Perfect CEO

“Don't hate me, Patrick, please? I don't care who else does, but I care if you do.”

It was a ludicrous sight; though Patrick was seated across from her, she was addressing the seat to his left. Occasionally, she would dissolve into a fresh bout of tears. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Patrick pressed his hands together and rested them on the table. There was a vague smile on the corners of his lips.

“So, you're saying you only want to do it with me?”

With a wicked smile, he uttered those explicit words.

He knew that she was so drunk that she would not remember any of it when she awoke the following morning, so he thought it safe to tease her.

Gwendolyn nodded. “Yes. Only with you.”

He smiled, looking very pleased.

Being propositioned by a married woman who had remained chaste for him was a very pleasant surprise.

As he had not yet let go, she remained his.

I don't care who she's married to, she's still mine.

Whether or not they broke up remained his call to make.

Just then, the door to the private room flung open. Zayden strode in, looking livid.

Then, the door slammed shut, barring the curious faces outside from peeping in.

Gwendolyn sensed an urgent gust of wind whip past her, then felt a vice grip clamping down so tightly on her shoulder that it hurt her.

“Ouch! That hurts.”


“Ouch! That hurts.”

Despite her cry, the man remained unmoved. Instead, he yelled at her, “What are you doing here, Gwendolyn? Alone with him in a private room, no less! Don't forget who you currently are, Mrs. Surrington.”

Gwendolyn froze at the sound of her title. She had never really paid attention to what it meant, and hearing it at that moment brought her whole world crashing down.

The flicker of hope that had arisen only a moment before was stamped out once again.

Patrick's expression also shifted. It was plain that the salutation displeased him immensely.

This fellow snatched Gwen away when I wasn't around. What a dirty, underhanded tactic. One of these days, we will go head-to-head, fair and square.

Just when Zayden was about to drag Gwendolyn away, he shot a glare at the man seated across from them. Upon noticing the jacket draped over Gwendolyn's shoulders, he did a double-take.

Patrick was only wearing a black shirt. Immediately, Zayden knew that the jacket belonged to him.

Zayden tore the jacket off her, flung it to the ground, and stomped on it.

“Gwendolyn is my wife, Mr. Lowen. Please watch yourself. Never ask her out to dinner again without my permission.”

After his vehement speech, he gave Patrick the finger and mouthed the word, “Loser.”

Patrick merely gazed at him indifferently. He looks so pleased with himself, but what kind of marriage is he having? Gwendolyn already told me everything just now.