The Stranger Behind My Orgasm

Finnegan

"A debit of five million dollars?"

The darkness was thick in the penthouse, surrounding me with the only light in the room coming from my phone. The clock display in the upper-right corner of the screen showed one-fifteen am.

My fingers curled tightly around the glass of whiskey that I had poured for myself hours ago. I had barely taken more than one sip. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

I was too damned furious to take another.

How could I have been so blindsided? How the hell did I not see what was right in front of me all along? Abigail Kellerman had deceived me.

Scratch that, she had played me like I was some Ken doll.

It stung; it stung so bad that not even the burn of the whiskey could stop the fury burning in my veins.

Had she laughed at me, watching me apologize for touching her in my office, knowing well enough that I was fucking her anyway?

Was this some sick joke? Was she feeling rather smug every time I was drawn to her like a moth to flame at the club, pining for her, aching for her, letting her touch me, putting up a freaking pretense?

When Henry showed me her registration file, I wasn’t so shocked that it was her. I had been suspecting for a while, but had told myself I was only searching for excuses to fuck my assistant.

She had me fooled, she had me by the balls... she lied to me. Those pretty blue eyes had gazed up at me as she lied about stealing my package. It was a stab to the gut.

I could tolerate everything else, except the lies. When Matt sent me the email showing she was red, it felt like she grabbed the knife and twisted it deeper until I was impaled further.

I knew it couldn’t be that she orchestrated the whole thing. Abigail could be many things, but I doubted there was a single manipulative bone in her body.

"That doesn’t change what she did," I spat, glaring down at the notification on my screen.

It was a debit charge on Victoria’s account. The one account that I had access to and sent her monthly allowance to.

Usually, I didn’t pay any attention to how she spent money. As long as she didn’t bother me, I was fine. But with the pressing urge to divorce her and get her out of I and Angel’s life for good, the demand to find evidence was strong.

It didn’t help that the fucking PI I asked to get proof that my wife was cheating hadn’t found anything in months.

I tapped the notification, a frown creasing my forehead as I read the name of the person she had transferred five fucking million to.

A harsh, bitter giggle tore through my lips, the glass in my hands creaking from how hard I gripped it.

Him? Really? Why would my wife be sending that whopping amount of money to him?

Unless... I pushed off the couch, cold anger filling up my veins. I had better get answers myself, since the man I hired to get them was a fucking fool. I would bet Victoria had forgotten I kept tabs on that account. She had gotten too uncomfortable.

Still in the Dress shirt and pants that I had worn to the club, I strode to the elevator and made my way to the ground floor of the penthouse.

Selecting my sleek black sports car from the garage, I hopped in, turned on the ignition, and swerved out of the garage. My security guard frantically opened the gates as I sped off to the streets of New York.

In thirty minutes, I arrived at Simon’s home in the suburbs, drove the car over his garden, knocking down the gnomes.

I killed the car engine and stomped my way up the small flight of stairs until I reached the door, then pounded my fist against the wooden door with all the rage rushing through me. The knock echoed all over the quiet neighborhood, but I didn’t give a rat ass.

The door opened, and my PI gaped at me, his face white as chalk. He had a flimsy robe on, and the smell of my dear wife’s perfume clung to him like a second skin.

He was fucking Victoria as well. The little bastard was sleeping with my wife, getting money from her while constantly reporting to me that he couldn’t find any evidence of her cheating.

"B-Boss- "

My fist connected with his face before he could say a word more. He screamed, staggering back into the house while I followed, shutting the door swiftly behind me.

"Wait, please," He sputtered, holding a hand up while the other hand clutched his nose. "I can explain, sir- "

"I am tired of hearing people say that shit to me!" I snarled, grabbing him by the shirt, driving another punch into his bleeding nose.

"Was it clever? Thinking you could get my money, pretend to be working for me, while deceiving me? Such a genius, aren’t you?"

"No, sir," He coughed, clasping his hands together. "She approached me! She approached me and I... I..."

"You couldn’t resist her charms?" A sardonic laugh left my lips. "You poor, defenseless man,"

"I’m sorry, boss. I’m sorry, I swear,"

His apologies only fueled my irritation. My fist tightened around his shirt, choking him lightly. "You have twenty-four hours to submit proof that she’s cheating on me, or you’re ruined, Simons. I will reduce you down to that robe on your back. You will have every single one you have ever crossed knocking on your day in one hour if you don’t. Have I made myself clear?"

I let go of him with a shove, watching him drop to the ground, shaking like a skinned rat. My entire body shook in unrestrained anger as I stalked to the door, yanked it open, and covered the steps down in one long stride.

When I drove back to the penthouse, however, an Aston Martin was parked outside the gate, and leaning against it was Victoria, a playful grin on her lips.