Chloe's Pov

"You can't be serious, Chloe. You actually signed with him?"

Derek's voice cracked like a teenager's. His face was red and blotchy, nothing like the confident man I'd married. I felt nothing looking at him. Not anger, not sadness. Just emptiness.

"I made a choice," I said calmly. "Something you should have done months ago."

"But I had a plan! Marcus Rivera was going to help us..."

"Marcus Rivera was going to help you steal my trust fund." I turned away from him. "I know everything, Derek."

Mr. Zhang leaned back in his chair, watching us like we were entertainment. "Derek, you're interrupting a business meeting."

"Business meeting?" Derek laughed wildly. "You're stealing my wife!"

"I'm not stealing anything. Your wife made her decision freely." Mr. Zhang's voice carried that edge of authority that made my spine straighten involuntarily. "Something you've never allowed her to do."

"Chloe, please. Think about this. He's manipulating you just like you think I did."

I finally looked at Derek directly. "The difference is, he's being honest about it."

Derek's face crumpled. For a second, I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Security will escort you out," Mr. Zhang said, pressing a button on his desk. "Don't attempt to contact Mrs. Martinez again."

"You can't keep me from my own wife!"

"Actually, I can. Check the contract she signed. Harassment of my employees is grounds for immediate legal action."

Two men in black suits appeared so quickly they must have been waiting outside. They flanked Derek but didn't touch him yet.

"Chloe, this isn't you," Derek pleaded as they guided him toward the door. "You're not the type to just give up on our marriage."

"You're right," I said quietly. "I'm not the type to give up. But I am the type to know when something is already dead."

The door closed behind them with a soft click. Suddenly the office felt enormous and very quiet.

"That was cold," Mr. Zhang said, and I couldn't tell if he approved or not.

"He deserved worse."

"Agreed." He stood and walked around his desk, stopping just close enough that I caught a hint of his cologne. Something expensive and subtle. "But now we need to discuss the practicalities of our arrangement."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that you're currently wearing a waitress uniform to what is essentially your first day as a executive assistant."

I looked down at my polyester dress and sensible shoes. They seemed even more pathetic next to his tailored suit.

"I don't exactly have a corporate wardrobe."

"I'm aware. Which is why we're going shopping."

"Shopping?"

"You represent me now, Chloe. That means you need to look the part." His eyes traveled over me in a way that wasn't quite inappropriate but made my skin warm anyway. "We'll start with the basics. Suits, dresses, shoes that cost more than your monthly rent."

"I don't need you to buy me clothes."

"Yes, you do. Unless you plan to attend board meetings in polyester."

The way he said it wasn't mean, just matter-of-fact. Like he was explaining why water was wet.

"Fine. But I pick what I like."

"Within reason." He moved to his desk and pulled out a black credit card. "This has a fifty-thousand-dollar limit. Try not to use it all in one store."

I stared at the piece of plastic. "Fifty thousand dollars? For clothes?"

"For six months of appropriate attire. Plus shoes, accessories, and whatever else you need to do your job properly."

"What exactly is my job? You never really explained."

Mr. Zhang sat on the edge of his desk, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to look at him. "You'll manage my calendar, attend meetings, handle correspondence. You'll accompany me to dinners, galas, business functions. Think of yourself as my public face."

"Like a secretary."

"Like a partner." The word hung between us again, loaded with implications. "The difference is, a secretary follows orders. A partner offers opinions."

"And if my opinions conflict with yours?"

"Then we'll discuss it. I'm not Derek, Chloe. I don't need a yes-woman."

The way he said my name made something flutter in my chest. Which was ridiculous. The man had basically bought me from my husband three hours ago.

"When do I start?"

"Now. We have dinner with potential investors at eight. That gives us..." He checked his watch. "Four hours to make you presentable."

"Presentable?"

"Devastating." His smile was sharp and confident. "I want every man in that restaurant to wonder how I got so lucky, and every woman to wonder what they're doing wrong."

Heat crept up my neck. "That's not really appropriate—"

"Chloe." He stood and moved closer, close enough that I had to resist the urge to step back. "You're going to learn that very little about our arrangement follows normal workplace rules."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't do anything halfway. When I acquire something valuable, I make sure it reaches its full potential."

"Acquire something? I'm not a business asset."

"Aren't you?" His eyes held mine steadily. "You signed a contract giving me exclusive rights to your time, your presence, your skills. In the business world, that's called an acquisition."

My mouth went dry. "You're enjoying this."

"I'm enjoying watching you realize what you're capable of." He moved away, giving me space to breathe again. "Derek kept you small, Chloe. Made you think you were lucky to have him. But I've seen your academic records, your test scores, your professors' recommendations. You're brilliant."

"Derek didn't make me do anything. I chose to support him."

"Because he made you believe that was love. Real love doesn't require you to disappear."

The words hit harder than I expected. I'd been disappearing, hadn't I? One compromise at a time, one sacrifice at a time, until I barely recognized myself.

"Why do you care?"

"Because I need someone brilliant working for me. Someone who can think on their feet, handle pressure, make decisions. Derek wasted your potential. I intend to develop it."

"For your benefit."

"For both our benefits." He picked up his suit jacket from the back of his chair. "Ready to go shopping?"

"I need to go home first. Get some things."

"No." The word was flat, final. "You live with me now. We'll send someone to collect whatever you need from the apartment."

"I can't just abandon my life..."

"What life? Working double shifts to pay rent on a place where your husband brings home STDs and gambling debts?"

"How did you..." I stopped. Of course he knew about Derek's other women. He probably knew about everything.

"The penthouse has everything you'll need. Bedroom, bathroom, living area. Complete privacy when you want it."

"And when you don't want me to have privacy?"

His smile was dangerous. "Then you won't have it."

A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with fear.

"This is insane," I muttered.

"This is business. Very profitable business, if you're smart about it."

"And if I'm not?"

"Then you'll learn to be. I don't accept failure, Chloe. From myself or my employees."

"Partners," I corrected. "You said partners."

"I did." He held out his arm like we were going to a social function instead of shopping for my new life. "Shall we?"

I looked at his offered arm, then at the contract on his desk with my signature still drying. Six months. I could survive six months of anything.

But as I took his arm and felt the solid strength beneath his expensive suit, I wondered if the real question was whether I'd want to survive it.

The elevator doors opened to reveal Derek standing in the lobby, his face wild with desperation.

"I called the police," he shouted across the marble floor. "They're coming to arrest you for kidnapping!"

Mr. Zhang's grip on my arm tightened slightly. "Interesting. Did you tell them about your theft and fraud charges?"

Derek's face went white. "What theft charges?"

"The ones being filed as we speak." Mr. Zhang smiled coldly. "I believe the statute is fifteen to twenty years for corporate espionage."

As if on cue, two actual police officers walked through the glass doors behind Derek.

"Derek Martinez?" one of them called out. "You're under arrest."