I Was The Wrong Girl In His Bed For Three Years Chapter 02

I Was The Wrong Girl In His Bed For Three Years Chapter 02

But by the time I got to the office, it was already too late.

I spotted Graham the second I walked through the revolving doors.

Black suit. That cold, detached look he always wore. He was stepping out of the elevator with Sloane right beside him.

Sloane was in a white blazer, hair swept up, a stack of project files tucked against her chest.

He was in black. She was in white.

He looked untouchable. She looked like she belonged next to him.

Together, they looked like a photo I wasn’t supposed to see.

Sloane leaned in and said something to him.

Graham glanced down at her, and his pace slowed to match hers.

He never slowed down for anyone.

[OMG, the height difference alone. I’m already shipping them.]

[Sloane is finally back. A smart, independent career woman and a cold billionaire CEO? That’s the real power couple right there.]

[Unlike a certain clingy trophy wife whose whole personality is delivering lunch and checking up on her husband. Girl can’t function without a man.]

[She better not go over there. Don’t ruin their moment. That would be SO cringe.]

[She’s not about to pull the “I’m his wife” card on Sloane, is she? Girl, you STOLE that marriage. You don’t get to claim him.]

I stepped back before anyone could see me.

The lunch bag dangled from my fingers. It had never felt this heavy.

Graham already had company for lunch.

What did he need me for?

I ducked my head and turned to leave, but then someone called my name.

“Maren?”

I turned around.

My cousin Wesley Calder was standing there, an intern badge clipped to his shirt.

His eyes went from me to the lunch bag in my hand, and his whole face lit up.

“Maren, what are you doing here? Wait, did you bring me lunch?”

He’d been over the moon ever since he landed this internship.

I’d never told him I was married to his boss. I didn’t want it getting in the way of his internship.

I made myself smile.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been working so hard. Figured you could use a home-cooked meal.”

Wesley grabbed the bag like I’d just handed him the winning lottery ticket.

“Wait, seriously? I thought you only ever cooked for your husband.”

That stung. I gave his shoulder a shove, keeping my voice light.

“Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it. I’m starving. Thanks, Maren!”

He took the bag and threw his arms around me.

“You’re the best, Maren. You know that, right?”