𝒯𝓌𝑜 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒. 𝒯𝓌𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈. 𝒯𝓌𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓈.
Isabella Leighton, a 23-year-old aspiring lawyer, unexpectedly lands a job working for the most prominent CEO in New York. While she doesn't align with his lifestyle, the generous sa...
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ASHER
"How much longer can we continue like this?" I asked, my words coming out in staggered, breathy tones, followed by a heavy exhale.
Kady's lengthy hair draped across my shoulder as she rested on me, her bare chest firmly against mine.
"Until the divorce is final?" She insisted.
I paused for a moment, contemplating whether I truly wanted to continue this until the divorce was finalized. I couldn't understand why I kept finding myself in this situation, even though I felt a sense of shame every time.
"Maybe," I replied, gently pushing her off of me. I then climbed out of her bed, searching for my clothes scattered across her room.
As I pulled my white shirt over my head and ruffled my hair, making it even messier than before, I heard her let out a scoff.
I spotted my jeans folded over the white chair in the corner of the room, and my shoes were placed beside the door.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" She asked, her tone curious, while I finished buttoning my pants and stepped into my shoes.
"The guys are having a get-together at the Hilton," I started, glancing at the mirror on the wall in an attempt to tame my disheveled hair. "It's for Isabella," I added.
"Of course," she remarked, folding her hands over her bare chest as she sat up in bed.
I looked at her through the mirror and teased, "Jealous?"
"Of one of the many girls from the office?" She scoffed again. "Please," she added with a hint of sarcasm.
I couldn't help but smile at her spirited attitude. It brought back memories of the first time we met. It was during an office party my father had thrown for me when I had taken on the role of CEO as he was retiring.
I remembered how, at that time, I had thought she was the most stunning girl I'd ever seen. For a while, I believed it was true, but being the CEO of a company, you come across and meet countless women, many of them better than the last in various ways.
Every time I reflected on the early days of Kady and my relationship, I couldn't help but remember how we used to treat each other. Everything had soured so rapidly, as if we had lost all control.
In the days following her request for a divorce, I found myself consumed by nothing but "what ifs." What if we hadn't treated each other poorly? What if we weren't toxic for each other?
