The Alpha CEO’s Unloved Wife

Chapter 28

Hot and Cold 

“Out,” Angelique ordered.

Jane looked around her at the concrete and glass towers, the busy city street, the tightly packed pedestrian paths. “Where are we?”

“Oh, dopey Doris,” Angelique purred. “We are at the center of the universe. Get the f-k out the car and come along.”

She grabbed Jane by the elbow and propelled her into one of the glossy buildings, past the reception desk and into an elevator, and swiped a card before prodding the very top number on the long, long columns of numbers.

When the elevator opened, Angelique pushed Jane out into a lobby where the floor was the sort of slippery tile that every woman in high heel shoes viewed with dread, and past the receptionist who muttered into her headset even as her eyes followed Angelique’s passage into the bowels of the building.

They moved through a wide hallway flanked by meeting spaces and rooms where flustered looking people stared at computer screens in consternation, through to a double door, which Angelique shoved open with her hip before half throwing Jane into the chamber so that Jane staggered and fell.

Baron sat at a desk near a wall of windows and stood upon their entry, tugging his waistcoat down, his eyebrows pulling together, and Jane realised that the glossy tower was his building from which he ran all the various branches of his business: the center or the universe indeed.

“What the f-k Angelique?” He demanded, striding around his desk, and picking Jane up off the carpet.

can f-king f-k her to your heart’s desire, get her fat with your litter, so that we can get the f-k on with what we‘re here to do.” She turned on her heel and clipped out of the room before he could formulate a

Jane and offered her his hand. She refused it, standing by herself. “Jane…” He

do so, and saw the outline of her hand appear on his cheek white and then red. The force of the slap turned his face, and he seemed baffled for a moment, before

believe that this was a love match. I hate you for f-king raping me on our wedding night. I hate you for humiliating me by keeping a mistress after you married me. I hate you for

you continue,” he breathed into her ear. “But there is just so much to unpack from what you have said that I expect

from the beginning,” he released her mouth. “From how you thought that this was a

legs giving beneath it, bringing them both down onto the luxurious carpet, so that he curled

breathed into her ear.

not know when his stroking turned into sex, but, before she knew it, he had dragged her jeans down her legs and had thrusted into her, face down on the carpet of his office. She cried out, half in protest and half desire, and he lifted her hips into him as he drove himself

and then the sink of his weight over her. “So,” he breathed into her ear.

too hard to answer, the sobs shaking through her, ugly, snot filled tears as she pressed her face into his carpet. She cried until she passed out under him, aware

in the bed in the gold and cream room, alone, with the night pressing in around her, her pulse leaping in her head, the primal rhythm of its pounding

a dress, stroking its fabric down over her body, twisting and

her room, but the other voice was louder, and she wanted to dance somewhere with a dark beat, and other bodies

expression shifted. “Madam,” he said, his voice tight. “You need to return to your

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