"You're going to hate me," Arthur said from behind me while I did my makeup in front of the mirror.

"You sure know how to start a lovely conversation."

He chuckled.

"VDO's is hosting its yearly fundraising gala this weekend. I have to go and I need a date. Will you be my date?"

All kinds of alarms went off in my head. VDO's? Gala? Date? Those were the ingredients of a deadly cocktail.

I set my makeup brush down on the sink. Arthur put it in the cup that contained my other brushes.

"The whole company will be there?" I asked.

I couldn't care less about who was and wasn't coming, but there was one person in particular that I did not want to see. For obvious reasons.

"Most of them, yes."

"And you want to introduce me to all of them?"

"I mean, I don't need to parade you around and show you off, but since I need a date anyway, I figured I'd bring my very own girlfriend. Insane, right?"

I ignored the sass but glared at him for using the G-word. He raised his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to say that. But you get what I mean."

"How many fundraisers per year do you attend?"

"A few. It's for a good cause, you know?"

"Is it? Or is the good cause just a front for you rich people to show off the insane amount of money you can spare?"

"Can't it be both?" He laughed and I smacked him on the shoulder.

"Anyway, I'm not going. VDO's people are not my type of crowd."

More specifically, one very hot CEO could not see me come to this event at the arm of his son. That would be a disaster of another category.

Arthur's face dropped.

"Please? I'll stay with you all the time, and we'll keep our interactions with other people to a minimum."

"It's funny how you're not counting yourself as a VDO's person whose company I don't enjoy," I tried to joke my way out of this dangerous conversation.

He laughed a little but did not let go. "Abril, please, this is important to me. I cannot show up without a date. That would be embarrassing."

Not more embarrassing than your date causing a scene with your daddy, I guarantee you.

"Why don't you take Carol?" I suggested.

"You want me to take my PA as a date?"

I gave him an incredulous look.

"Okay, point taken. But that was different. I liked you, the fact that you were my PA was purely coincidental. I would have found a way to ask you out eventually anyway."

"You liked me before I became your PA?"

That was news. I was genuinely curious, now.

"Don't try to derail the conversation, Abril."

"I could say the same to you. You can't just be dropping bombs on me and not expect me to react. I thought you hated me after our encounter at the store. Hell, God knows I hated you!"

He brought a hand to his heart. "Ouch. And no, I did not hate you. I was . . . irritated by your behavior, that's for sure, but mostly I was mesmerized, and slightly endeared."

"Endeared? What am I, a puppy?"

"Well, you do bark more than you bite," he chuckled, but my unimpressed look dissolved his attempt at humor and he continued. "You had a loud mouth and funny hair, that intrigued me. I've never had a loud mouth, nor a loud appearance. I was fascinated by you. And the fact that you just refused to treat your customer as king, like people in the service industry are required to, was equally unnerving and charming. Watching you squirm when I threatened to have you fired was perversely delightful, I have to admit. But I would have never gone through with it, I'm not that cruel."

I wanted to laugh and say that I knew it was all bluff. Then I wanted to yell at him for taking pleasure in intimidating me. But I was hung up on another part of what he'd said. The fact that he'd liked me from the beginning. That just couldn't be true. He was just this annoying Ginger Dude for me at that time, how could we have been on such different planets? Hell, even now I still wondered whether I really liked the guy or not. I had slept with his freaking father, for heaven's sake!

"Don't do that," he commanded while he placed a soft kiss on my bare shoulder.

He caught my questioning eyes in the mirror in front of us.

"You're overthinking, and probably panicking too. Don't do that. It's fine. I didn't expect you to like me when we met. I'm aware of how I come across."

I stayed silent.

"Forget about it, okay? None of that matters. Just come with me to this gala, please."

I had momentarily forgotten about that. The problem remained, though. There was no world in which I'd show up at the arm of Arthur in front of Victor.

"Arthur, I really don't—"

"Please, Abril. It won't be that bad. It's going to be excellent food and all-you-can-drink champagne, that has to be of some appeal to you."

Oh, yes it was.

"If I ever want excellent food and champagne, I can just go to your place, no need for galas," I deflected.

He laughed but he was visibly getting impatient.

"Abril . . ." He pressed.

"Is your dad going to be there?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I really don't want to see him."

"I thought you guys had gotten along fine when you worked together?"

Yeah, maybe a bit too fine . . .

"Is he going to be here or not?"

"He's not, actually. He has another commitment that night, I believe. He even gave me the great honor of reading his annual speech in his name," he said, clearly not feeling honored at all. "Hence, I need a date more than any other time. All eyes will be on me."

Did Victor really have another commitment, or could he just not bear the idea of showing his face to his company's event without his wife? In any case, that solved a lot of my problems.

"How much champagne did you say there'll be?"

Arthur's face lit up with his cute dimple-y smile.

"As much as you want."

"Will you dance with me?"

He rolled his eyes. "I'll give you one dance."

"Three."

"Deal."

That had been surprisingly easy. He must have been really desperate for me to come to that thing with him.

"I don't have any dress you like," I warned him. I didn't want a repeat of the last time we'd been to a gala together.

"That's not true, I like all your dresses."

I raised an eyebrow at him. That had to be the most epic lie.

"What? I do. You look lovely when you wear all those colors. They just don't fit a formal dress code. Let alone black tie."

"So, like I said, I have nothing to wear, and—"

"I'll buy you a new dress."

"No, that's not what I meant. I'm going to buy a new dress myself, and I'll make sure it is appropriate for the event, but it will be something I like. It won't be some boring black dress and I don't want to hear you complain that it's too extravagant."

"Can I pick the color?"

"Nope."

"Can I have a veto?"

"Arthur . . ."

"Fine. As long as it fits the dress code, I won't make any comment about it. But you'll have to let me pay for it."

"Not a chance."

"Abril, this is a negotiation, it has to go both ways."

"I'm perfectly capable of buying my own clothes, thank you very much."

"Darling, I'm saying this with the utmost affection for you and I don't mean to be a condescending snob: the kinds of dresses women wear at these events are worth more than your monthly salary."

He would know. He knew exactly how much I earned, down to the penny.

"I can find decent options for a couple hundred bucks. I'm an expert at spotting hidden gems in thrift shops."

His body seemed to shudder at the words 'thrift shop' and it was his turn to raise an eyebrow at me.

"You want to walk into this event with a dress that everybody in a mile's radius will be able to tell is secondhand? I know you're brave, but you're not that brave."

Touché. We had seen several times in the past how that had gone.

"Fine. I'll choose the dress, you can pay for it."

"Thank you. I'll give you my card, you should go check out the stores on Rodeo Drive."

"How Pretty Woman of me," I scoffed.

"What?"

I shook my head. "Doesn't matter."

This guy really needed a new movie education.

* * *

"Excuse me, miss?"

I jumped when a masculine voice call after me in the women's underwear section of the store.

It was not just any voice. Mr. Arthur Dullac, ladies and gentlemen. In person, in the middle of an aisle full of thongs, lacy bras, and other less conventional articles of lingerie. The red in his cheeks was adorable. I stepped over to him and gave him a quick peck on the lips. He tensed up and got redder.

"May I help you, sir?" I asked.

He cleared his throat.

"Erm . . . Yes—yes you may. Erm, please."

He was so flustered, it brought a smile to my lips.

"What can I do for you?"

"I have a fundraising gala coming up in a couple of days and I was hoping to get a bow tie for the occasion. Would you be able to assist me?"

"Sir, this is the women's lingerie section. Are you lost?"

"Don't tell anyone but I've been told the best salesperson works in this aisle."

Flattery will get you a long way, Dullac!

"Were you now? I guess I have no choice but to live up to my reputation. Please follow me."

As we went up my aisle on our way to the men's section of the store, I pointed at a very sexy, strappy, BDSM-y bodysuit displayed on a mannequin.

"You're sure I can't get you anything from here at all? Perhaps a gift for a special lady?"

I laughed as I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down, struggling to swallow.

"I have no girlfriend to gift this to, I'm afraid."

Damn! Touché, Abs.

He smirked when he saw that I was impressed, and slightly stung, by his sass. The girlfriend-boyfriend label was still a sore subject.

He followed me to the right section and we stopped in front of the immense array of regular ties and bow ties that took up an entire wall.

"What color would you like to try?"

"I was thinking of matching my date's dress, do you think you can help with that?"

"Certainly."

He fought the grimace on his face when I picked a hot pink bow tie, but to no avail. He flinched, even though the movement was subtle. I tied the piece of silk around his neck and admired my work. My work being the grumpy look on his face that he tried very hard to dissimulate, not my impeccable bow.

"It suits you very well," I commented.

"I'm sure it does."

When he forced himself to smile through the pain, I couldn't hold it any longer and burst out laughing. I untied the tie he had on and replaced it with a forest green one.

"Here. I'm told that's the color she'll be wearing."

"It's . . . much better, thank you. Although I would have worn hot pink for her."

Okay, let's all say it together: Awww!

"Well, I heard she picked this color for you. Because it would make you more comfortable, and because it goes well with your hair."

And just like that, regardless of the few customers browsing who could probably see us, Arthur put his hands on either side of my face and granted my lips with a hot fiery kiss. Well, as hot and fiery as Arthur could manage, in a public space.

* * *

The dress I had picked was a mermaid dress, fitted all the way down to my knees, where it widened and even dragged a bit behind me in a small train. It was made of dark green silk, had off-the-shoulders short sleeves, and a sweetheart neckline. I even wore elbow-length black gloves with it, upon recommendation from the woman who had sold me the dress.

I had curled my hair and put it up in an elegant, effortless-looking updo which was anything but effortless. White pearl pins adorned my hair, and a few stray tendrils framed my face. My jewelry was simple: a necklace and a pair of stud earrings, all silver and fake diamonds. This wasn't grandiose but elegant enough to not ruin such a gorgeous dress. I had gone for as 'simple' a makeup look as I could manage, with shades of silver and black. My only indulgence for color was a bright fuchsia lipstick.

I took a few minutes to admire myself in my full-length mirror. I looked amazing, like a princess, but in an elegant, mature way, like Kate Middleton, not in a pink ruffles and glitter way, like Princess Peach.

Arthur rang the doorbell right at the exact time he said he would be here to pick me up. I opened the door for him and his eyes widened when he saw me.

"Abril, you look . . . stunning."

"You seem surprised."

"No, no. I mean yes, I'm surprised, I did not expect you to choose such a . . . conventional dress. But I'm not surprised that you look stunning. You always do."

"Do I?"

"Of course you do."

"Well, you never said so."

"Really? Then I'm terribly sorry. Your outfits are not always to my taste, but I always find you beautiful."

I blushed, something I hadn't done in a while but was now doing more and more often around him. I wasn't called beautiful often. Hot, yes, when I was naked, that's a compliment I often heard. My pierced nipples had a lot to do with that. But beautiful is something that only my parents, Sigrid, and Josh had ever called me. And maybe Cedric, occasionally.

"Are you blushing? Am I dreaming?" Arthur sassed.

"Oh shut up!"

He stepped inside my apartment, grabbed my waist, and kissed me hard. In a very un-Arthur way, he even slipped a bit of tongue in.

"Are you kissing me first?" I asked when he pulled back. "Am I dreaming?"

He chuckled and placed a final kiss on my lips to shut me up.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, just let me—"

I rubbed away the pink lipstick that had transferred on his skin with my thumb and I reapplied some of the product on my lips.

I draped a faux-fur fluffy white shawl on my shoulders and took my small black purse. We walked down the stairs and Arthur held me by my elbow as I navigated the uneven floor of my parking lot with high heels.

The gala was taking place in the Hilton hotel of Beverly Hills. It was expected to be quite the display of riches, with the most delicious food to be served and the most expensive champagne to be poured.

When we arrived at the hotel, Arthur drove right up to the main entrance. He exited the car, opened my door for me and helped me out of the vehicle, then gave the keys to the valet.

He gave me his arm and I hooked mine in it, holding on to his bicep. We walked towards the International Ballroom, following the signs that had been put up for the occasion. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when we entered the room.

I was expecting luxe and grandeur, and I got served. If the one other ballroom I had ever been into was majestic in a way that it could have belonged to a European castle, that room was outstanding in a way that it belonged to another world. The dark blue carpet and the blue-white LEDs encrusted in every single bit of wall made it look like I was entering the milky way. There was a stage on one end of the room, it was lit with futuristic-looking neon lights that. The view was ethereal.

Dozens of round tables were scattered around the room, which was tiered in a way that even the people the furthest away from the stage could still see it. The white tablecloths and the silver plates and cutlery stood out nicely against the dark floor and the overall darkness of the room.

"You know," Arthur whispered in my ear, "this is the same room they use to host the Golden Globes."

"Oh wow!"

"I'm glad you appreciate it. A lot of us have become accustomed to it and it doesn't have the same effect anymore. Shall we make our way to the champagne table?"

"Yes!"

In a corner of the room, there was a long table with dozens of champagne glasses piled up in a pyramid, ready to be filled by a server perched on a stepladder, holding a gigantic bottle of bubbles. When he poured the champagne in the top glass, the liquid overflowed and trickled down into the lower levels of the pyramid, as ooohs! and aaahs! resonated from the small audience gathered in front of the table. It took three of these huge bottles to fill in every single glass in the pyramid.

When he was done pouring, the waiter locked eyes with me and offered me the top glass with a wink. Arthur cleared his throat loudly, which destabilized the poor young man and made me giggle. The server eventually gave Arthur a glass as well, which would be his only glass for the night, and we made our way to the seating chart.

I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Joy, Dullac Senior's assistant, was sitting at our table with her husband, and so was Peter, the only nice person who had attended the dinner party with Arthur's 'friends' from the company. Unfortunately, his wife, bitch Helen, was also at our table. The rest of the people at our table were strangers to me.

"Did you make it?" I asked Arthur, pointing at the seating plan.

"I didn't make the whole chart, but I did make a phone call to make sure we'd be with the few people you know at VDO's."

"That's very thoughtful of you. Thank you."

My heart of stone was this close to cracking.

"You seem surprised," he said, mocking the reaction I had had to his earlier compliment.

"Shut up," I replied with a smack on his shoulder that made him grin.

"Abby! It's so nice to see you!" Joy stood up when she saw me approaching our table. She gave me a tight hug. "I didn't know you bagged Dullac Junior, you need to tell me everything," she murmured in my ear just for me to hear.

"I'm happy to see you too, Joy," I replied, and I quietly nodded to let her know that I would tell her everything once we had a moment in private.

"Abby, what a pleasure to meet you again!" Peter welcomed me. "I thought we'd scared you off so much last time that you'd have run away from Arthur. I'm happy I was wrong."

I laughed a little. If the joke was somewhat funny, the memories of that night were not. Too soon, Peter. Too soon.

"Well, in all honesty, you almost succeeded." That made him and Arthur laugh nervously. It was never a good idea to bring up that night. "I see you brought your wife."

"April," grumbled the aforementioned wife.

"Helen," I greeted her similarly.

I wanted to make a nasty comment, either about her ugly dress or her ugly personality, but I decided that, for the sake of Arthur, I would abstain. He pulled out my chair for me and then he opened the button of his dinner jacket as he sat next to me.

His hand rested on the table and I wanted to take it. I made to do it, but the amount of people at our table made me reconsider. I didn't want to embarrass him. Just as I backed off, he took my hand in his and entwined our fingers together, right there in front of everybody.

He gave me a timid smile that caused yet another crack in my heart.

The dinner went well enough. The food was delicious, and so was the wine and the champagne. I was more than tipsy by the end of the meal. Each dish had been followed by a speech from someone important in the company. Those speeches were, unsurprisingly, the epitome of middle-aged, privileged white men, and the disgusting words they spoke kept riling me up. Tolerating that in silence had required a lot of alcohol. Arthur would be the last one to speak, taking his father's place, at the very end of the event.

When we finished the dessert, and after we suffered the speech that went with it, we were invited to stand up and make our way to the hotel bar while employees removed some of the tables and chairs to allow us to dance. I was excited about that part. Arthur, not so much.

I squeezed my way through the crowd, earning a few annoyed glances that I ignored, and reached the bar. I ordered an Espresso Martini for me and a soda water and lime for Arthur.

"We should have taken a cab here. You're missing out so much by not drinking," I told him when I handed him his non-alcoholic drink.

"I appreciate your concern, but this kind of event is only new to you. I've been to many of those, they've lost their appeal. I need to be sober for the speech anyway, and for when I'll inevitably have to take care of an intoxicated you," he added with a cheeky smile.

I didn't bother to argue, I was well on my way to being hammered.

After less than twenty minutes, we were escorted back to the room, whose lowest tier – the one closest to the stage – had been stripped clear of any tables and chairs and turned into a dance floor.

The DJ, who was supposed to be mildly famous, was already playing some catchy dance music that I recognized. I was surprised that the Dullacs had gone for a modern DJ rather than a string quartet or something. I could not wait to get onto that dance floor, even if it was empty. I pulled Arthur's arm and dragged him.

"I've only agreed to three songs, you're sure you want to cash those in now?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"But there's nobody else dancing."

"They'll come when they see us. They're just too shy to be the first ones there."

"And we're not?"

"Not for one second."

He sighed and caved. He removed his jacket and put it on the back of a chair. He was wearing dark green suspenders on his crisp white shirt. They matched his bow tie, and my dress. That was insanely cute.

We danced a lot that night. Without being an expert, Arthur could move gracefully and in tempo, and I adapted my level of dancing to his. He didn't touch me much while we danced together, but he never rejected me the few times I attempted to make physical contact.

When the third song slowly faded out and I made to go to the champagne table, he grabbed my wrist and urged me to stay on the dance floor. With him. Still dancing.

At that instant, I realized for the first time that I might not have made such a terrible decision when I'd started hanging out with him. Maybe we could truly be happy. I smiled and continued moving to the rhythm of the music, while Arthur did the exact same thing, right in front of me.

The DJ switched to a slow song and I expected Arthur to finally bail. We had already had many more songs than the original three we had agreed on, this was already a lot for him. But he didn't bail. On the contrary, he's the one who got close to me and wrapped his arms around my waist, while I slid mine around his neck. I nestled my head against his chest and let myself be rocked softly to the slow pace of the cheesy love song. The dance floor got more crowded than it had ever been since the beginning. Slow songs attracted a larger audience than modern dance music.

I was so distracted, enjoying the present moment, enjoying the warmth of Arthur's body against mine, that it took me longer than necessary to realize he had gone rigid. I looked up at him and saw nothing but rage on his face, in his usually warm, golden-brown eyes. The kind of anger only one person, except me maybe, could cause him. My blood turned to ice. When I turned around in Arthur's arms and met a pair of very light blue eyes, I almost fainted. The sheer fury in that pale glare was enough to make me jerk away from Arthur, who was just too stunned to see his father there to see my composure crumble.

"Father," he said, trying hard to hide his anger. "What are you doing here? I thought you had another commitment tonight."

Dullac Senior ignored the question and asked instead, "What is she doing here?"

"Oh, erm, you remember Abril? We are . . . kind of dating now, I guess."

"Kind of dating, huh?" Victor said, weighing his son's words but throwing daggers at me. I just wanted to disappear. This should have never happened. I should have never gone to this gala.

"So, why are you here?" Arthur asked again, impatiently.

"My other thing ended early and I figured I should stop by here and give my speech in person. It looks like I won't be needing your services anymore."

Arthur's face dropped and that snapped me out of my stupor. I was positive there was no other event and this man had just decided to be a dick at the last minute. And I had to step in and defend Arthur. I just had to.

"You haven't been here for the whole event, it makes no sense for you to give the final speech," I interjected.

I didn't know how much Arthur cared about this speech, probably not much, but it felt right for me to fight for his right to be the one giving it.

"I don't remember asking for the opinion of my son's girlfriend." The word was like acid in his mouth.

"She has a point, though," Arthur intervened. "You sent your apologies for this dinner, it will only confuse people if you give the closing speech."

"When you own a company, you'll give all the speeches you want."

My not-boyfriend's teeth clenched. He would just suck it up, he could not afford to speak out. This made my heart hurt. I couldn't take seeing Victor being so mean to his son. I couldn't take seeing Victor at all. The gravity of what we had done came crushing me all at once. I needed air. Better, I needed water. Anything. I just needed to get out of this room.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to use the restroom," I said to no-one in particular.

I fled the scene without looking back and almost ran to the bathroom. All the stalls were empty. Good. I let out a frustrated scream. How was I going to get out of there?

I opened the tap and drank some water straight from the faucet. The encounter with Dullac Senior had sobered me up quite efficiently but the cold liquid going down my throat did a more thorough job. It still wasn't enough, though. I gathered some water in my hand and dabbed it on the back of my neck, and on the inside of my elbows. I needed to cool down.

"Care to explain yourself?" Someone behind me thundered.

The bastard had managed to sneak into the bathroom without me hearing. I didn't need to look up in the mirror to know that it was Victor. Yet I looked up anyway and met his furious glare. And God did I hate that this glare made me feel weak in the knees in ways Arthur had never been able to.

Arthur was the calm water that tamed my fire. Victor was the spark that made it burn brighter. Water was what I needed ninety percent of the time. I needed stability, security, and predictability. But there were ten percent of me that were screaming, demanding the spark.

It was no secret that Arthur was very tame in bed. What he lacked in confidence and passion, he made up for it in respect and care. Still though, there were times I dreamed of his hand closing around my neck or his dick furiously pounding my ass, while knowing it would never happen.

For that reason, seeing Victor, even though it made me furious, and sad for Arthur, and terrified that he would out us, made me want to jump his bones real bad. The libido I had kept under control for so long was aggressively shaking the bars of its cage, demanding to be let free.

"Look at you," he said while taking a step closer towards me.

"What?" I said to his reflection in the mirror.

"You're looking at me like I'm your next meal."

"No, I'm not," I lied.

"What the hell are you doing with my son? Is that your wicked way of coming back at me for . . . for I don't even know what! Is that it? Is that just all a game to you? It's a family you're messing with!"

"It's funny how you're leaving out your own responsibility in messing with that family."

"So I'm right? It's just a game?"

Another step. I turned around and addressed him directly instead of addressing his reflection.

"Of course not! I like Arthur. Very much so."

"Then why are you lusting so badly after me right now?"

"I'm not." Another lie. Victor was excruciatingly hot that night.

"He doesn't have what it takes to be with you, does he? I know my son, he's too soft for you. It was him in your bed that time I came to your place, wasn't it?"

I didn't reply, for I was afraid that I would agree with him. Arthur was soft. And Victor was anything but.

Victor took another step. He was very close to me. Too close.

He put his hands on my waist. They were holding on to me tightly, claiming me almost, in a way that I should have abhorred, but made the stupid part of my brain go wild. I didn't reject him.

And what was meant to happen from the second Victor had entered the room happened. He bent over at the neck and placed his lips on mine.

As soon as the contact was made, the guilt consumed me. It was wrong. Terribly wrong. Like, going to Hell kind of wrong, if I believed in such things. But it wasn't just that. Those lips, although skilled and delicious, were not the ones I wanted. Yes, Arthur's were clumsy and hesitant, but they felt familiar. They were mine. I didn't want skilled, I wanted familiar, and sweet, and soft.

It took me one second to realize that I actually had no desire to kiss Victor Dullac. It took me one second to put my hands on his shoulders and push him away from me. And one second is all it took for Arthur to open the bathroom door on us and find me kissing his father.

The look on his face would forever be imprinted in my mind. A mixture of mind-shattering shock, disgust, incomprehension, and pure, unadulterated fury. He went unnaturally still for a second, his eyes sweeping between the two of us. He didn't say a word and bolted out of there.

"Shit!" Both Victor and I muttered before running after Arthur.

He wasn't hard to find, walking straight to the exit like he was on a mission. Victor picked up the pace and left me behind. He put his hand on his shoulder. Arthur violently shrugged him off.

"Let's not make a scene and let's go talk about this in private," Victor said when I reached them. Arthur did not even acknowledge my presence but tilted his head towards the DJ cabin, located next to the stage.

We made a beeline for the small, soundproofed room.

"You. Out," Victor told the DJ who didn't need to be asked twice.

He pulled down the blinds on the windows that overlooked the stage and he locked the door. The festivities could begin.

"What—What on Earth was that?" Arthur yelled first. "You," he pointed at his father, "with you?" He pointed at me. "How could this happen? This is disgusting! This is sick!"

I looked down. He wasn't wrong.

"Watch your tone!" Victor thundered. "I'm still your father and you owe me respect."

Arthur had no violent bone in his body. He had a known penchant for condescension and for starting ridiculous arguments, but he was not a physical person. That's why I was utterly floored when he grabbed his father by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the door. I had the feeling that Victor was purposely not showing any resistance, but still, it was impressive.

"My father? My father? What kind of father steals their son's girlfriend?"

Arthur's words were high-pitched and frantic. I couldn't blame him, the situation was one of a kind.

"Careful, Arthur," Victor said in a threatening voice that could not mean anything good.

"Or what? You're going to make my life a living hell? You've already taken care of that!"

It was obvious that, with those words, Arthur did not only mean his father kissing his date at the company's gala.

"It's not like we deliberately went behind your back to hurt you, okay? It just happened. And we only slipped up once," Victor attempted to give an explanation. It was weak.

"'Slipped up'? Is that how you're calling it? Is that how you're going to justify it to Mother? You know, the person you're still married to. Does she know that you're messing around with women half your age? What will she think about this?"

"Leave your mother out of this. I'm sure you know very well that she is no innocent white swan in this marriage."

Indeed, Arthur had mentioned how he knew that his mom was unfaithful.

"She's still your wife! The mother of your kids. You owe her more respect than that!"

I hated everything I saw in the icy blue eyes of Victor Dullac after Arthur had said that.

"Let me worry about my wife and make sure to worry about yours," he said in a tone that sent a chill right through my bones.

Then it hit me.

Excuse me, what?

I gasped loudly. Theatrically loudly. Both Dullac men turned their heads towards me. Arthur slowly released Victor and looked at me with a pained look that I'm sure was the mirror image of mine.

"Are you—Are you married?" I asked in a quiet, calm voice that I did not recognize.

He did not reply and bowed his head. This was just as good as a confession. But I needed to hear the words.

"Arthur!" I screamed in despair.  "Are you fucking married?" Gone was the calm and quiet.

"Yes," he confessed without looking at me.

It's like the hellhole I had created by kissing Victor had just become ten times bigger. How could that be happening? I thought I was quite the nutcase already, I had never thought there could be people even worse than I was.

How could Arthur be married? It went against all common sense. He was not the type to commit adultery, his father was. And yet . . . Again with the apple and the tree.

So the infamous ex who had been his one and only partner was not even an ex after all. Who was this woman? Did she know her husband was being an unfaithful piece of crap? And that the woman he was being a piece of crap with was also a piece of crap? Did she know the extent of the disaster that her life was?

A few distant memories then resurfaced all at once. Suddenly, I knew who that woman was. I had known all along and had somehow forgotten about it. There had been so many freaking signs.

I was going to be sick.

"But we're in—" Arthur started but I cut him off.

"Is it Eleanor?"

Eleanor, as in 'owner of Eleanart' Eleanor, as in 'my bitch boss' Eleanor. It had to be. Everything made so much sense. I had guessed right when we met that he'd been involved with her. And there had been several instances of his shitty and less shitty friends making weird faces when they had found out about where I worked.

"Are you married to fucking Eleanor?" I asked Arthur again when he didn't reply.

He slowly nodded.

I didn't listen to the words that started blubbering out of his mouth and left the DJ cabin. I picked up my purse and my shawl from the ballroom and made my way to the main entrance.

Arthur, who had come after me, grabbed my wrist to keep me from ordering an Uber home on my phone.

"I'll drive you home," he stated, like I had no choice in the matter. Like his words were law and I didn't have a say.

"No."

"That was not a question."

"Do you really want to make a scene? I'm not above screaming for help."

"You think that scares me? I let you go home on your own once and I swore to myself that I would never make the same mistake again. I will throw you over my shoulder if I have to, and we will cause a scene if that's what it takes. But I'm driving you home. And if you've got just one ounce of affection for me in you, you'll come with me without causing trouble."

I didn't have it in me to say no to that, no matter how hurt I was, nor how badly I had fucked up.

We impatiently waited for the valet to bring the car back. When he did, Arthur went straight to the driver side and entered the vehicle. He was done opening doors for me. I climbed in docilely and he rushed out of Beverly Hills.

The trip back to my home was fast, yet agonizingly slow. The silence in the car was thicker than oil. I was relieved when I saw the familiar shape of my building coming into view. Once in the parking lot, Arthur turned off the ignition and turned towards me.

"For what it's worth, I've been separated from my wife for nearly two years now. We're in the middle of a divorce, I just haven't had time to get to it yet."

That was . . . oddly comforting, although that wasn't enough to justify his hiding his marital status from me. I had very little tolerance for lies, even lies by omission.

Still, though, it felt like this nightmare could have an exit door. Maybe we could work through this? I had done fucked-up stuff, he had done fucked-up stuff. I was furious, he was furious. We were even. We could work this out. With time, and when the anger didn't run that high.

"For what it's worth—"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Arthur cut me off. "What you did is disgusting and there's no circumstance that can make it okay. Of all the people you could have cheated on me with, you went for my father. My father! You know how bad our relationship is. You knew that it would hurt me the most. And yet you went for it. Not to mention that the age gap is sickening. He could be your own father!"

I swallowed hard. He was being unnecessarily rude, but I guess he was entitled to it. For once, I would suck it up and accept the insult. We could talk this off.

"Cari, I—"

"Don't you dare 'cari' me. I want you to get out of my car, and out of my life. I do not want to see you ever again."

My imaginary exit door closed as fast as it had opened. I didn't argue and got out of the car. Arthur didn't wait for me to enter the lobby of my building before driving away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A/N: Oops, sorry for the delay. I got very busy yesterday and did not have time to post.

What do we think of this chapter? It's quite a doozy, isn't it? You'll notice that, for once, the Friday (well Saturday) chapter is not on the past timeline. I hope you appreciate it, as I know you're not nearly as invested in Josh's timeline as I am.

Next chapter on Monday, please vote and comment.

Love,
Charlie.