Page 17 of The Accidental Wife

Cole

I wishI had the option just to hit pause and stay in this moment for a little while longer. I let my eyes roam over Shayla’s face, her eyes closed, soft lips faintly parted just begging to be kissed, but I know that’s not what she needs right now, and If I tried, she would probably punch me. When a knock sounds on my door, Shayla’s eyes flicker open, she looks up at me and quickly pulls herself away, putting a couple of feet between us. Her gaze drops to the floor, and I would give my left nut to be able to read her mind. Was she waiting for me to kiss her? I wonder if she felt as disappointed as I did when she pulled away?

“Tristan?” I look over at Lucy— my publicist— when she pokes her head through the door. I wave her in. “I’ve just seen the article. My phone hasn’t stopped ringing.” She says, walking toward us.

“How do we fix this?” I ask her, and she sets the tablet in her hand on my desk and sighs.

She looks over at Shayla and back at me again. “I need you to tell me how you want me to spin this Tristan. In the interview you had a couple of weeks ago, you told them you were enjoying being single and not looking to settle down anytime soon, and now you’re suddenly married. There is a lot of speculation out there that doesn’t make either of you look good.” Lucy explains. Shayla looks at me and a worried look descends upon her face.

“What does that mean?”

Lucy sighs, “They’re speculating that you got pregnant, and that’s why Tristan married you in such a rush.”

“What?” Shayla and I say at the same time.

“That’s not true at all. I’m not pregnant.” She declares stonily, and Lucy nods and looks over at me. “We were just—”

I wrap my arm around Shayla’s shoulder and draw her close to me. “—In love. I wanted her out of the public eye for as long as possible; we didn’t want a big fuss with a wedding, so we eloped. That’s it.”

“Tristan, this article can hurt your reputation as an esteemed businessman. You’ve continually said that your loyalty and integrity toward your clients played a major factor in your success as an architect. If they suspect anything otherwise, this will tarnish that reputation, and investors might start to pull out if they suspect you’re irresponsible. So, we need to act fast, and the public must see that this marriage is legit and you two genuinely are in love with one another. Your supporters can be a little excessive, as you are well aware.” I roll my eyes and nod. Excessive isn’t the word I’d use for sending used underwear to my apartment or breaking in and waiting naked in my car. That’s downright psychotic.

I look down at Shayla, and she lifts her gaze to meet mine, “I don’t care what they say about me, but you protect Shayla and her privacy at all cost.” I declare and look over at Lucy again. “You hear me? One thing reported out of context, and I will hold you personally responsible.” She nods and picks up her tablet before walking out of my office.

Shayla pulls away from me and leans against my desk. “Cole, this is insane. This whole thing is getting out of hand. We’ve gone from only lying to our parents to the whole damn world. You heard her, if they figure out that we’re lying, it will hurt your career, and I’m going to lose my family.” I move closer to her and shake my head.

“No one will figure out anything if we both play our part. We’ll stay married a while until this all blows over, then we’ll get divorced quietly.” I explain and she exhales, closing her eyes.

“Cole, I can’t lie to save my life.” She admits sorrowfully, lowering her head. I smile. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose everything.” My smile fell as quickly as it appeared.

I take her face into my hands and lift her gaze to mine. “And I don’t want to be the reason you lose yours. We’ll figure this out together as we go, okay?” I assure her, and she nods in response. “But first, we need to get through this presentation, so please be a good little wife and get your husband a coffee.” I tease to lighten the mood, and she glares at me unamused.

“Cole...”

I chuckle and shrug, “What? Get used to me calling you that. You’ll be hearing it a lot more sweetheart.”

Shayla rolls her eyes exasperated and straightens from leaning against my desk. She strolls over to me and fixes me with a sultry look, and I feel all the blood in my brain rush down to my cock. “You might want to stop annoying me, Mr Hoult, because I notice people love to talk in this place. How unfortunate would it be if someone starts telling people you can’t—oh I don’t know, perform well in the bedroom.”

I look down into her upturned face and step closer. “You can certainly try. They will not believe you though.” I speak softly as I slowly lean in closer.

“Oh?” She replies, narrowing her eyes challengingly, “And what makes you so sure?”

I deliberately lick my lips and smirk as I back her up toward my desk; her step falters so I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her against me. “It’s clear you know nothing about me or my past, sweetheart. My reputation speaks for itself. I recommend you do your homework.” I brush a strand of her hair away from her face and stare into her eyes. “I don’t recall hearing you complain about my performance that night.” I lick my lips slowly, “In fact, it’s quite the opposite. You were pretty darn vocal while you were coming wildly, squeezing and milking my cock.”

Her lips part, and she stares at me before her eyes narrow, “Maybe I’m just good at faking it.” She responds, pulling her face away from my hand.

I look over her face and grin, “You’re right,” I tilt her head up so our lips are aligned perfectly. “You can’t lie for shit,” I whisper and drop a kiss on her cheek, and she pulls away again.

“What are you doing, Cole?” I pull my head back and grin.

“Playing my part,” I say and step away from her. She frowns, and I gesture with my head to the crowd of employees that just watched our entire exchange. “It seems I was too into fondling my wife that I hadn’t noticed I ‘accidentally’ unfrosted the glass.” She looks around and swallows hard before she turns her stony gaze to me.

“Oh, you son of a—,” I wink at her and walk around my desk.

“Ah, ah, ah, you love me, remember?” She huffs, spins on her heels, and walks off toward the door. “Don’t forget my coffee.”

I hear her mutter profanities under her breath as she stalks off, and I watch her disappear out of sight. Ten minutes later, she comes back with a coffee and bagel, sets it on my desk and turns to leave.

“Shayla?”

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