He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

Chapter 25: Circus On The Ninth Floor

Richard looked at her in silence for a long moment. Then, he stood up and walked toward her.

Roxanne swallowed hard, her throat bobbing as his tall frame closed the distance. Her pulse pounded wildly in her ears. What is he about to do?

Richard stopped right in front of her. He perched casually on the edge of the mahogany table, right next to where she sat, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling whisper. "We will have to keep things completely professional in the office," he said, keeping his voice down so it wouldn’t carry past the walls.

Roxanne nodded, staring up at him. "Of course," she whispered, her throat suddenly dry. "We have to be professional."

Richard held her gaze, then gave a slow nod. "I’m glad you agree."

Before Roxanne could even breathe, he leaned down. His large hand lifted her jaw, his warm thumb sliding along her skin as he pressed his lips firmly against hers.

Roxanne didn’t hesitate. She kissed him back deeply, letting her tangled emotions melt into the sudden, fierce heat of his mouth. For a few intoxicating seconds, the professional room vanished.

His hand began to slide up her arm, but he suddenly froze, forcing his own discipline to kick in. He pulled his mouth away. Both of them kept their eyes closed for a painful second, their ragged breaths mingling, both clearly aching for more.

Then Richard opened his eyes, his mask of iron control slipping back into place. "Now, we can be professional in this space."

Roxanne stared at him, her heart racing. Why did this man have the power to unravel her so effortlessly? Still, she managed a tight nod.

Richard pushed himself off the table, straightening his shoulders. "I want to see you at the club tonight," he said, his voice back to its cool, commanding tone. "I have a very important question to ask you."

"A question?" Roxanne murmured, her lips parting in surprise.

"Yes," Richard said, his dark eyes flashing. "But I will only ask it at the club. Not here."

Roxanne opened her mouth to argue, but Richard had already adjusted his sharp suit jacket and turned toward the exit. She followed him out of the conference room, her mind spinning. As they walked down the corridor, the silence between them was thick with a heavy sexual tension that felt dangerous to touch.

They walked toward the executive elevator. But just as they drew close, the sharp chime of the elevator bell echoed through the quiet lobby. Both of them frowned.

The steel doors swooshed open, and the peaceful atmosphere was instantly shattered by the aggressive clicking of camera shutters.

Richard’s face hardened to stone. Beside him, Roxanne’s chest heaved as panic flared in her veins.

Christian stepped out of the elevator, followed by a small crowd of reporters and photographers. He held a massive, colorful bouquet of flowers in his hands as he marched directly toward her.

Roxanne’s frown deepened into absolute disgust. Before Christian could get close, Richard stepped forward, his massive frame completely blocking Roxanne from view as his hands curled into tight fists.

"What is the meaning of this ruckus, Westbrook?" Richard demanded. His voice was terrifyingly calm, but it vibrated with immense power. "And on the ninth floor. How dare you bring this circus here?"

Christian smiled, completely unfazed. "I know this is your sacred executive floor, Mr. Vance, and that is exactly why this moment is so important."

He turned his face toward the flashing cameras, raising his voice for the reporters. "I want to use this opportunity to show the world, and everyone in this building, just how much I love my wife. I want her to forgive me for how I behaved at the gala."

Behind Richard’s broad shoulders, Roxanne’s heart hammered with white-hot anger. freēwebnovel.com

Christian looked past Richard, his tone casually dismissing the billionaire. "Sir, can you please step aside and let love lead?"

Richard’s jaw clenched, ready to unleash his fury, but Roxanne reached out. She pressed a gentle hand against his lower back, silently signaling him to hold back. Richard paused, his muscles tense under his suit, before he slowly stepped to the side. He didn’t say a word, but his dark eyes watched her intently.

Christian stepped into her space. "My darling wife, Roxanne," he said, his voice dripping with fake devotion as he held out the flowers. "Please forgive me for everything. I love you so much."

Roxanne glared at him, her jaw locked tight. The pathetic fool, she thought, her stomach turning. Even a blind person could see through this desperate publicity stunt. He had so much more to apologize for than a single bad night at a gala, he had spent years crushing her spirit.

She flicked her eyes to Richard. His gaze was locked onto Christian, his jaw clenched so hard it looked painful. She swallowed the lump of anxiety in her throat.

Before she could fully process the scene, Christian took a final step forward and dropped down on one knee. He extended the bouquet upward, holding it out like an offering while the cameras flashed aggressively.

Roxanne stood frozen, looking down at the man who had hurt her so deeply, now looking so small and pathetic at her feet.

"Take it!" a reporter from the back shouted.

"Take it!" another voice joined in. Within seconds, the chant grew louder, echoing off the marble walls of the executive lobby.

Roxanne’s eyes instinctively flew to Richard. Their gazes locked. His expression didn’t plead, it didn’t demand. He simply watched her. Like he was waiting. Not for her to choose him, but for her to choose the woman she wanted to become.

She tore her eyes away from him, looking down at Christian’s expectant smile, and then at the cheering crowd.

For the first time in her life, nobody was going to make a decision for her. Everyone was waiting. Christian. Richard. The media. The entire building.

Roxanne slowly curled her hands into tight fists at her sides. Then, she forced a smile, bright, flawless, and completely terrifying.

"Christian," she said sweetly. "I am so glad you came."

The color immediately drained from his face.