Chapter 4

"Find it a bit too noisy out here? Let's go to my office for a drink."

Valerie suggested softly. After speaking, her eyes actually darted away nervously, and a faint blush seemed to brush across her pale cheeks. It appeared that this high-and-mighty Vice President's wife was still a very raw amateur when it came to the art of having an affair.

I broke away from the tour group and quietly followed behind Valerie. Staring at her perfectly round hips constrained by the tight pencil skirt, and her straight, toned calves beneath the hemline, an intense, primal desire to conquer erupted like a volcano. I felt an overwhelming urge to throw caution to the wind, pin her against the wall, and kiss her.

As for Chloe? In that exact second, I had completely banished the timid, suburban housewife to the back of my mind.

Her office was located on the top floor of the broadcasting tower—the 31st floor. Exiting the elevator, we walked down a long corridor lined with thick carpeting, the only sound the sharp click of her heels. She walked ahead of me in total silence.

Arriving at the corner suite at the end of the hall, she pulled a keycard and a backup key from her Hermès bag. I sharply noticed that her hands were trembling slightly. The clink-clank of the metal hardware betrayed her nerves; it took her several tries just to align the card with the sensor.

I had felt a bit like a thief myself, but seeing someone of her high status acting so flustered completely relaxed me.

This was a space built entirely by power. The minimalist executive desk was completely spotless. Through the massive, panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, the entire concrete jungle of the city was laid out in full view. Looking down at skyscrapers dozens of stories high inevitably breeds an exhilarating vanity of standing above it all.

"What would you like to drink? An Americano, or maybe sparkling water?" Valerie asked, turning her back to me to walk toward a built-in refrigerator.

I sank casually into the Italian calfskin guest chair and replied easily, "Do you have an ice-cold Coke?"

"Coke..." She turned around, looking a bit awkward as she rubbed her palms together. "I don't usually keep carbonated drinks stocked. How about you wait a moment, and I'll have my assistant run downstairs to grab a few..."

Watching her flustered, eager-to-please demeanor—one she was trying desperately to hide—I smiled and cut her off. "Don't bother. Just grab whatever, I'm not picky."

Valerie eventually pulled out a bottle of organic, cold-pressed juice, placed it on the glass coffee table in front of me, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Juice is healthier than Coke. That stuff is just empty calories; it’s bad for your cardiovascular system."

However, in the exact fraction of a second she prepared to pull her hand back, I struck with lethal precision. I grabbed her wrist tightly and gave a violent yank, pulling her directly between my parted legs.

Her hand was as white as premium mutton-fat jade, her fingers slender. But I instantly felt how ice-cold her skin was; her palm was even damp with nervous, cold sweat.

I didn't let go. Instead, I used my thumb to gently caress her skin, lowering my voice to a soft, intimate register. "Why is your hand as cold as ice? Are you anemic?"

Valerie's face turned completely red. Her expression revealed a kind of shyness that was terrifyingly out of place with her status. She avoided my highly aggressive gaze, explaining in a low whisper:

"It's not anemia. My private doctor said it's poor blood circulation caused during childbirth. I've seen countless doctors and taken plenty of supplements, but nothing has really helped."

Even though she was standing right in front of me, it was as if all her strength to resist had been drained. She allowed me to play with her hand. Turning the tables slightly, she used her cool fingertips to lightly scratch the back of my hand. Leaning her voluptuous body against the edge of the office desk, she used her free hand to fiddle with the juice bottle, continuing:

"A friend told me this condition is very hard to cure completely. Unless... unless I were to have another baby. Using pregnancy hormones to force the body into a hard reset. That's the only way it might actually be cured."

This normally aloof, glamorous, married woman was currently acting like a high school girl experiencing her first crush. She was so bashful she didn't even dare look me in the eye.

I knew the temperature was exactly right.

I forcefully yanked backward. Caught entirely off guard, Valerie let out a startled cry, tumbling completely into my arms and landing squarely astride my thighs. That voluptuous, incredibly full, and shockingly elastic sensation instantly swallowed every last shred of my sanity. Holding nothing back, I clamped my hands around her impossibly narrow waist, locking her securely in my embrace.