He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Chapter 18: I Want His Job

Roxanne’s mind spun in a frantic circle as her eyes devoured the text on the glowing screen one more time.

She peered through the parting in the heavy velvet curtains at the idling luxury sedan, the rain-slicked pavement reflecting its harsh white headlights. Letting the fabric fall shut, she whirled away from the window, her knuckles turning white around her phone as she marched toward the bedroom door.

Whatever Richard had driven all this way to tell her that night had to be critical. But more importantly, his fine ass had arrived with flawless, wicked timing.

The moment she twisted the lock and swung the bedroom door open, Christian’s harsh, grating voice sliced through the upper hallway. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

Roxanne’s jaw tensed instantly. She drifted down the stairs like a ghost, the cold hardwood floor blurred beneath the soles of her slippers. Entering the expansive living room, she found him frantically pacing the Persian rug, his face flushed a violent, mottled crimson with sheer panic.

"Do you even understand the gravity of what you just did?" Christian barked into his phone, his chest heaving as he gestured wildly in the air, completely oblivious to her presence.

Roxanne didn’t offer him so much as a sideways glance, her eyes locked onto the heavy front exit. But the moment her hand wrapped around the brass deadbolt, the loud click shattered his distraction.

The room plunged into a suffocating silence.

"Where the hell do you think you’re going at this hour?" Christian demanded, his voice cracking as he took a step toward her.

Roxanne gritted her teeth, turning her head just enough to level a freezing, unbothered stare over her shoulder. "Rule number three, Christian. You do not have the right to ask me where I am going."

Before he could even process the venom in her tone, she slipped through the door and stepped out into the damp, cool night air. The late night breeze carried the sharp scent of oncoming rain.

Roxanne hurried down the paved driveway toward the sleek black Mercedes, her chest heaving. The moment her fingers brushed the cold chrome of the passenger handle, the electronic locks clicked open in invitation. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

She slipped inside, the heavy door sealing out the rest of the world with an expensive, muted thud.

The interior of the cabin was a dimly lit sanctuary of supple black leather and the intoxicating, commanding scent of Richard’s cedarwood cologne. Richard turned his head to look at her, his dark eyes hooded, his lips parting to speak.

But Roxanne didn’t want words. Fueled by a volatile mix of Christian’s betrayal and the raw, electric friction that always sparked between them, she lunged across the console. She threw her arms around his broad shoulders and crashed her lips against his in a desperate, ravenous kiss.

Richard didn’t resist. Not at first. He let out a low, gravelly groan into her mouth, his large hands immediately anchoring against her waist, pulling her flush against his solid chest as he kissed her back with a matching, deep hunger.

The sheer heat of him threatened to consume her completely, until his hands suddenly shifted, his massive fingers wrapping firmly around her forearms. With a slow, agonizing deliberateness, he pulled her back.

Roxanne furrowed her brows, a sharp spike of confusion and rejection flaring in her chest. "What’s wrong?" she whispered, her breathing ragged, her eyes desperately searching his dark, unreadable face.

"As much as I want to have you, right here, right now, that is not why I came," Richard murmured, his deep baritone vibrating through the quiet interior of the car. He kept a steady, grounding hand on hers.

"What does that mean?" she asked, reluctantly pulling completely back into her own seat, her skin tingling where his touch had just vanished.

Richard inhaled slowly. Without a word, he reached into the spacious backseat, retrieved a thick, heavy manila folder, and extended it across the leather divider. Roxanne looked at the stark white paper, then up into his piercing eyes. She frowned, her pulse doing a strange, nervous skip as she took the document from his hand.

She flipped it open under the soft, ambient glow of the dashboard lights, her eyes rapidly skimming the dense corporate wording. As she read, Richard clasped his hands over the steering wheel, his jaw tight.

"Christian made a terrible mistake on those international accounts," Richard stated, his voice smooth and completely clinical.

Roxanne froze, her gaze locking onto a specific set of disastrous financial projections, unauthorized commitments, mistakes that could cost the company millions. "How bad is this?" she breathed, looking back up at him.

"Bad enough that the board of directors wants him terminated and blacklisted immediately," Richard replied.

Roxanne didn’t say a word. She just kept her eyes glued to the evidence, a cold, mocking smirk slowly pulling at the corner of her lips as she shook her head. Oh, Christian... This is a rookie mistake.

Without her hidden genius reviewing his files, he had completely exposed his own incompetence within twenty-four hours.

"I am leaving this file entirely in your hands to do whatever it is you want with the information," Richard murmured, leaning closer, his gaze dropping to her mouth before locking onto her eyes. "But you only have tonight to decide, Roxanne. Because by nine a.m. tomorrow, Christian will be out on the pavement with his latest CV, entirely ruined."

Roxanne stared at him, her strategic mind violently clicking into place. "This is massive. If this leaks, it could cost Vance Enterprises millions in compliance issues," she whispered, her eyes darting back to the fraudulent charts.

Richard simply watched her, a look of profound, quiet fascination softening his rugged features.

Roxanne shook her head, turning her gaze out the heavily tinted passenger window. Right there on the ground floor of the penthouse, she could see Christian’s silhouette framed against the glass, frantically looking down into the dark street, trying to see who his wife was meeting.

She narrowed her eyes at his distant, pathetic shape, the image of his pregnant mistress flashing behind her eyelids. Exhaling a sharp, decisive breath, she snapped the folder shut and turned back to face Richard.

"I have an even better idea," she said, her voice dropping into a chilling, calculating register.

Richard’s dark brows pulled together instantly, a slow curiosity sparking in the depths of his eyes. "A better idea? You want to save him?"

"No." Her eyes never left the document.

Richard narrowed his eyes, trying to read her. "You want revenge?"

"No."

Richard frowned. "Then what do you want?"

Roxanne looked back toward the penthouse window where Christian’s silhouette still paced behind the glass. "I want him to watch me take everything he said I couldn’t have." She turned back to Richard. "I want his job."