Chapter 3: Playing Games
Natalie's POV
I'm waking up later than usual. Last night's wine is catching up with me—my head's pounding.
By the time I make it downstairs, it's almost ten. Adrian should be at the office by now.
But he's sitting on the living room couch, staring at his phone with this smile I rarely see. Soft. Real.
My stomach drops.
"Morning," I say.
The smile vanishes. "Morning. Thought you were still sleeping. Left coffee in the kitchen."
"Thanks."
Walking past him, I catch the name on his screen.
Sophia.
My hand shakes as I grab the coffee mug.
"Not going to the office?" I keep my voice casual.
"Meeting this afternoon. Working from home this morning."
His phone buzzes again. I see the message before he tilts the screen away: "Looking forward to our lunch next week."
They're having lunch together.
I head upstairs before he can see my face.
In my room, I grab my phone and text Marcus.
"Free next Wednesday? Need you for lunch."
He replies instantly: "Always. What's the occasion?"
"Revenge."
"I'm in."
Wednesday afternoon, I'm walking into Le Bernardin with Marcus on my arm. I asked Adrian's secretary which restaurant they'd be at—she's sweet, always happy to help.
I'm in a white dress that clings everywhere. Marcus is in one of his signature colorful suits.
"So what's the plan?" he asks.
"Watch and learn."
Our table has a perfect view of Adrian's booth. Minutes later, Adrian and Sophia arrive. She's in beige—elegant, boring, perfect. They're laughing like old friends.
My hand clenches around the napkin.
"Breathe," Marcus whispers. "You look homicidal."
"I feel homicidal."
"Well, save it." He picks up the menu. "Now tell me everything."
I tell him. The contract. What I overheard. Sophia. All of it.
"Oh honey," he sighs. "You're in love with him."
"I'm not—"
"Don't lie to yourself. You love him, and you think he's leaving you for that beige woman over there."
I can't argue.
"So let's remind him what he's losing," Marcus grins.
For the next twenty minutes, Marcus puts on a show. Making me laugh, telling jokes, feeding me bites of food like we're on a date.
"Open up," he holds a fork to my lips.
I eat it, trying to look enchanted.
That's when Adrian looks over. His expression goes dark.
"He's watching," Marcus murmurs. "And he's pissed."
"Good."
Except my heart's racing because Adrian stands up, says something to Sophia, and walks straight toward us.
"Natalie." His voice is ice.
I look up, faking surprise. "Adrian? You're here?"
"Obviously." His eyes cut to Marcus. "You gonna introduce me to your friend?"
Friend sounds like an insult.
"This is Marcus. Marcus, my husband Adrian."
"Nice to meet you." Marcus extends his hand.
Adrian shakes it like it's contaminated, then pulls out a chair and sits down.
Next to me.
"Adrian, your lunch—"
"Can wait." His arm slides around my waist. "I want to meet my wife's friend."
He's never said it like that before—possessive, dangerous.
"So Marcus, how long have you known Natalie?"
"Five years. We're very close."
Adrian's grip tightens at "close."
"Funny. She's never mentioned you."
"We met before she got married," Marcus says smoothly.
Implying: I was here first.
Adrian's jaw clenches. I can feel the jealousy radiating off him.
"Adrian." Sophia appears behind us. "The food—"
"I'm eating here," he says without looking at her. "We'll reschedule."
"But—"
"Marcus," Adrian continues, ignoring Sophia completely, "since you're such a close friend, you know she's married?"
"Of course. But married people can have friends."
"Not this kind." Adrian's fingers lace through mine. "This crosses a line."
My heart's about to burst.
Marcus stands, grinning. "I see how it is. Natalie darling, call me later." He winks and leaves.
Traitor.
Sophia's still standing there, face tight. "I'll go then. See you, Natalie."
After she leaves, Adrian turns to me.
"Explain."
"Explain what?"
"Marcus."
"I told you. A friend."
"What kind of friend?"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't play games with me, Natalie."
I yank my hand back. "Then what about you and Sophia?"
He freezes. "What?"
"You're having lunch with her, laughing together—did you ever ask how I felt about that?"
"Natalie—"
"I have one lunch with a friend and you interrogate me, but you and Sophia—"
He stands, grabbing my wrist and pulling me toward him.
"Jealous?" His voice is low, dangerous.
"No—"
"You are." His mouth curves. "You're jealous."
I want to deny it but can't.
Because he's right.
People are staring. Adrian seems to realize, his voice dropping. "We're going home. Now."
The car ride is silent, tension crackling.
The second we're inside, Adrian closes the door and pins me against it.
"Playing games, Mrs. Blackwood?"
His face is inches from mine. I can feel his breath.
"I don't know what you're talking about." My voice shakes.
"No?" His thumb brushes my lower lip. "Suddenly changing everything, being so forward, showing up with another man?"
"Marcus is just—"
"I don't care what he is. I care about what game you're playing."
"What about you?" I push his chest. "You and Sophia—"
"Sophia has nothing to do with this—"
"Yes she does! You think I don't know? You think I don't know that in three months—"
I stop.
Almost said too much.
"Three months what?" Adrian frowns.
"Nothing."
"Natalie—"
I shove him back and bolt for the stairs. I hear him call after me but I'm already in my room, door slamming shut.
I slide down to sit on the floor, back against the cold wood.
My chest is heaving.
He has no right to question me. No right to act jealous. He's the one having lunch dates with Sophia. He's the one who's going to leave me in three months for her.
He started this.
So why does it feel like I'm the one losing?
Tears burn in my eyes.
I tilt my head back against the door, refusing to let them fall.
I can't cry.
I'm here to make him regret losing me, not to fall apart.
But my heart hurts.
So much more than I thought it would.
