Chapter 1: The Night I Tried to Seduce My Husband

Six months into marriage, I shot Julian Grant a text.

The evening air was heavy with that sticky, late-summer Chicago humidity, and my phone screen glowed in my palm. I shot off a text, casual as could be: "I'm going out to dinner tonight with five of my girlfriends. I won't be home."

He texted back, careful: "Will you still love me after you eat?"

I texted right back, breezy as ever: "Of course I love you. I'll love you forever."

Later, when Julian got the divorce papers, his eyes filled with tears.

When I heard Julian was back in the country, I was in a short skirt, dancing with my girlfriends at a bar in downtown Chicago.

The music thumped through the floorboards, neon lights strobing over the crowd. My friends and I claimed the VIP booth, our laughter drowning out the bass. I reached for my phone, ready to call an Uber, and hit pause on the playlist.

"Why aren't you dancing?" one of my girlfriends teased, arching her brows.

I grabbed my bag. "Julian's back."

My girlfriends traded looks, all mischief and knowing grins.

They stood up, patting my shoulder like co-conspirators.

"Think you can reel him in tonight?"

"Absolutely."

It's been six months, and we still haven't slept together.

He's avoided me for six months—I refuse to believe I can't get him tonight.

"Legend," they chimed in together, flashing me a thumbs up.

I gave myself a little fist pump for luck, then strutted out with my wavy hair bouncing.

City lights painted gold stripes across the sidewalk. I felt electric—heels clicking, hair swinging, the whole night humming with possibility.

My phone rang. Of course.

Julian's voice came through, low and cool. "Where are you?"

I softened my voice, pitching it sweet. "I'm getting a spa treatment."

No sooner had I finished than a familiar voice sounded behind me.

"Getting a spa at a bar? That's pretty wild, Mia."

I'm toast!

I stiffened, turning my head in slow motion, dread creeping up my spine.

Broad shoulders. Narrow waist. Long legs. Those sharp eyes, thin lips—and, okay, a perky butt. Who else could it be but my devastatingly handsome husband?

He looked completely out of place in the club's haze, all sharp edges and Wall Street cool. My heart did a little somersault.

"Babe~"

I switched gears fast, laying it on cute and trying to pounce on him. They say spoiled girls always get what they want, right?

But Julian just stepped back, silent, pressing two perfectly defined fingers to my forehead to hold me at bay. His gaze lingered on my bare waist.

I straightened up, scrambling to cover both sides with my hands.

Only then did Julian's face relax, just a bit.

"Miss Carter, do you remember what you said to me when we had the arranged marriage? Need me to remind you?"

"It's really unexpected to see you here, Mia."

I laughed awkwardly, looking down. Honestly, this wasn't unexpected at all—I owned the bar. Julian just didn't know, because I'd kept up my persona so well in front of him.

The irony wasn't lost on me. I was the secret boss here, but in front of Julian, I kept playing the part of the obedient, innocent wife. Sometimes I wondered if he'd ever see through me.

Julian and I? We're a business arrangement.

My family's loaded, his is even richer. We married for the good of both families.

From then on, we became the wealthiest couple in Chicago.

But he has no idea I've had a secret crush on him for five years.

Why keep it a secret? Mostly because it's got perks—you can quietly have a thing for several people at once and never get caught.