ViennaMata

Andrew

I left. I can't believe I'm leaving that house without her. I'm sure she thought I would stay longer, but Jared droned on all night about how I need to give her space and respect her wishes. I want to do that—but not so much that she's gone for good.

I don't want to go back to an empty house, so I drive into work. I have to find a new secretary because I'm 100% sure mine was behind my security being "suddenly let go." I called the security company this morning on my way to Aiden's, and wouldn't you know it—they'd been told they were no longer needed after the wedding ceremony. Lucky for me, Stella hadn't told Becca the real wedding start time, so we actually made it through the ceremony. But she fucked up by playing along with this little show with Becca.

I walk off the elevator and onto the executive floor. Stella's eyes go wide like they're about to fall out of her head.

"Mr. St. Claire, I assumed you would be on your honeymoon! I wish you had let me know you'd be here today."

I turn my head, looking behind me, because she must be talking to someone else.

"My honeymoon with who, Stella? Because if your little plan had worked out, I'd be somewhere with... Becca, right?"

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I slowly walk up to her desk. She's sweating. Beads glisten along her hairline.

"N-n-no, Mr. St. Claire, I would never—"

I raise a hand to stop her because I hear something. Muffled sounds. From my office.

I tilt my head, straining to listen. Then glance at her.

"Is someone in my office?"

I head that way, and the sounds grow louder. Stella bolts from her chair, scrambling to get in front of me.

"Wait, Mr. St. Claire—I can explain—"

I gently move her aside. "I'm going to give you one last chance to tell me who is in my office and what the fuck is going on, Stella."

She exhales sharply, looking down at the floor as her shoulders start to shake. She's crying now, silent tears sliding down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. St. Claire."

I walk into my office and freeze.

No amount of my worst hallucination could have prepared me for this.

There's a man—my height, my build—wearing one of my Ermenegildo Zegna suits. That particular suit cost me $10,000. His pants—or my pants—are around his ankles, though I can't see them from the doorway. My white dress shirt is hanging open, my tie draped around his neck, as he pounds into Becca, who is bent over my desk.

She's wearing Claire's blouse.

And Claire's pencil skirt—hiked up around her ass.

I clear my throat.

"Sir, I'm giving you three minutes to get the fuck out of my office. Leave the suit on the floor, and if you get an ounce of bodily fluid on it, I will sue you so hard your great-grandkids will be paying it off."

I turn to Becca.

"Leave Claire's clothes next to the suit. Then get the fuck out. Becca, don't ever show up in or near my office again.

She opens her mouth to speak, but I walk out and slam the door shut behind me.

I turn to Stella.

"You're fired. Pack your shit and be gone by the time I get back."

She's sobbing now, nodding furiously, just as Becca bursts out of the office—naked.

"Drewy, baby, it's not what it looks like! I didn't cheat on you, baby!"

She turns on Stella.

"You bitch! You said he'd be gone today. You set me up! She did this to us, baby. I thought that was you! I thought you were him!"

I keep my gaze above her neckline.

"Really? I thought Stella told you I'd be gone? Becca, I don't give a fuck who you fuck—just don't do it in my office. Or in my wife's clothes. I'm going to have to burn my favorite suit and Claire's outfit. Now leave, and take midget dick with you."

I head to Jared's office to wait them out. He's inside, laughing so hard he's nearly wheezing.

"What the hell are you laughing at?"

He gasps, "I heard you get off the elevator, so I opened my door. Thought that was you and Claire in there—figured maybe you made up. But then I heard your voice in the lobby and... man, was I not disappointed."

He keeps laughing so hard I think he might shit himself.

He bursts into a fresh round of laughter. "Dude, she found your doppelgänger and put him in your clothes! I don't know how you haven't called social services or animal control or someone equipped to handle that psycho."

We watch as a naked Becca and her discount Drew are escorted out of my office. I guess Stella had to call security.

Jared and I walk toward my office—he's holding a can of Lysol and bleach wipes that appeared out of nowhere, and I'm trying not to step on any biohazards.

"God, I hope he gets tested often. I'm sure Becca has something transmissible. There's no way that kid is Roy's."

I'd told Jared what Becca told me in the car, and he doesn't think Roy is the dad either. He said he'd suspected Becca was up to no good that night, which is why he followed.

"Dude," he groans, "there are handprints—boob prints! I think I see an ass cheek on your desk! Either hire a crime scene clean-up crew or set fire to this place and build a new office."

I chuckle and yell for Stella, forgetting she's already fired.

"Fuck, I don't have a secretary."

I glance at the phone to make sure it hasn't been used for any kinky role play. It looks clean, but Jared stops me and douses it with Lysol before wiping it down.

I call HR

"Find me a new secretary. Preferably one with no ties to Becca. And get a cleaning service in here immediately. I want every surface sanitized. And have them burn the clothes on the floor, tell them to wear gloves."

When I hang up, Jared grins and heads to the door.

"Damn. What an emotional morning, huh? Your hot wife leaves you, your doppelgänger fucks your stalker in your office, you've got no secretary, and your best friend saves you from getting syphilis. We need lunch. I'm exhausted."

I narrow my eyes and shake my head. "You literally just Lysol'd my phone."

"And you're welcome. Otherwise, you might've had gonorrhea crawling through your fingertips. And whatever you got, you could've given Claire. Whatever Claire gets, she might give to me eventually—so really, I'm just looking out for my future self."

I shove him. "Shut the fuck up, dude. It's eight-thirty. Let's go get breakfast. Then we'll swing by Aiden's and drop off breakfast for Claire before we come back."

Jared smirks. "Great minds think alike. I, too, planned to bring Claire breakfast... maybe stay for lunch... and dinner... and breakfast again."

We reach my car. I unlock my door. Get in. And drive off—leaving his smug ass right there.

That asshole thinks I'm driving him after that?

My phone rings. I answer with a grin.

"Yes, Jared?"

"You really left me here, Drew? After all I've done for you?"

I chuckle. "Really, Jared?"

"Ugh, fine. I won't bring Claire breakfast. Just come back and get me—I'm feeling emotional, and I want a mimosa or three with my eggs. I can't drive myself, Drew."

I turn the car around. "I'm only coming back because you're my only friend. If I had more, I'd leave your ass right there."

Jared laughs. "I'll take what I can get, Drew."

25. Drew

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