Charles's thoughts played in my mind. "Other guys better than me? No way! They are hitting on her."

He suited up and went to work.

I blinked, not knowing where he had got that idea. I wasn't meeting anyone.

Nevertheless, I had to swing by the company and stake my claim. I couldn't let the media keep spinning lies about my man.

More importantly, I had to confirm if he really liked me, as his thoughts suggested.

I grabbed a random file from my desk, muttered something about needing to discuss investments, and headed to the wardrobe to select clothes.

My mom called, asking, "Sweetheart, you're going to that gala with Charles, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded absently, choosing a hip-hugging skirt.

"Keep it discreet if you're playing around," she teased.

I nearly dropped the phone. My reputation was going down in flames.

"Mom, I'm innocent."

"Fine, fine. I'm heading there, too. Catch you later."

I rarely visited Charles's office and wondered how he'd react. As my car pulled up to the building, his inner voice returned, suggesting that Charles was nearby.

"Miss her so much. When is this day gonna end? This intern assistant is a total klutz, spilling coffee all over me and trying to strip my shirt off. What a pervert!"

"What? Someone made a move on my man?" I stormed through the glass doors, flashing a quick smile at the receptionist, and charged toward the CEO's private elevator.

I strode to his office, but his assistant popped up in front of me, his face tight with nerves. "Mrs. Hatcher? What brings you here at this hour?"

I narrowed my eyes. "I'm here for Charles. Is he in his office?"

"Uh, Mr. Hatcher is tied up in a meeting. You'll need to wait a bit," William Turner replied, darting a guilty glance back at the office door.

"I'll wait inside," I said, brushing past him.

"How about the lounge? Mr. Hatcher is still..." he tried again.

Before he could finish, a sultry voice floated out of the office. "Mr. Hatcher, why don't you take that shirt off? I'll take it home and wash it for you."

Charles's voice cut through the air. "Hands off me, you moron!"

I bit my lip, barely stifling a laugh at his outburst.

"Your shirt's stained," the woman mumbled. "Are you worried Mrs. Hatcher will catch wind of this?"

A loud slap echoed through the door. "Get out! You're fired!"

"Ha! That's why you're stopping me! Hiding shady things from me!" I shoved William aside and flung the door open.

There stood Tiffany Golden, the teary-eyed intern assistant, her fingers tugging at Charles's shirt.

"I accidentally got Mr. Hatcher's shirt dirty," she stammered. "I just wanted to clean it."

Charles shoved her away, then quickly used the alcohol on the table to disinfect. Tiffany's face flushed crimson, her lips trembling as perfectly timed tears rolled down her cheeks.

William hustled in, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the exit. "You really don't know your place! Leave!"

I stepped inside, catching an unnatural flush on Charles's face. His breath came in short, ragged bursts. His eyes met mine, and my heart skipped.

This guy was just seductive.

"Mrs. Hatcher..." William started.

"Go," Charles commanded, glaring until William shuffled out and closed the door behind him.

"Honey," Charles's voice softened, almost pleading, "can you touch me?"

I hesitated, sensing that something was seriously off with him. But it wasn't my style to pass up a chance to run my hands over that body. I stayed married just for such perks.

Up close, his skin was flushed, not just his face. His whole body seemed to glow with an odd, feverish heat.

He grabbed my hand, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his toned chest. My fingers grazed his warm, taut abs, the heat radiating through his skin.

But the closer I got, the more I felt his barely contained lust. He took my other hand and pressed it to his lips.

"It's her. Her scent is driving me wild. Damn it! How did I get drugged? I want it so badly. That woman must've slipped me something. What if I scare Bianca off?"

His thoughts swirled in my head, urgent and chaotic, as I stole a glance at his flushed face. "Are you all right? Should I call William to take you to a hospital?"

He didn't answer, just buried his face in my palm.

"She's right here, and I'm losing my mind. How do I get her to help me through this?"

His thoughts were spiraling into dangerous territory. I took a bold step forward, perched on his lap, and cupped his face, my fingers trembling as I peeled off his stained shirt.