Executive Privilege Ch. 04

"Oh God, don't stop," Wendy's cries bounced off the dimly lit bedroom as Jon ground his hips against hers. Over the course of the last week, things at home seemed to improve by the day. Wendy seemed to find her footing at work, and was back to working normal hours. Not only that, but she seemed to always come home ready for action with Jon. Not that he was complaining, he loved these moments with his wife. He'd read a study recently that couples who had sex at least once a week were more likely to last. If this week was any indication, he and Wendy were going to last forever.

"I love the way you feel," Jon whispered, causing Wendy to wrap her long legs around his back and pull him deeper into her. He felt incredible in this position, so deep and so powerful. Her walls coated his latex covered cock with her juices as her mouth sought his for a hungry kiss.

After her near disaster with Michael last week she had practically cut off all ties with him. Of course, they still had a large project to work on, and she was determined to make that succeed, but not at the cost of her marriage. She had messaged Michael that same night and told him she wanted to find a way to work within normal business hours. Taking it a step further, she even started working primarily from her desk again, only going to Michael's office to prepare for meetings. Overall, it seemed to be working. Michael was a little distant and off-putting at first, but he was professional enough to not push too hard and respect her boundaries (a sentence she never thought she'd say about Michael.)

A nagging worry tugged at the edges of her mind even as Jon's skillful movements built pleasure through her body. The constant communication Michael had always seemed to require of her drifted more and more each day. What had started as a steady stream of emails from him about the Fireball campaign had dwindled to just a couple a day. She understood that after the initial push for launch there would be a cooling off period, but how quickly it happened seemed odd. Ava had tried to tell her that it was probably Michael playing mind games, but she dismissed it. Had Ava always been so petty?

Jon sat back on his knees. From this position he could still make love to his wife while also admiring her chest. His cock pulsed inside her as he watched her chest bounce with each thrust, her nipples, the size of a quarter, stood perfectly erect begging for attention. Attention that Jon was happy to give. He dipped his head while driving his hips forward, taking the nub into his mouth.

"Mmm fuck, that feels so good, baby." Wendy had always found it funny the way Jon paid so much attention to her chest. He was the one person who didn't make her feel self-conscious about it. Sure, she knew he ogled it just as much as every other guy that saw her, but the way he worshipped it during love making made all the difference in the world to her.

Sitting back upright, Jon ran his hands over Wendy's tight stomach. Her eyes were closed, her tongue sliding slightly out from the side of her mouth. Jon knew that meant she was getting close. His testicles began to tighten, he wasn't much further behind her. His fingers continued their descent, running over her freshly shaved pubic mound before finding her clit. He applied gentle pressure at first, he didn't want her to lose her release. Soon, he was rubbing faster, her hips working in circles with his thumb.

Wendy's eyes fluttered open, a smile forming on her lips as she saw the way her husband was looking at her. That look on his face always sent her over the edge. The one of pure love mixed with unadulterated lust. This was real. This was what she wanted, not whatever confusing pull she'd felt in a moment of weakness inside Michael's office. She pushed thoughts of work, of Michael, of the Fireball account temporarily from her mind, focusing only on the man above her.

"Oooh fuck, oh yes. Right there." She felt his cock continue to pound against the sensitive bundle of nerves in her pussy. Her muscles contracted and she gripped his cock harder as her orgasm began to rise up inside of her.

Her orgasm continued to build as Jon's paced picked up. His thumb applying more pressure to her sensitive clit as her juices covered his hand.

She felt a blanket of sparks wash over her whole body, radiating out from her sex while simultaneously covering every inch of her. She curled her toes and tightened her grip on Jon. "Ah Fuck! Fuuuck!"

The room began to spin as Jon felt her walls constricting against him. "Uuuungh," he bellowed, his cock expanding deep inside of his wife as his orgasm came right on the heels of hers. He felt rope after rope explode from his cock as Wendy's grip continued to massage his sensitive shaft.

"Mmmm, I love you," Wendy whispered, as their shared orgasm subsided and Jon collapsed on her chest. She ran her hand through his hair, pulling him against her body as he kissed her chest. "Thanks for taking such good care of me," she said with a laugh.

Jon nestled against Wendy's chest, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat slowing down was like a lullaby. This was his favorite part, the quiet aftermath when he could turn his brain off and not worry about numbers, or stats. Her fingers threaded through his hair, growing slower as sleep began to claim her. He smiled against her skin, thinking about that study on relationship longevity. He had a visit with Dr. Carson lined up for tomorrow. He would honor the appointment, but right now it felt like an overreaction on his part. Their relationship was solid. He was happy. They both were.

***

Michael straightened his tie, firing off one last email to Wendy before heading to Brian's office for their weekly check-in. Things had developed nicely with Wendy before she put the brakes on things. He ran through the events in his head, trying to determine what he could have done differently. Had he pushed her too far? He didn't believe so. If anything, he thought he could push her even farther. She had a lot of pent-up anger, anger that Michael was certain he could redirect.

That frustration simmering beneath her polished exterior fascinated him. He'd watched it build every time the executives dismissed her ideas or colleagues treated her as mere decoration. He could tell she spent way too much time getting ready in the morning, looking for outfits to somehow make her less attractive. She saw her attraction as a weakness. He got the impression she had similar feelings about working so closely with Jon. He noticed the flash in her eyes when someone mentioned her being "Jon's wife" rather than acknowledging her own brilliance, that was pure emotional currency in Michael's bank. He'd spent weeks depositing small validations, recognizing insights others missed, creating a dependency on his approval that she didn't even recognize. Her anger wasn't just professional frustration; it was years of being reduced to her appearance while her mind remained untapped potential. And he knew exactly how to weaponize it against her.

He wasn't going to let it get to him. If she wanted to play hard to get then Michael had a plan for that as well. That was why he was so good at what he did, he was a planner. He had contingency plans for every possible situation. Sure, he may not have expected Wendy to pull away so abruptly, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

Michael clenched his jaw, the sting of betrayal gnawing at him more than he thought it would. He'd invested weeks in Wendy, carefully crafted moments of connection, perfectly timed praise, subtle touches that tested her boundaries while maintaining plausible deniability. In a lot of ways she was just like the others. She thought she was better than him. That just because she was hot she could look down on him. He could still hear her laugh as she and Ava shared a joke at his expense. Her comment about him needing to go to the gym. He couldn't wait to show her just how much cardio he had.

There were other things about her though that made her unlike his other conquests. She really was brilliant, this wasn't merely about physical possession. Maybe that was why she kept surprising him. Or maybe it was because she was Jon's wife. Marcus's golden boy. The brilliant, analytical mind who'd dismissed Michael's marketing instincts one too many times. The thought of claiming what belonged to Jon sent a surge of satisfaction through him that rivaled any bedroom triumph.

He rounded the corner toward Brian's office, mentally shifting gears to his executive persona, when the hushed conversation from behind a partially open door caught his attention.

"I'm meeting with her tonight after work. It was hell trying to track her down." The hushed voice of Marcus on the other side of the office door made Michael stop in his tracks. It was still early in the Buckeye building, not many people at the office yet. He peeked his head through the cracked door, but the glare from the sun nearly blinded him. He pulled back, blinking away the sudden blindness as he strained to listen to the conversation.

"It took some convincing, but she's agreed to talk to me. Michael really did a number on her." Michael chewed on his lip. If they were talking about what he thought they were this could be an even bigger problem than he thought. He'd paid good money to make sure Lisa disappeared and didn't cause him any trouble. If Marcus had found her it could ruin him.

"Do you think she'll tell you what happened?" Ava was in there with him, of course she was. Those two had been a thorn in his side for too long. Michael looked at his watch, a silver Rolex given to him by the company after he was promoted to Director. He still had five more minutes before he met with Brian. He needed to come up with a plan.

"You should come with me. I'm going straight from here at five. She may be more at ease with another woman there. It may help her open up more." A low chuckle formed at the base of Michael's throat, as he checked his watch one last time and continued down the hall. They were making this too easy for him.

***

Sunlight poured in from the open blinds in Brian's office, the light reflecting off Michael's perfectly polished shoes. He looked around the space, he was always impressed when he came to Brian's office. His degree from Ohio State hung behind the chair along with pictures of him with his family.

"There he is." Brian beamed, rising from behind his imposing mahogany desk. "The architect behind our Fireball renaissance. Have a seat." He gestured to the leather sofa in front of the desk. The massive pane of windows beside it framed an impressive cityscape; and, oddly, allowed him to see the scarce dust mites beneath Brian's desk. One day, Michael would have this view for himself.

Michael accepted the invite. "Just doing my part."

Brian took a seat, propping his right leg up on his knee. He wasn't as imposing as Michael, but still had an authoritative air about him. "I had a call with Jack Peterson over at Fireball last week. He couldn't stop talking about the presentation you and Wendy delivered."

Michael sat back comfortably in the sofa, sinking lower into its cloud-like texture. "Jack saw the vision pretty quickly. That's what makes him such an effective partner."

"And Wendy," Brian continued, leaning back in his chair, propping his chin up on his fingers like a steeple. "She's quite the surprise, isn't she? I've seen her around for years, but I had no idea she possessed that level of strategic insight. She really seems to thrive under your guidance."

This time the smile on Michael's face was genuine. Not because he was some proud mentor, but because it meant people were seeing exactly what he wanted them to see. "It's been all her, really. She just needed someone to recognize her potential. I think people just got used to seeing her in Jon's shadow."

Brian nodded thoughtfully. "The way she handled those questions about market segmentation was impressive. You've mentored her well."

"She's been putting in great work. Still trying to find the right balance between home and work, but I'll get her there."

"Understandable," Brian said. "Though timing isn't ideal with the campaign gaining momentum. We need her laser focused on this campaign. I trust you can make that happen?"

Michael shifted in his seat, the leather cracking as he felt beads of sweat start to roll down his back. "I'll see what I can do. She is only a marketing specialist after all. I worry that I'm putting too much on her plate." He paused, looking out the window as if he was deep in thought. Through the reflection he saw Marcus and Ava emerge from his office and head in their direction. "There are also the optics of it," he said, turning back to look at Brian. "I don't want people getting the wrong idea. It's a lot of late nights."

Seconds after Michael spoke Ava and Marcus walked past the open door. Their conversation was hushed, and Ava had a wide grin on her face. Brian's gaze tracked them down the hall, his light smile suddenly hardening. "That's... that's a really good point, Michael. Let me ask you something, and it stays between us."

"Of course." Michael sat forward in his seat, his gut pressing uncomfortably into his knees.

"I've noticed Marcus and Ava spending a lot of time together lately." His eyes shifted back toward the now empty hallway. "You're a lot closer to what goes on out there. People seem to trust you." Michael had to stifle a laugh at just how out of touch Brian was. "Is there anything going on there that I should know about?"

"Marcus has always been dedicated to developing talent," Michael replied, doing his best to look shocked at the allegation. "It's one of his greatest qualities as a leader. You don't think he's..." Michael's eyes went wide like he was just putting the pieces together.

"Maybe I'm just overreacting," Brian sat back in his chair, deep in thought. "You haven't seen or heard anything?"

"No, not that I can think of. I mean there was..." Michael bit his lip glancing out the window. "I mean, I'm sure it was nothing."

Brian drummed his fingers against the desk. "How about you let me be the judge of that?"

Michael nodded, turning back to look at Brian. "Well, I mean, I've seen them leave together a few times after work. I didn't think anything of it. Just assumed they had some important meeting to go to or something."

"Christ," Brian sighed, mulling over this new bit of information. "Someone at Marcus's level should know better." He looked back up at Michael, a look of sadness in his eyes. "I appreciate you being honest with me. I know it's never easy to feel like you're turning on someone you admire."

Michael nodded thoughtfully. "I'm sure it's entirely innocent. I mean, he has a family."

"He's been under a lot of stress lately. Sadly, I've seen it happen one too many times," Brian replied, his concern now firmly established. "I should probably keep an eye on that situation. Let's keep this between us for now."

"I'm sure whatever you decide will be appropriate," Michael offered supportively. "My focus remains on delivering for Fireball."

Brian's smile returned slightly. "I appreciate that. In fact, how do you feel about giving Wendy a promotion? Maybe account manager? It sounds like she's more than put in the work to deserve it. Plus, it would help with..." He glanced back toward the hallway. "Optics."

"I think that's a great idea," Michael said rising to his feet. "Do you mind if I'm the one that tells her?"

"Of course whatever you need. Let's just make sure the project is a success," Brian said, turning his attention to the computer in front of him.

As Michael turned to leave, he caught the reflection of Brian's computer screen in the glass. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like he was looking up Marcus's schedule. Probably trying to figure out if there was any reason for Marcus and Ava to be leaving the office together. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked back to his office, whistling softly.

Too easy, indeed.

***

Wendy sat at her desk, drinking a tall Iced Brown Sugar Oatmilk Espresso with two pumps of vanilla, an extra shot of espresso, and cinnamon drizzle. It was her go-to when she needed a little extra energy, and right now working on the Fireball social media rollout, she needed the extra energy. It wasn't the type of deep strategic planning she'd been doing with Michael, but it needed to be done, and it was her comfort zone. As she skimmed through campaign drafts, she adjusted the collar of her buttoned-up blouse, a cold breeze coming down the hall causing her to tug her cardigan tighter around her shoulders.

A Lady Gaga song whispered through her headphones, her foot tapping along to the beat. A notification popped up on her screen, bringing a satisfied smile to her face. The marketing department's deep dive research was complete, confirming her instinct about the 25-35 demographic's response to the phoenix imagery. Her hips swayed to the music as she danced in her chair. She wanted to share the good news with Jon, but paused. He was the one that told her the numbers were wrong, he would just argue the research team missed something. She tossed her phone back onto her desk just as Michael's shadow fell across her desk.

Wendy removed the earbud, smiling as she spun around in her chair. "I was just about to message you."

"Was it to tell me you finally finished revising the rollout strategy for Fireball?" Michael's voice was loud. It boomed off the walls of every cubicle in the office, causing people to shift and stare. They'd all heard that tone before from Michael. It was like a car crash you couldn't look away from.

Wendy scrunched her nose, searching Michael's eyes for any clue as to what he was talking about. "What revised strategy?"

Michael let out a huff, his nostrils flaring. Wendy thought for sure she could see smoke billowing from them, like a dragon about to incinerate its prey. "The one I specifically asked you to prioritize. The one I sent you detailed instructions about last Wednesday."

"I never--" Wendy's voice was low, too small for her body as waves of uncertainty washed over her. "You didn't send me anything about revisions."

Michael growled under his breath as he pulled out his phone, shaking his head as he scrolled through it in search of the email. "Wednesday, 2:37 PM. Subject line: URGENT: Fireball Rollout Revisions Required ACTION NEEDED." He turned the screen toward her. "Followed by two more emails on Thursday and Friday when you didn't respond."

The office was eerily silent, except for the sound of Lady Gaga screaming "Poker Face" from the discarded earbud. But Wendy had no poker face, she could feel every eye in the building on her as she turned three different shades of red. She frantically opened her email. No sign of them in her inbox. With growing horror, she checked her spam folder and there they were. Michael's emails buried among discount pharmacy offers and cryptocurrency scams. All with the same words: "ACT NOW", "ACTION NEEDED".

"They... they went to spam." Wendy's hands slid to her legs as she curled and uncurled her fingers against the fabric in her normal four count beat trying to calm her racing heart. "I think when you added action needed it must have triggered something. I'm sorry, Michael I never-"

"Oh so somehow this is my fault?" Michael let out an insidious laugh that turned Wendy's skin ghost white, a look of sheer disappointment on his face. "Everyone told me this account was too much for you to handle, but I didn't listen." He gripped the edge of the cubicle wall. "When you stopped putting in the work, and only started doing the bare minimum this week I should have known."

Wendy's bottom lip started to tremble, tears stinging the back of her eyes. Everyone was looking at her, watching her as she flamed out, just like they knew she would. "Michael please... I... I wasn't saying it was your fault. I just meant."

"It's my fault really." He ran a hand through his greying hair. "when you decided you didn't need my help anymore and you could do it all from your desk... that's when I should have put my foot down. But I didn't. You disappoint me Wendy."

Wendy's cheeks burned as she scrolled through the messages, seeing Michael's increasingly urgent tone across the three emails. The detailed instructions, the timeline, the expectations--all ignored. "I can fix this. I'll work through lunch and--"

"I'll do it," Michael snapped, "like I've done everything else since you decided you could treat this project like any normal nine-to-five." His massive frame seemed to block out the fluorescent lights overhead, casting her in his shadow. "If you don't want this opportunity, if you're not willing to take it seriously and fully commit, I'll find someone who will. I won't risk this account for someone who isn't fully committed."

He turned to leave, and Wendy shot to her feet, anxiety thrumming through her veins. "Michael, wait." Her voice cracked slightly, the tears beginning to slide down her cheek. "I am committed. I've been... I was distracted last week, I'm sorry. You've got my full attention now. Early mornings, late nights, whatever you need. Please, just give me one more chance."

Michael stood with his back to her, his broad shoulders rigid under his expensive suit. Wendy couldn't see the predatory smile that curved his lips as he savored her desperation.

"Please Michael," her tone was soft as she sniffled back more tears. "I won't let you down again. I promise."

"I've got to think of a way to salvage this," he said without turning around. "Marcus wants us in his office at 4:30 to explain exactly what happened." Then, deliberately: "Don't be late."

The silence following his departure was deafening. Wendy slumped back into her chair, fingers finding her wedding ring, spinning it frantically. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four.

"Are you okay?" Ava whispered, rolling her chair closer. "What an asshole. He didn't need to--

Wendy shot to her feet again, wiping her tears away with her palms before gathering her tablet with trembling hands. "Not now, Ava. Just... not now."

She darted off to the restroom, wanting to compose herself before seeing anyone else. This was her biggest fear, and most embarrassing moment all rolled into one, with the exception of the gift mix-up with Michael, but this felt worse. This was a direct reflection of her work ethic, her competence. She needed to find a way to get back in Michael's good graces and prove to everyone who had just heard that exchange that Wendy really was up to the challenge. Behind her, Ava exchanged concerned glances with other colleagues, all of them too familiar with Michael's public displays of dominance to be surprised, yet still uncomfortable with this latest target.

***

Jon drummed his fingers against the leather armrest, staring at the clock as Dr. Carson reviewed his notes. He hated the smell of the building. The combination of old books and fresh paint made it feel suffocating as he fidgeted in the chair. Outside the window, Columbus's business district hummed with lunchtime activity, with people who hadn't wasted their break sitting in a therapist's office discussing problems that might not even exist anymore.

"I almost didn't come today," Jon admitted, adjusting his glasses. "Things with Wendy have been... really good this week. I think I just got in my head is all."

Dr. Carson's expression remained neutral, with only the slight nod of his head as he studied Jon. At sixty-two, he carried himself with the confidence of someone who'd heard every possible human problem and wasn't easily surprised.

"Yet you're here," Dr. Carson observed, setting his notepad aside. "What made you keep the appointment?"

Jon's gaze drifted to the degrees hanging on the wall. A PhD in Clinical Psychology from Northwestern, various certifications in relationship counseling. All that education, and Jon was using it to solve a problem that might have already fixed itself.

"I made a commitment," Jon finally said, not making eye contact. "The appointment was in my calendar, so I kept it. The statistics on therapy consistency are clear. Patients who regularly keep their sessions show a 43% higher rate of--"

Dr. Carson chuckled warmly. "I see you're still big on analytics, Jon. Some things never change, even after all these years." His eyes crinkled at the corners with affection. "Tell me about the real reason you made this appointment after such a long break."

Jon exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging. "My wife's boss, Michael."

"Your wife's boss?"

"My boss too, technically. Though he doesn't act like it." Jon's fingers clenched into a fist on the armrest. "When Wendy started working closely with him on this Fireball campaign, she was suddenly coming home late, going in early."

"And why do you think that struck a nerve?"

"It reminded me of Olivia." Just saying her name made his stomach flip. He knew Dr. Carson expected him to say it. There was no sense in dancing around it. "Not that Wendy would ever... especially not with someone like Michael." He rolled his eyes when he said Michael's name.

Dr. Carson tilted his head slightly, like a dog who didn't understand. Except Jon knew he understood, he just wanted to know Jon did too. "Someone like Michael?"

"He's everything I'm not," Jon said with a humorless laugh. "Loud. Aggressive. Physically imposing... like he has no regard for his physical appearance. Completely disregards data in favor of gut instinct." He ran his hands through his hair to calm himself. "And yet executives listen to him. People respect him, somehow."

"You mentioned especially not with someone like Michael," Dr. Carson repeated carefully. "Is there a type of person you believe Wendy might be drawn to?"

Jon opened his mouth to dismiss the question but caught himself. This was why he'd made the appointment, he might as well be honest.

"Someone who's analytical like me, but also has her same creative instincts, I guess," he finally said. "Someone who... understands her." He dipped his head, it wasn't that he didn't think he deserved Wendy. He just hated that he had to try so hard sometimes.

"The last time we talked, you spoke in great detail about Olivia," Dr. Carson noted. "What are your thoughts about her now?"

Jon sat straighter in his chair. "Ancient history."

"Yet you brought her up in relation to your concerns about Wendy and Michael."

"It's different," Jon insisted. "With Olivia, I was just a data analyst, fresh out of school. No real status, no achievement to my name. I couldn't understand why someone like her would be interested in me. So when she started staying late at work, having drinks with her boss..."

"You assumed the worst."

"I created a statistical model," Jon said flatly. "Tracked arrival times, phone usage patterns...", he paused, suddenly embarrassed. "changes in our intimacy frequency."

If the last detail phased Dr. Carson he didn't show it. "As I recall," he interjected gently, "you built what you considered an airtight case against her."

Jon nodded, staring at the pattern in the Persian rug beneath his feet. He wished he was in Persia right now, anywhere instead of reliving all of this. "I confronted her. Laid out all my findings, detail by detail."

"And she revealed she'd been working extra hours for your surprise birthday trip," Dr. Carson supplied. "Not the affair you'd convinced yourself was happening."

"She couldn't understand why I didn't just ask her," Jon murmured, sliding his feet against the rug and watching how the pattern changed slightly. "Said she couldn't be with someone who didn't trust her enough to even ask." He swallowed hard. "By the time I realized what I'd done, she was gone."

Dr. Carson let the silence stretch between them, giving Jon's admission room to breathe. Jon broke his focus away from the rug and brought it to the window. Outside clouds shifted, making the sun stretch further into the office.

"Do you know what catastrophizing is, Jon?"

Jon turned his attention back to the doctor, his eyebrows pinching in thought. "I'm familiar with the term but not the clinical definition."

"It's when we take minor concerns and immediately jump to worst-case scenarios," Dr. Carson explained. "But there's something deeper at work here. You've described Michael as an opposite to yourself; primarily in ways you perceive as negative. Yet you also noted that he commands respect. That executives listen to him despite his dismissal of the data you value."

Jon's expression darkened. "So?"

"So perhaps this isn't actually about Wendy cheating. Perhaps it's about something you fear more deeply."

"Which is?"

"Loss of control." Dr. Carson's words cut through Jon like a knife. "When you couldn't understand what was happening with Olivia, you created a narrative that gave you control over the situation. You didn't even mind if the narrative was painful as long as you had control. You're doing the same thing now."

Jon's breath caught in his throat. The room suddenly felt too small, the chair seemed to be closing in on him, making it harder for him to breathe.

"You've structured your entire professional and personal identity around being the one who knows," Dr. Carson continued gently, ensuring to keep accusation out of his voice. "You have to be the smartest person in the room. Not to prove yourself to others, but to convince yourself that you're in control. After Olivia left, you doubled down on this approach; building a fortress of data and analysis where unpredictability couldn't touch you."

"It's worked," Jon said defensively. "I've built a career on it. A marriage. I'm a changed man. A better man."

"Has it? Or have you created a situation where you need to be right so badly that you're manufacturing evidence to support your fears? You're seeing threats to your marriage that may not exist, just as you did with Olivia."

Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, laying his hands flat in his lap. "I trust Wendy. I told you, things have been great lately."

"I believe that," Dr. Carson nodded. "But what happens when things aren't great, and you're not completely sure why? Do you trust yourself to handle uncertainty without trying to control it and fill in the blanks yourself? To accept that sometimes, you won't have all the answers... and that's okay?"

The question was like a weight on Jon's chest. Was that what he was doing? Outside, rain began to spatter against the window, distorting the view of the city beyond.

"I don't know how," Jon finally admitted. "Numbers are safe. Predictable. People aren't." He removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "What if I let go of control and everything falls apart?"

Dr. Carson's expression softened. "That's the real fear, isn't it? Not that Wendy will cheat, but that without your analytical framework to make sense of the world, you'll be vulnerable. That you'll be blindsided."

"So what do I do?" Jon asked, vulnerability replacing his usual certainty. "How do I fix this?"

"You start by recognizing that this isn't a problem to be solved, but a relationship to be experienced." Dr. Carson set his notepad down entirely, leaning forward. "When was the last time you just supported Wendy? Not by giving her stats or numbers, but by listening to her problems? Letting her vent without the need to answer or solve the problem for her?"

Jon blinked. "I... I'm not sure."

"Perhaps that's where you begin," Dr. Carson suggested. "Not with assumptions or projections, but with genuine curiosity. The same curiosity that makes you such an effective analyst, but directed toward understanding Wendy's emotional landscape rather than predicting it."

Jon nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders starting to ease. "I can do that."

"I know you can," Dr. Carson said with quiet certainty. "Your way of thinking isn't the problem, Jon. It's a strength, and it's one of many you possess. The challenge is learning when to rely on it and when to set it aside."

As the session concluded, Jon checked his watch. He'd need to hurry back to make his next meeting. But Jon was happy he'd kept the appointment. He'd learned things about himself he hadn't realized before. Even if everything was fine with Wendy, he had things he needed to work on.

"Same time next week?" Dr. Carson asked, standing to open the door.

Jon nodded, surprised to find he meant it. "I'll be here."

Outside, the rain had intensified, forcing Jon to jog to his car. He'd been so focused on the statistical probability of losing Wendy that he'd missed the emotional certainty of how to keep her. That would change, starting tonight.

***

Marcus's office felt glacial despite the mid-afternoon sun shining through the window. Wendy wrapped her arms around her body. She felt like she had been called into the principal's office and she was patiently waiting for her punishment. Beside her, Michael sat like this was just a casual conversation between friends. His knee gently touching hers as the chair threatened to give way under him. Her black dress had ridden up slightly, causing her knee to be exposed where he pressed against it. The physical contact was subtle, but it was enough to make Wendy's skin burn and her mind recall everything that happened last week.

Marcus sat across from them, his jaw tight as he read through the latest email from the Fireball team regarding the timeline. A gold watch hung loosely on his wrist, catching the light as he moved. Wendy could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall behind her, each second of silence feeling more and more like the end of her career was drawing closer.

"I just got off a call with Jack Peterson," Marcus's voice had an edge to it Wendy hadn't heard before. "Anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?" His gold watch caught the light as he folded his hands on the desk, knuckles whitening slightly.

Wendy's pulse hammered against her throat. She could feel Michael's presence beside her, radiating a calm that seemed impossible given the circumstances. Her fingers found her wedding ring, spinning it once before she caught herself and placed both hands deliberately on the table.

"It was my responsibility," she began, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Michael emailed me last week, but they went to spam, and I didn't--"

"It was a communication oversight," Michael said with a smugness. He leaned forward running his palm against the back of his neck. "Though if we're being honest, that entire process could use some streamlining. I mean, here we are working on the largest account this company has ever seen and we are sending emails to talk to other critical members of the team."

Marcus's eyebrows shot up. Their eyes meeting across the desk, neither man wanting to blink. The muscles in his jaw clenching as Michael dismissed the criticality of the situation. "You seem to have a lot of those... communication oversights when it comes to projects like this. If you're having trouble leading then I'm sure we--"

The vein in Michael's neck pulsed with rage, the only sign that Marcus's comment affected him at all. He knew Marcus was talking about what happened with Lisa. "No trouble at all, actually. Just trying to think about the best way to allow Wendy here the comfort of working at her own desk while still staying up to speed with the Fireball project."

"Let me guess, you already have some suggestions?"

"In fact, I do." Michael sat back in his chair, the smile on his face never faltering despite the disdain that was evident in his eyes. He reached for a water bottle, opening it and setting it in front of Wendy before doing the same for himself. It was a subtle gesture of unity that completely caught Wendy off guard. "Wendy's been doing the best she can despite being buried in the bullpen. She needs proper authority. An office closer to the action, a title change."

The room began to spin. Was Michael defending her after publicly humiliating her just hours ago? Her confusion must have shown on her face because Marcus was studying her with increasing interest. She felt hot, her leg pressed further against Michael's. It wasn't deliberate, but his presence made her feel almost... safe?

"What I'm suggesting," Michael continued as if this was just another casual conversation between friends, "is a promotion. Account Manager, with a proper office. It would give her the authority to communicate directly with Fireball executives and the space to think strategically." He turned to Wendy, his expression radiating professional admiration that bore no resemblance to the man who'd berated her earlier. "The kind of vision she's demonstrated deserves proper recognition. I'm confident with the proper... encouragement Wendy will be fully committed to all of her..." He paused for a second, his hand coming to rest on his leg under the table, his fingers brushing against her exposed knee. "commitments. Isn't that right, Wendy?"

Wendy's focus fractured like cracked ice, splitting into jagged, chaotic pieces. This morning, he'd eviscerated her in front of the entire department. Now he was proposing she be promoted? Another part of her mind, screamed this was a trap. She saw how he was looking at her, understood the double meaning of his words, but she was struggling to process them. Instead, the part of her that couldn't let this project fail won out. She was so close to everything she'd worked for, she just needed to focus.

"Yeah... yes sir. Whatever we need to do. I want this project to succeed."

Marcus glanced past them to the clock on the wall, a move that wasn't missed by Michael, then quickly back to the timeline on his screen. "Talks of promotion seem premature. We need to get this project back on track first or we may be having an entirely different conversation."

Marcus was glaring at Michael as he said it, but Wendy couldn't help but feel like the statement was directed at her. Did he mean termination? Just last week Wendy felt like she was on cloud 9, now there was talk of her possibly being fired? She couldn't, she wouldn't, let that happen. She was determined to make this project a success whatever the cost.

"I actually already ran it by Brian," Michael countered smoothly noting the flicker of shock on Marcus's face.

"You went over my head? That's highly unpr--"

"It wasn't anything like that. You were just in another meeting and Brian asked how I thought we could get things back on track."

Wendy's cheeks burned, as she turned to look at the man beside her. His fingers were still touching her knee, it was possible he didn't even realize they were there. He had talked to Brian about her? About a promotion?

Marcus's glare turned from Michael back to the clock on the wall, ten til five. He hated that Michael had the upper hand, but he didn't have time to dwell on that. He needed to wrap things up.

"If Brian's already approved it then I suppose it's out of my hands," Marcus said finally. "We'll need to figure out office space though. Give me a few days to figure out arrangements and get the paperwork finalized before making any type of announcement. In the meantime, get me the revised strategy and distribution plan by Friday."

Michael nodded, satisfaction ghosting across his features so quickly Wendy almost missed it. "Fair enough. We'll get started first thing tomorrow and--"

"Tonight," Wendy heard herself say, surprising all three of them. "We can start right after this meeting. Work late." She met Michael's gaze directly, not really thinking about what she was saying before she said it. "If we're committed to saving this account, there's no reason to wait until morning."

Michael's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course. I have nowhere to be."

Marcus nodded at them, already shutting down his computer. "I need to head out. Thanks for your attention on this." Another glance at his clock. "But I expect a detailed status report in my inbox by nine tomorrow."

As Marcus gathered his materials, Wendy felt the weight of her rash decision begin to hit her. She'd just volunteered for another late night alone with Michael. this was the exact situation she'd been avoiding since their near-miss in the conference room. But the alternative was watching the biggest opportunity of her career slip away because of missed emails and mixed signals.

Michael stood as Marcus headed for the door. "Meet me back in my office in five minutes. We can pick up where we left off."

Wendy opened her mouth to talk, but no words came out. She felt heat running up her spine at the implication. she needed a different approach with Michael. He was a man who appreciated directness. So she'd be direct, find a way to put an end to these double meanings and ensure he had nothing else to hold over her head.

***

Wendy rehearsed her speech in her head for over ten minutes before standing outside of Michael's office. She felt her pulse racing in her neck as she tried to find her confidence. She needed to reestablish boundaries and make sure Michael was on the same page as her without jeopardizing the account or her career. With a bout of confidence she pushed Michael's door open, rattling the blinds in the process. His desk was empty, catching Wendy slightly off-guard, until she saw him standing at the window watching the parking lot below.

"If this is going to work, we need to talk," she announced, kicking the door closed behind her with her foot.

Outside, Ava and Marcus were rushing to his car. The rain was starting to just pick back up again and Ava huddled close to Marcus to avoid getting wet. Michael's smile lifted his face. He couldn't believe his luck with the weather. He couldn't see Brian's office from where he was positioned, but he was confident Brian was watching as well and the thought of it brought a warm smile to his face.

"Did you hear me? I said we need to talk." Wendy was already losing momentum, as she wondered what could possibly be so important outside.

Michael didn't turn immediately, he wanted to keep her on edge. Keep her guessing. "I heard you," he replied before turning his full attention to the woman across from him. "But unless it's about shifting the Fireball rollout from tri-state to local, it needs to wait." His voice was sharp, serious. She'd expected more double meanings or inappropriate glances, but instead Michael was all business.

"What do you mean 'local'?" The winds of confrontation had completely left her sails, replaced by professional confusion.

"They want a more grassroots approach." He gestured to his computer. "Which you would know if you'd checked any of the emails I sent you last week." Wendy burned with embarrassment, wanting to shrink into the closest chair and just start working. "They're pivoting toward community-based events instead of the regional media blitz we'd planned. They want to start even smaller than we initially thought."

The righteous energy that carried her into the office had evaporated as her mind tried to process all that was happening. She slumped into the chair across from Michael's desk, her purse sliding off her shoulder. "Where do we start?"

The sun continued to set, casting them into near darkness as they revised and dissected their rollout strategy and campaign messaging. They did their best to adjust their approach while maintaining the core "Evolve Your Fire" concept. Like before, they were about to achieve results neither of them would have been able to achieve alone. As much as Wendy tried to fight it, she couldn't deny just how well they worked together.

By nine o'clock Chinese food takeout boxes littered the small table next to Michael's desk. Wendy had slipped off her cardigan as they worked, the warmth of the cramped office and heat from their food forcing her to expose more of her shoulder than she ever had before. By ten, they had a completely revamped strategy that addressed Fireball's new direction.

"And sent," Michael said with a satisfied smile as he emailed the revised plan to both Marcus and the Fireball team. "Barring any catastrophes, I'd say we just saved the account." He leaned back in his chair, suddenly looking more human than the intimidating figure who'd berated her that morning.

"So," Michael said, closing his laptop. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"

The question caught her off-guard, despite the fact that she'd been anticipating it. She gathered empty takeout containers, buying time as she tried to recapture the determination that had brought her to his office hours ago.

"Right," she began, setting down the containers and taking a deep breath. "We need to establish some boundaries."

Michael's expression remained neutral, waiting.

"This IOU thing," Wendy continued, her eyes trying to focus on anything except for Michael. "It was a mistake. A mix-up. You need to just let it go and--"

"I don't think it was a mistake at all," Michael interrupted, rising from his chair. "In fact, I'm pretty excited to get to finally cash it in." He moved toward her with deliberate slowness. "'One night of making your wildest dreams come true,'" he recited from memory, his voice dropping to a lower register. "'A 24-hour pass to all of your deepest desires.'"

The heat of his presence made it hard to think clearly. Wendy took a small step backwards, finding herself against the door.

"I want you to give it to me," she demanded. "Or destroy it. But I can't have you continue to hold it over my head." The words were the same as what she'd practice, but her delivery was off. It had lost all its spunk.

"According to the IOU," Michael said, now close enough that she could smell the sweet and sour sauce on his breath, "It's valid until I use it."

Wendy rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to fuck you, Michael," she blurted out, very matter-of-factly. Michael stared at her, no doubt caught off guard by her bluntness and soon he was laughing. His laughter seemed almost infectious and without wanting to, Wendy had started to laugh too.

Once they got their laughter under control, Wendy tried to keep her serious demeanor. "I'm serious Michael. It's not happening."

"I won't force you to do anything you don't want." Michael kept his voice reasonable, reassuring even, but inside he was practically ecstatic. The fact that Wendy was the one to bring up sex meant that it was on her mind, even if she insisted it wasn't a possibility. The seed had already been planted. He leaned in closer to her so he could whisper in her ear. "Besides, there's lots of other things we can do that don't require me fucking you."

Chills ran down Wendy's spine when he said that. No one had ever talked to her like that before. His brashness, his cockiness, it should have caused Wendy to slap him and storm out. Instead, she felt butterflies in her stomach and a heat building between her legs she desperately wanted to ignore. Wendy felt trapped between her desire to escape and her need to resolve this situation once and for all. A wild idea formed in her exhausted mind.

"Jesus, you're like a dog with a bone," Wendy chastised, although she couldn't keep the smile off her face when she said it. "How about this offer? I give you one kiss. Right here, right now and then we call the entire thing even." The words escaped before she could fully consider them.

The smile that spread across Michael's face told her she'd made a critical error in judgment. She'd opened a door she'd been trying desperately to keep closed.

Michael seemed to consider the proposal, taking a step backward and looking Wendy over. "If I remember correctly," he said slowly, savoring each word, "the note promised a night of making my wildest dreams come true, not just a kiss." His gaze traveled deliberately over her face, down to her lips. "You're hot, Wendy, but that's a far cry from my wildest fantasy."

"I told you, I'm not going to have sex with you," she repeated, more firmly this time.

"Who said anything about sex?" His voice was maddeningly reasonable. "I'll tell you what. If you really want to get rid of it, we can make a little wager."

"Wh... what kind of wager?" She knew she shouldn't even be entertaining the idea, but if she could just get Michael to stop holding the IOU over her head everything would be so much easier.

"Give me sixty seconds..." his eyes wander over her body, his tongue darting from his mouth. "If I'm unable to make you cum in sixty seconds using just my fingers then we shred this thing into pieces right now." He reaches into the front pocket of his shirt and pulls out the IOU. Something about seeing it makes heat flood Wendy's core as she processes his words.

"You've got to be kidding," Wendy said, but her voice lacked conviction. Her mind was still processing. While she was sure it probably wasn't impossible to get someone off that quickly, she'd never personally experienced it and she imagined someone like Michael wouldn't be able to be the first. Perhaps he was overplaying his hand.

"It's not sex, Wendy." He wasn't able to hide the smile on his face. "And it gets you what you want. You can burn the thing if you want to."

"And what happens if you win?" Wendy arched her eyebrow, not wanting to get in any deeper.

"Then the paper goes back in my pocket and we continue as if nothing ever happened." This time he didn't even try to hide his smile. "That is until you want to try again."

Butterflies were tumbling in her stomach. This was stupid. Why was she even considering it? She thought back to Marcus's office earlier. His threat about a different conversation playing in her head. "Sixty seconds. You know that's next to impossible, right?" Wendy was spinning her wedding ring as she spoke.

"Sounds like you have nothing to worry about then, right?" Michael stepped closer, his gut pressed against her, pinning her to the door.

Warning lights flashed in her mind, like one of those obnoxiously large ones in the cartoons she would watch as a kid. But like the characters in those cartoons she was ignoring them, choosing the dangerous path.

_Walk away. Right now. Just say no and leave._

The thought was so simple, so clear, she almost did it. She should have done it. She even felt her muscles tensing to push past Michael, to grab her purse and run. It would be awkward tomorrow, but she would have her dignity, her marriage, herself.

But alongside that voice came another; the one that remembered every dismissive glance, every patronizing explanation, every time she'd been passed over or reduced to "Jon's wife" or "the former model." The voice that had tasted power and recognition for the first time and couldn't bear to let it go. The voice that whispered: _You've made if further with Michael in a few weeks than you did the years without him. Without Michael, there's no promotion, no recognition. Just another marketing specialist. Forgotten. Invisible._

Wendy took a shuddering breath. The clarity that had momentarily broken through was already receding, replaced by the familiar calculations and justifications. _It's just a bet. It won't go further. I'll win and destroy that stupid IOU once and for all. This is a strategic decision to protect my career._

"I just... I have your word that you're not going to go back on your word?"

"Scouts honor," Michael said, with a grin. "How about a kiss to seal the deal and make it official?"

"That wasn't part of--"

Before she could finish, his lips found hers before she could react, one hand gently cupping her face while the other settled at her waist. The kiss was aggressive, passionate. His thick tongue filled her mouth pressing against her teeth. The top row of his teeth grazed her lip making her knees buckle. the worst part of all, was that her body responded. Heat bloomed in her core as his lips moved against hers, expert and confident in a way that made her mind go temporarily blank. He seemed to coax her tongue to participate and before she realized it, she was kissing him back. Her tongue wrestling with his as he worked to completely dominate her mouth. When he finally pulled back, her lips were parted slightly, short of breath and utterly confused by her own reaction.

Every cell in Wendy's body felt like it was buzzing with sexual energy. she blinked, several times in quick succession as if she was trying to come out of a dream.

Michael's smile was that of a man who already knew the outcome of a game his opponent didn't fully understand. "Watch the clock," he instructed, pointing to the wall behind him. "No cheating."

His hands were already on her legs, bunching her dress around her hips. His fingers slid across her bare thigh causing her to shudder. His touch felt like fire, she was suddenly very aware of the situation she had put herself in. Even if Michael lost she would still have to face him, still know what he'd done.

"Maybe we should... Ohhh fuck," Wendy lost her train of thought as Michael's meaty, sausage-like fingers pressed against the front of her panties and immediately parted her lips.

"Mmm already, so wet and eager," he teased, pressing the fabric into her core. "Start the timer."

The world shook around Wendy as she grabbed Michael's shoulders for support. She expected to be met with firm muscle mass, it was what she was used to with Jon. Instead, her fingers sunk into his fatty flesh causing her to fall forward slightly. Her eyes were wide in panic as she scanned the room finding the clock on the wall.

It took Michael less than two seconds to slide her panties aside and work his finger between her slick folds. "I love a woman who shaves bald," he whispered, close enough now to press his lips to her neck. "So juicy, so wet so... slutty." To punctuate his last word he pressed his fat finger between her lips, feeling her walls part like the sea.

"Fff fuck," Wendy cried, curling her fingers against his shoulders and sinking her nails into his arm.

Michael slid his digits back out of Wendy's core, having already soaked them in her juices. He rubbed the pads of his middle and pointer finger across and around her swollen clit with just the right amount of pressure.

Pleasure skittered around her body, her eyes fluttering shut. Her hips began to sway on their own desperate for more contact.

"Oh, you like that, don't you? Did I already find the sweet spot?" Michael chuckled in her ear and let his tongue run along the base of her neck. "Eyes open, princess. Gotta make sure you keep track of the time."

With a sigh, Wendy opened her eyes. Her mind was foggy, she couldn't remember if it'd been ten seconds or thirty. She was suddenly not so sure that she was going to win this bet. She wasn't sure if Michael was even more skilled than she realized or if her body had just been primed from all the sex with Jon over the course of the week, but she could already feel her orgasm start to build.

"You... fuck. You have fifty seconds."

Michael's tongue continued its assault on her neck, before he dipped his head further and pressed his teeth to her sensitive flesh. Goosebumps exploded over Wendy's skin as Michael worked his entire hand between her legs pulling her panties down to allow himself better access.

"You like this better though, right?" he asked sliding not one but two fingers inside of her. Wendy's walls stretched to accommodate their girth. Her legs opening wider to allow him better access.

"Ohhh... oh God," her mind was reeling, all thoughts of Jon and faithfulness gone. How was he so good with just his fingers? She wiggled her hips against the invasion. She wished she could convince herself that she was doing it to keep his fingers out of her, but the truth was she was trying to get him deeper.

"Not God, just Michael." Wendy wanted to roll her eyes at the lame humor, but he was already easing his fingers in and out of her. The wet sound of her arousal filling the air.

"Th... thirty seconds," she barely remembered to look at the clock. Her lip was between her teeth as she struggled to keep from screaming his name in pleasure.

"You're so fucking tight." He worked his fingers deeper, curling them slightly as he hit her G-Spot, causing Wendy to pant. "I can't wait to fuck you."

"Ohhh, don't... you can't." She was having trouble forming words, her entire body felt like it was on fire. She could feel herself on the verge of surrender, her orgasm so close.

He was working his fingers into a frenzy now and the sound of her pussy sucking his fingers grew louder. There was no doubt in his mind he was going to win. He was actually surprised she went along with the bet so easily. He expected to have to push her, but once he'd started she was like a powder keg ready to explode.

"Fif... uuugh, oh God. Fifteen."

His lips dusted over the shell of her ear. She was ready. She just needed one final push. "You hear that Wendy? Your cunt loves my fingers. Wait until she feels my cock." He drove his fingers deeper into her core, grinding the heel of his hand against her sensitive clit.

"Mmmm you can't... Fuck ooooh God. Michael." Every nerve in her body seemed to turn on all at once, as an inferno washed over her. Her walls clamped down on Michael's fingers pulling them deeper inside her, her head falling onto his chest. "uggghhh Fuck, oh fuck, that feels so good."

Michael's fingers stopped their assault on her quivering pussy as it continued to spasm and suck on them like they were a cock. Her entire body was leaning on Michael for support, as she tried to recover from the intensity of it all.

After her orgasm finally subsided, Michael slipped his fingers from inside her. The sudden emptiness made Wendy whimper softly, but she barely had the energy, or the self-respect to lift her head from his chest. She stared at him, blinking and wanting to wipe the stupid smirk from his face. But she couldn't deny the intensity of what just happened. Even now, in the aftermath of her orgasm, her mind told her she should yell at him. Call him a cheater, something to regain her dignity. Meanwhile, her body was still humming, silently hoping he would take things further and... she was afraid to finish that thought.

Michael slowly lifted his fingers up to his face. The light reflecting on them and causing them to glisten from her desire. He held her gaze before slipping them into his mouth and sucking them clean while maintaining a level of eye contact that felt too intimate for the two of them.

"I can't wait to taste it straight from the source," he said with a wink before the ding of an incoming email breaks the spell they both seemed to be under.

"That... that will never happen." But there was no conviction in her voice. Michael had already picked back up the IOU and placed it back in his pocket. A silent reminder that he could, and certainly would, still hold it over her. The only thing she managed to do here today was get herself in even deeper.

Reality was already starting to crash over Wendy like ice water. Jon. Her husband's face materialized in her mind, his kind eyes behind those glasses, the way he'd kissed her goodbye this morning, completely unaware of what was happening with Michael. A hollow ache spread through her chest, replacing the dying embers of pleasure with something colder that made her feel sick.

What would Jon think if he could see her now? Dress bunched around her waist, underwear askew, leaning against her boss's bulk for support after his fingers had been inside her. After she'd invited his fingers inside her. She straightened, pulling away from Michael's body heat, desperate to reestablish some semblance of physical boundaries now that her mental ones had collapsed so completely.

She wanted to blame Michael, to cast him as the villain who'd manipulated her into this position. But the truth clawed at her conscience, she had suggested the kiss. She had agreed to the bet. She had spread her legs wider when his fingers entered her. She could still feel the pleasure he'd brought her just moments ago. The mere thought of it caused her core to ache in a way she hated to admit. She had convinced herself she wasn't really cheating, she was just doing what she needed in order to keep Michael from holding the IOU over her. Now she wasn't so sure.

Wendy spent the next several minutes gathering her things and straightening out her clothes before heading to the door. Right as she opened it, she heard Michael chuckle and it caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand.

"Check your email," he said with a little too much joy in his voice. "Fireball loved the presentation we sent them." A smile grew on Wendy's face, at least something good had come from tonight. "They liked it so much in fact that they want us to spend a couple days there starting tomorrow for some in person meetings to discuss."

And there it was, the other shoe had dropped. Wendy's knuckles were white, she was gripping the door so hard. There was no way she could go on a trip with Michael. Especially one that involved an overnight, not after what just happened between them. But then, she'd already risked so much for it. She had a new promotion on the table, the project was back on track despite her nearly being fired from it this morning. Could she really give all that up after all she's endured to get it?

"I'll... pack a bag," she said softly hanging her head low before leaving his office.

***

Wendy's mind raced as she sat in her driveway trying to get the nerve to walk inside. She couldn't even remember driving home, she was still trying to make sense of what had just happened and what it meant for her going forward. Would she walk inside and completely break down? Would he immediately see it on her? Smell it on her?

With a deep breath, Wendy killed the engine and went inside, half expecting to see Jon already packing a bag to leave her. Instead, he was sitting in his normal spot at the desk in the living room playing solitaire. The normalcy of it all sent a fresh wave of guilt and shame through her.

"Let me guess, Michael's back to testing your limits?" He said, glancing up with a smile.

Wendy dropped her purse with a gasp, before seeing Jon's face and realizing what he actually meant. She took a deep breath, trying to stop herself from feeling like she may puke. "Had to salvage the Fireball campaign." She couldn't meet his gaze as she slipped off her heels, flexing toes that still tingled from her encounter with Michael. "We got it done, though."

Jon set his laptop aside, giving her his full attention. Before today, he might have asked for specifics -- statistics, metrics, engagement predictions. Instead, he simply asked, "How are you feeling about it?"

She paused in the entryway, she couldn't remember the last time Jon had asked how she was feeling. A smile formed on her lips, tears already threatening to appear. "Good, I think. Michael... We work well together." Professionally, she should have added, but didn't. Of course she meant professionally, there was certainly nothing else they did together she enjoyed.

She squirmed where she stood, flexing her thighs together determined to ignore the heat building there. She watched Jon's face for a flicker of jealousy at Michael's name, the tightening around the eyes she'd grown accustomed to. It didn't come. Instead, he patted the couch beside him.

"Come sit. You look exhausted."

She sank onto the cushion, keeping a careful few inches between them. Her body, still alive with the ghost of Michael's touch, felt like a betrayal in itself. Her hands went to her lap, spinning her wedding ring before Jon reached for her causing her head to fall onto his shoulder.

"I need to tell you something," she said, feeling the muscles in his shoulder as she rested her head.

"Fireball wants us to visit their headquarters... In New Orleans." Her throat was tight, as she waited for the follow up questions from Jon that would send her into a spiral of confessions. "Tomorrow. For a couple days."

"Us?" Jon asked.

"Me and Michael," she clarified, unwilling to look him in the eye.

Jon was quiet for a long moment, processing. When he finally spoke, his response knocked the air from her lungs.

"That's fantastic, Wendy. What an opportunity. Think of all the connections you can make while you're there."

She finally met his gaze, searching his face for sarcasm or hidden frustration. Her gut twisted with guilt when she saw there was none.

"You... think I should go?"

Jon nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Absolutely. I mean, I'll miss you, but you're so good with people. Getting face time with them will be sure to win them over. In fact, studies suggest there's..." he paused, something else was on his mind. Wendy studied him, was he finally putting the pieces together? Did he see through her lies? "You've worked hard for this opportunity. I'm glad you're finally getting the recognition you deserve."

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. He was trying so hard to be supportive, to trust her, while she sat beside him with another man's scent still clinging to her skin.

"I wasn't sure you'd want me to," she admitted.

Jon pressed his lips to her head, kissing her softly. "You were right before, about me not supporting you" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I realized today I rely too much on the data at times and don't give you enough credit. You're amazing at your job, Wendy. I'm glad it's being recognized."

Each word was a knife twist. Wendy swallowed hard against the confession building in her throat. Jon reached out, gently brushing away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.

"Hey, what's wrong? I thought you'd be excited."

"Just... overwhelmed," she managed. "It's been an intense day."

Jon pulled her into a hug that she didn't realize she needed. She wanted to bury herself in his touch, his scent. She inhaled deeply, not wanting to let him go.

"I need to shower" she finally said. "Want to join me?"