Page 9 of The Wife Situation

“Who is thisthey? Because they don’t know what they’re talking about. Also, isn’t heold?” I cross my arms over my chest.

Keeping up with billionaires hasneverbeen my thing unless they’re fictional. I’m sure a quick internet search would give me more information than I want.

“I think he’s thirty-nine. That’s only ten years older than yo?—”

“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupt, holding up my hand before dropping it back to my side.

I won’t even entertain this idea. It’s ridiculous. A stupid fairy tale, a fantasy. But I know when I looked into his blue eyes, I felt a shift. Something happened before it turned into a horrible disaster. And I don’t want to admit that to anyone, not even myself.

“It will work out,” she urges. “It always does.”

“Yeah, maybe he’ll forget it,” I tell Carlee, trying to reason with logic. “Who knows? It could be my lucky day. He was going to let me leave.”

“Alexis Matthews.”

I freeze when I recognize myboss’svoice. As my eyes slam shut, I wish I could disappear and wake up from this nightmare. Carlee’s smile falters, and she tenses. My back is to him, so he can’t see my reaction, thankfully, because shit just gotveryserious.

“To my office, please,” he snaps.

“I’m fucked,” I mutter, my heart rate galloping in my chest. “So entirely fucked.”

“Explain your truth,” she whispers as I turn and follow Mr. Martin to his dungeon.

I stare at the back of his black, perfectly pressed suit. There’s not a wrinkle or a piece of loose lint in sight. He exudes excellence and luxury, everything the W represents. Everything I’m not.

When I step inside the cold room, I’m asked to sit. His desk has a hand-carved W in the front, along with the hotel crest. The same one that’s embroidered into my uniform.

“Do you know why I’ve called you into my office?” He interlocks his fingers and stares me down.

He’s stern, but I guess when you’re forced to kiss the feet of rich people all day, it wears a person down to this.

I calmly exhale. “Yes, sir. I can expla?—”

“Ms. Matthews.”

“Lexi,” I correct.

“Mr. Calloway stated you were in his quarters and had taken his watch. Did you?”

“It was an accident.”

He tilts his head.

“I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth. I didn’t know he’d arrived early, and I thought it was left behind. I planned to turn it into lost and found.”

“But you didn’t,” he says. “You went back to the Tower Penthouse instead.”

“Yes,” I whisper, knowing I shouldn’t have done that. There’s only one punishment for a thief—even though I’m not one—so I prepare myself for the inevitable.

“I don’t understand. When you returned, did you know he was in his room?”

This question catches me off guard.

“I did.” It’s the truth. I have no reason to lie about that. He stunned me stupid.

“But you still entered when all employees have been notified not to enter the Tower while he’s on-site.”

“Yes,” I admit, knowing now that it’s not the watch that’s getting me fired, but my inability to follow company policy.

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