My Husband's Secretary Wore My Dress

Vivian

"Baby, spread your legs a little more—"

I moaned, feeling Caden's burning breath against my neck, every syllable pressed tightly against my ear. His voice traveled downward, his breath slowly moving from my chest to my lower abdomen, making me arch my back involuntarily.

The moment that warm sensation hit, I couldn't help but cry out. "Oh! Caden! This is amazing..."

I could feel his burning hardness below, his desire for me, which also made me soaking wet.

He was breathing heavily, his hand moving to my waist. "Baby, do you like it? Say you want it."

My whole body had gone completely soft, gazing hazily at his blurred silhouette. "I... want you... inside..."

After I said that, Caden let out a low growl and thrust in fiercely. We both let out satisfied sighs simultaneously.

"Fuck, baby, you're so tight and wet..." Caden leaned down, suddenly thrusting his hips, penetrating completely to the deepest point. The intense stimulation made me scream out again.

"Caden, slower..." I could barely handle Caden's fierce assault, my whole body going limp in his arms, my legs wrapped tightly around his constantly moving waist.

"Slower?" Caden smiled ambiguously as he traced my cheek with his fingertip, his movements below slowing slightly, which made me writhe restlessly. Seeing this, Caden smiled pleasantly. "Why are you squeezing me even tighter, hmm?"

He turned my flushed face and kissed me deeply. "Admit it, baby, you love being fucked by me like this..."

I responded passively, feeling the man above me moving faster and faster, the intense pleasure making my mind go completely blank. When the climax came, I could no longer bear it, screaming as I hugged the broad back of the man above me, my fingertips digging deep into his skin.

My toes curled, consciousness gradually drifting away, letting my body be stirred into complete chaos...

I suddenly opened my eyes and sat up abruptly, like I had just rushed up from ten meters underwater. My heart was pounding thunderously in my chest, silk sheets tangled around my legs, while the other half of the big bed was empty.

Of course it was empty.

Caden Lux—Manhattan's most unattainable, officially certified ice-cold CEO—and also my arranged marriage husband. He had countless meetings to attend every day, and recently he'd been home even less frequently.

I felt the lingering warmth on my cheek with the back of my hand. The Caden in my dream just now had such a low, husky voice, completely different from his business tone that could make people's hair stand on end in board meetings in real life.

In reality, when Caden spoke, it was either to instruct his assistant to reschedule appointments, or to very politely remind me "don't wait for dinner tonight." But the Caden Lux in my dreams would put his lips to my ear, saying things that made my entire nervous system crash on the spot, those hands—those well-defined hands with callused knuckles—gripping my waist with almost excessive force.

And the me in the dream, God bless, liked it.

"Vivian," I murmured to the empty penthouse duplex, "you're really done for."

I buried my face in both hands, pausing for a full minute, trying to get my heartbeat back to a normal human frequency. It was already bright outside, sunlight hitting the empty big bed, everything around as quiet as if it were a conference room.

No wonder. Caden and I hadn't shared a bed for almost two months now, so having such dreams was quite normal.

Just as I had suppressed that shameful flutter in my heart, my phone on the nightstand buzzed. I picked it up and immediately frowned tightly.

[Miss Vivian, we're discussing a deal at Blackstone Club tonight and might have some drinks. Could you please pick up Caden tonight?]

It was from Caden's personal secretary, Camille Reed. The woman who wore low-cut, tight, body-hugging skirts during work hours and pressed her chest tightly against Caden. When she saw me, she would curl her bright red lips, smiling at me while moving even closer to Caden.

I stared at this text for a while. Then I turned the phone over, got up, and went to make sobering soup.

As Vivian Holloway, Caden Lux's wife, daughter-in-law of a top wealthy family in New York, handling these strange things was like attending charity galas or enduring meaningful glances at socialite gatherings—it had long been standard for this position, after all, there were many people eyeing this position.

So I had long learned not to blink.

Besides, I had planned to find him today anyway. Because today was our third wedding anniversary.

Caden had sent me a text last night instead of calling—which actually made me feel uncomfortable, as if it erected a thick barrier between us.

[Working overtime tomorrow, don't wait for me.]

I read that text three times, then locked my phone screen, confirming the message it wanted to convey: yes, our wedding anniversary had once again become a casualty of Lux Group's fourth-quarter financial statements.

But Caden wasn't like this before. Although he had always been strong and decisive with outsiders, always wearing that cold expression. But in the early days when we knew each other, when he came to Lincoln Center to watch me perform "Swan Lake," the way he looked at me was like a gentle whirlpool that almost drowned me.

After our dates, when we went to some terrace to blow in the cold wind, he would silently drape his coat over my shoulders, and when he saw my teasing gaze, he would unconsciously look away, his ears turning red.

Then Camille Reed came back from Paris.

Camille, who had lived in the same villa district as the Lux family since childhood, that Camille who called him "Caden" with a special breathy voice. Three years ago, the moment she gently landed in Manhattan, she almost took everything away from me. Camille effortlessly entered his executive suite, got a job and Caden's gentle gaze.

Since then, the Caden who would drape his coat over my shoulders quietly disappeared. And the version I have now is cold, distant, occasionally looking at me with the eyes of someone viewing an unfinished obligation, making my stomach clench.

But he really was a workaholic, something the entire New York financial circle could attest to. He slept four hours a day and could hold meetings for three subsidiaries before breakfast. So I always thought he was just under pressure, just too busy, these were the responsibilities he had to bear.

At nine o'clock in the evening, I had already skillfully prepared the sobering soup—I started learning to make it after I first discovered Caden would have stomach pain all night after business dinners.

It was a classic beef bone broth base, and I added some extra potatoes, which were Caden's favorite.

Before packing it, I tasted it first. Very good, Vivian, Caden will definitely love the taste this time.

Before leaving, I simply pinned my hair up in a bun in front of the mirror. I packed the sobering soup and placed it in the passenger seat, started the engine, and the car slowly drove into the pitch-black night.

Blackstone Club was a high-end club owned by the Lux family. I rarely set foot here; usually Camille would directly drive Caden home.

"Miss, please show your pass." After I parked and stepped onto the stone steps, just as I was about to push open the door, I was stopped by the attendant at the entrance. He looked me up and down, seeing my bare neck and wrists, especially when he saw the thermos in my hand, his gaze showed some contempt.

I didn't speak, opened my bag, took out the black card that symbolized prestigious status, and handed it over.

The attendant's pupils suddenly contracted when he saw the black card. His fingers trembled slightly as he took it, and after confirming the name on it, he frantically bowed to me. "I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Lux! Please come this way." He led me to a private elevator.

This kind of thing happened occasionally. First, I didn't often participate in matters related to Caden's work, so even people from Lux Group rarely recognized me; second, I didn't like luxurious accessories and preferred simple, plain colors.

I went up to the top floor, carrying the thermos, with an inexplicable anticipation in my chest.

The hallway was pitch black. I gripped the handle tightly, the surroundings so quiet I could only hear my gradually quickening heartbeat. Weren't they supposed to be working overtime discussing a deal? At this time, there should reasonably be quite a few people.

But the entire hallway only had that door at the very end with a faint light coming through, and vague sounds were coming from the hallway that didn't sound much like work discussions. I felt something plummeting rapidly in my chest.

I took two more steps forward and could see that door was ajar, and the sounds became clearer.

"Oh no... Caden..."

I suddenly felt a bit unsteady, my fingers bracing against the wall. Calm down, Vivian, maybe it's just entertainment after closing a deal, you know, Vivian, they need to relax too.

I steadied myself and was about to knock first, but inexplicably, I placed my hand on the door and let my gaze fall through the crack first.

Caden was sitting on the sofa with his back to the door, his suit jacket nowhere to be seen, his shirt somewhat disheveled. There was the smell of alcohol in the air, and the dim lighting was extremely ambiguous. The entire room had only him—and Camille.

The moment I saw her, my blood almost instantly froze, and my vision blurred. My fingers unconsciously clenched, trembling as I pushed the door open a bit more.

Camille was in what could be called an artistic pose, nearly half-naked, straddling his legs—her shirt completely unbuttoned, hanging loosely on her shoulders, revealing the black sexy lingerie underneath. From Caden's angle, all he could see was a large expanse of snow-white skin. Her face was flushed, her fingers intimately drawing circles on Caden's collarbone, her whole body pressed against him without any gap. And Caden had his head lowered, his lips ambiguously brushing past Camille's earlobe.

Camille probably heard some subtle movement, slightly turned her head, and over Caden's broad shoulder, precisely met my gaze. But she didn't panic. There wasn't a trace of panic in her eyes, nor any shame, but rather obvious provocation.

She slowly curved her already smudged lips and smiled at me. Then, she raised her hand and silently waved at me.

"Oh, Vivian. It's not what you think—but next time, could you knock before coming in?"

"Bang—!"

The thermos fell from my hands, smashing on the marble floor. The lid popped open, and the sobering soup I had personally stewed mixed with porcelain shards, shattering violently in the hallway with a sharp sound.

I tried hard to suppress the trembling of my body. Vivian, you are Mrs. Lux, you must always maintain elegance.

I squeezed out a syllable from my throat that even I couldn't understand, stiffly turned and left. Even though my brain had gone completely blank.