“You’re way too calm for someone whose sex video is in the hands of a snitch”I narrowed my eyes at Elena, my best friend and certified chaos enabler, who was lounging on my couch in fuzzy socks, her laptop perched dangerously close to her wine glass. The scent of microwave popcorn and body scrub filled my apartment.

She only knew about the video because I told her. Nobody at the office had mentioned anything so far even if they knew.

“Calm?” I dropped onto the couch beside her. “I’m barely holding it together. I screamed so loud in the shower earlier I scared the neighbors.”

“Yeah,” she said, clicking away at her keyboard. “You also screamed last night, and I’m pretty sure your echo is living rent-free in someone’s hallway.”

I rolled my eyes. “Glad to know I’m a local legend now.”

Elena smirked and twisted toward me. “Look, I’d tell you to relax, but you’re literally dating your boss. After he railed you against a floor-to-ceiling window.”

“I’m not dating him.”

She raised a brow. “Fine. You’re being owned by him like a limited-edition sports car.”

That was dangerously accurate.

“I didn’t plan for this,” I said quietly.

“No one plans for sin. That’s what makes it fun.” Elena chuckled.

I sipped my wine, nerves still buzzing from earlier. Roman had barely said a word after the leaked photo drama. Just gave me a short assurance that sounded more like a bossy order. After, he kissed me breathless and fucked me through my anxiety, then left.

And now I was stuck with the part he couldn’t fix with his hands.

“What do you know about Naomi?” I asked suddenly.

Elena’s head jerked up.

“Naomi? As in Naomi Grant?”

“Yeah. Why?”

She gave me a look like I’d asked her if water was wet.

“Skye… please tell me you know who she is.”

I frowned. “She works at Wolfe & Wolfe. I think she's Roman’s nanny or something and yeah, she's smug as hell.”

Elena blinked at me.

Then blinked again.

“You didn’t Google her?”

“No. Should I have?”

“Oh my God.” She grabbed her laptop, tapped quickly, and then turned the screen toward me.

There it was.

A glossy article.

"Wolfe Divorce Finalized in Private Mediation: Naomi Grant and Roman Wolfe Part Ways After High-Profile Marriage"

Shit! Have I been living under the rock? How have I not come across this?

I stared at the photo. Roman in a tuxedo. Naomi in a champagne gown. Both looking like royalty with knives behind their backs.

“She was his wife,” I whispered.

“Ex-wife,” Elena corrected. “But yeah. They were married for four years. No prenup. Quiet split. She still has shares in the company. And apparently… she’s not a fan of being replaced.”

I sat back, stunned.

How had Roman not told me this?

Why would he keep something so massive from me?

Elena poured me another glass. “I didn’t want to tell you unless you needed to know. But now that she’s lurking like a Bond villain, I figured you should be armed.”

“I appreciate the emotional weaponry,” I muttered.

“You sure he’s not still sleeping with her?”

I shot her a look.

“Sorry. I had to ask.”

My phone buzzed.

Roman: Meeting at headquarters. Now. I want you there.

I stood quickly. “He wants me at the office.”

Elena smirked. “Wear the lipstick that says you’d do it again.”

An hour later, at Wolfe & Wolfe Headquarters

I stepped off the elevator into silence.

I walked into the boardroom.

Roman was already there. Standing at the head of the table, jaw clenched, eyes sharp.

Naomi was seated at the other end, legs crossed, arms folded. Her expression unreadable.

When I entered, Naomi’s gaze flicked to me and stayed there.

Roman didn’t look at me.

Not immediately.

But I felt him the moment his eyes finally landed.

There was heat there.

But something colder too.

I walked to stand beside him.

Naomi’s voice sliced through the air. “How romantic. Presenting her like a new acquisition.”

Roman ignored her.

“Skye’s moving to a different division,” he said, addressing the room like he was issuing a verdict. “Effective immediately. She’s no longer under my direct supervision. That should satisfy any concerns about impropriety.”

I blinked. “Wait...what?”

Roman turned slightly toward me.

“You’ll be Head of Creative Strategy on the St. Lucia campaign. Better pay. Total independence.”

I stared at him, trying to keep my voice steady.

“You’re reassigning me.”

“I’m protecting you,” he said. “This way, they can’t touch you. And I can handle the fallout myself.”

Naomi gave a slow clap.

“How noble. Shame it’s a lie.”

Roman’s eyes snapped to her.

“What?”

Naomi stood, stepped forward, and placed both hands on the table like she was about to deliver a sermon.

Then she looked right at me.

“I didn’t come here to fight over a job. Or him. I came because something needs to be said.”

Roman narrowed his eyes. “Don’t.”

She ignored him.

“I’m pregnant.”

The room dropped into stillness.

No air.

No thought.

Nothing.

She smiled. It wasn’t warm.

“Three months along. Surprise.”

I swayed slightly.

Roman looked like the earth had been yanked from beneath his feet.

Naomi’s voice softened with mock sweetness. “I thought she deserved to know. Before you start assigning her offices and giving her titles you can’t even commit to.”