Page 94 of The Temporary Bride

Nobody talks about my wife like that. Fucking nobody.

Chapter 33

Chloe

“Hey, Dad. Is this an okay time?”

My father looks up from his desk inside his spacious corner office. He requested earlier this morning that I stop by to update him on the progress of the joint venture with Thorne Enterprises. I stopped briefly in my office to check my email before heading over here.

“Of course, of course. Come in.”

I step inside, closing the door behind me. The walls of his office are adorned with framed accolades, reminders of the legacy he’s built here. I take a seat across from him, keeping my gaze straight to avoid looking at any of the awards or headlines. I’ve always found them intimidating.

“So…” My father taps his index finger on the side of his coffee thermos. “Let’s talk Thorne Enterprises.”

“Things are progressing well,” I tell him. “We’ve managed to iron out most of the initial kinks, and the collaboration has been smooth. We’ve finalized the purchase of the lot for Eclipse Studios, so everything’s on track.”

“And in terms of content?”

“We’ve been running numbers, courting directors. We want to start with a bang. Projects that will make a splash and be award contenders right out of the gate.”

As I speak, I feel a slight twinge in my chest, an ache of ‘what if.’ For a moment, I’m transported back to when I once dreamed of directing, imagining myself behind the camera, bringing stories to life.

He nods in approval, although his even expression doesn’t change. “Just remember to leverage our company’s strengths in this joint venture. We need to ensure we’re getting as much out of it as possible.”

I force a tight smile. “Absolutely, Dad. I’m keeping that in mind with every decision we make.”

“Good.” He leans back in his chair. “We’ve invested a lot into this. Make it worth our while.”

“Of course.” I nod, my throat feeling slightly constricted. “I won’t let you down.”

He offers a brief, cool smile of his own. “I know you won’t.”

After leaving my father’s office, I return to my own, feeling the familiar blend of frustration and determination that always follows our meetings. His high expectations are a constant pressure, one that I strive to meet but never quite seem to live up to.

I sit down at my desk, ready to dive back into my work, when my phone buzzes with a new message.

TRISTAN: Just thinking about how delicious breakfast was this morning. Can’t wait for seconds tonight. ;-)

A little shiver goes up my spine, and despite the stress of work, I have to bite my lip to keep from smiling.

ME: You’re insatiable.

TRISTAN: Only with you. What are you up to after work?

ME: Headed to the gym.

ME: Wish me luck, hopefully Iris won’t be there.

I typically run into Iris and her gaggle of friends in the afternoon, so it doesn’t bode well. I swear, they’re like vultures, always circling, waiting for an opportunity to swoop in with some snide remark or passive-aggressive comment.

It used to make my gym visits feel more like a chore than a refreshing break, but as things heat up between me and Tristan, it’s become easier to ignore Iris and her antics.

I spend the rest of the workday feeling buoyed by the thought of Tristan, his messages still lingering in my mind. Once I’m finished in the office, I pack my gym clothes into a bag and call a car to take me to the health center.

I step out of the car, my gym bag slung over my shoulder, and make my way into the gym. Inside, the familiar scent of sweat and cleaning solution greets me as I head toward the locker rooms.

Changing into my gym clothes, I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for whatever encounter awaits me with Iris. Ideally, she won’t be here, but I have to assume that she will.