were ruined, an unspeakable awkwardness hung in the air—even though the man standing in front of her was her husband.
"I wasn’t running. I just have work to get back to. Is there anything else you need, Mr. Hawthorne?" She forced a nonchalant smile, trying her best to look unaffected.
Simon stared at her. His eyes dropped to her trembling hands clutching the fabric over her chest. Through the gaps between her fingers and the ruined shirt, he could still clearly see her soft, pale cleavage. He remembered exactly how it felt in his hands, a memory that now ignited a sudden spark of heat in his veins.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. Tearing his gaze away, he pulled out his phone and called Secretary Linden. "Go buy a women’s suit."
Over the years, Secretary Linden had always been the one to purchase clothes and jewelry for Zoe on Simon’s behalf, so he knew her sizes well. He immediately went to carry out the task.
Secretary Linden wondered why a change of clothes was needed, and when Mr. Hawthorne had ever made such an exception—right here in the office, no less. But of course, no one cared about his inner thoughts.
Simon took off his suit jacket and handed it to Zoe. "Put this on."
She pressed her lips together and silently accepted the jacket, slipping it over her shoulders. She wondered if he was so unwilling to look at her that he found her sight repulsive enough to make her cover up.
"I heard that after I left, you went straight from The Imperial Residence back to your apartment." Simon sat down on the sofa. His voice was neither cold nor warm, sounding exactly like a complete stranger.
Zoe hadn’t expected him to know everything. A sharp pang stung her heart, but she had to swallow her pride and feign magnanimity for the sake of her future divorce settlement. "Since you went to look for Stella Joyce, I was worried you might bring her back. I didn’t want to run into you two and ruin your mood."
Simon’s lips curled into an unreadable smirk. "You’re much too understanding, Mrs. Hawthorne."
His words felt like a sharp blade dropping on her neck. A chill ran down her spine as she instantly realized she had overplayed her hand.
"I... I was just afraid that seeing it with my own eyes would hurt too much. That kind of scene is far too humiliating. I have my pride, too."
"Pride?" Simon shifted his gaze toward her. His stare was so piercing that it stripped away all her defenses. "Would a woman with pride say things like, ’A little harder’?"
Zoe froze, completely failing to comprehend his words. She wondered what he meant by that.
Seeing her bewildered expression, Simon leisurely clipped a cigar. His mind couldn’t help but recall her behavior in bed that night. Most of the time, he believed alcohol was no good, but occasionally, it could unearth some surprisingly delightful entertainment. He had watched with his own eyes as this usually stiff and dull woman transformed into a seductive enchantress. Even when pushed to tears, she had continued to delightfully provoke him with her sweet, coquettish moans.
Suddenly, he felt a sting of heat against his fingers. He glanced down at the cigar, realizing he had accidentally brushed against the burning tobacco. Whether it was the heat from the flame or something else entirely, a wave of restless fire flared up within his body, leaving him inexplicably frustrated.
Just then, Secretary Linden knocked and entered the office. He handed a paper bag to Zoe. "Please try these on, ma’am." Before she could respond, he disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.
Zoe stood in stunned silence for a long moment before finally asking, "Where should I change?"
Although Simon’s office was spacious, it didn’t have a private lounge. With floor-to-ceiling windows on all sides, there was virtually nowhere to hide.
Simon remained completely unfazed. "If you want to walk out to the restroom in my jacket to change, I won’t stop you."
She thought he must be joking. Outside was the massive secretarial department. If she walked out under the scrutiny of so many eyes, rumors would spread throughout the entire company in less than half an hour!
"How about you... turn around?" Zoe suggested.
Simon shot her a cold glance. "You sure have a lot of demands."
Zoe shut her mouth. Turning her back to him, she took off his suit jacket and her ruined shirt.
Simon was caught off guard by the sight. Her back was pale and beautifully contoured. Below her delicate shoulder blades was a waist significantly slimmer than average, dipping into deep dimples at her lower back. The only flaw was a scar about two inches long near the dimples. However, it didn’t affect the sensation when gripping her waist from behind—
His thoughts were drifting dangerously far. Frowning sharply, he forced himself to look away.
After changing into her new clothes, Zoe tried to hold back but ultimately couldn’t resist asking one more question. "Last night, what exactly did you and Stella Joyce... go do?"
It had seemed like something went wrong on Stella’s end.
Simon snuffed out his cigar. "We’re all adults here. Is it necessary to ask such a mindless question?"
His tone was calm, yet undeniably cruel, striking directly at her most vulnerable spot.
Zoe’s chest heaved slightly. She felt as though she had only brought this humiliation upon herself. Lowering her head, she smiled bitterly at her own fleeting, pathetic attempt to find comfort. "I shouldn’t have asked. If there’s nothing else, I’ll go back to work."
"Wait."
Zoe turned back around. She met Simon’s cold gaze. He unhurriedly flicked the ash from his cigar, his thin lips parting to deliver words that sounded casual but hid a sharp edge. "A friend of mine mentioned that he might have seen you at Riverbend Tavern a couple of days ago."
This was the real reason he had kept her behind. Just as he expected, he clearly saw Mrs. Hawthorne’s expression freeze. Though the lapse was fleeting and quickly concealed, it was unmistakable.
A layer of cold sweat broke out over Zoe’s back. She wondered if his friend had seen something.
Clenching her jaw, she forced herself to remain calm. "Is that so? I didn’t notice him, so I didn’t say hello."
Afraid that offering too many explanations would make her look guilty, she turned and walked out without another word.
Simon narrowed his eyes. Originally, he hadn’t planned on hiding the truth about their accidental one-night stand. But Zoe had mistaken him for someone else, acting as if the whole thing had never happened. In his eyes, she was purely mercenary, terrified of losing her position as Mrs. Hawthorne.
He could have easily told her the truth, but her array of reactions had completely ruined his appetite for it. In that case, he might as well play along.
Zoe hurried back to the Public Relations Department, her heart still racing wildly.
She frantically wondered if Simon’s friend had seen anything else, and whether Simon’s words had been an offhand comment or held a deeper, more dangerous meaning.
She couldn’t tell, nor did she dare to guess.
Right now, she had to hold onto the Hawthorne family as her trump card. Ever since her mother fell ill, Zoe woke up every day to astronomical medical bills. Her father, Martin Lancaster, couldn’t wait for his legal wife to die and had long since washed his hands of her mother’s care. If Zoe failed to secure the one billion in divorce compensation Simon had promised her, once their marriage contract expired in a year and they officially divorced, her mother’s daily medical expenses of nearly a hundred thousand would bleed her dry in no time.
Simon and Stella’s brazen public flaunting already left her physically and mentally exhausted, and the messy one-night stand incident was giving her a splitting headache.
"Lancaster, why did you change your clothes?"
Director Carter stopped in his tracks as he walked by, dropping the unexpected question. Hearing this, the other colleagues at their desks also looked up at her.