Henry is driving me back to my office and during the car ride I can't stop thinking about Athena's cum-soaked thong.

The way she smiled at me when I instructed her to wear it for the rest of the day and not take it off. The way I had her in the palm of my hand, molding her like a piece of clay. The genuine smile she gave me the moment I told her to unbuckle my belt.

Her hunger for my cock was undeniable. You just can't fake that.

Is she still wearing that thong?

Can she feel me between her legs during every meeting she takes, and every phone call she makes? And if so, does it make her stop mid-sentence and cause her words to catch in her throat?

Can she smell me as she moves across the room, like something wild beneath her skirt?

As these thoughts flash through my head, I can't help but smile.

Victory. Sweet fucking victory.

But just as quickly as that smile forms on my lips, it vanishes when my car pulls up to the front of my office building.

There's eight million fucking people walking around this city, but I catch a glimpse of a familiar man walking into my building, and it doesn't take much for me to recognize him. I could spot those high-arched caterpillar eyebrows from a mile away.

Ben Danvers.

What the fuck is he doing here? I watch as he enters the building.

He claps the security guard on the shoulder and by the way they're laughing, they seem to be sharing some private joke. Who the fuck does he think he is?

The way Ben is walking in, his chest puffed out in an exaggerated swagger, he's acting as if he owns the whole fucking place and that makes my blood boil. He has no business here.

I thought the fact that I nearly broke his face the last time he decided to come into my office would've been enough of a deterrent for him to never show up here again.

But I guessed wrong.

I hop out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me, and decide to follow him in, keeping a safe distance between us. That way, if I need to confront him, I can catch him off guard. Besides, my mind is raising about a thousand red flags and a hundred more alarm bells.

He's up to no good. I feel it in my bones.

Why else would he be here?

But despite my trepidation, I make it back to my office without an incident. I have no idea what floor he's on, or whose office he's visiting, but it isn't mine.

After he went up in the elevator, I never saw him again.

Not that that leaves me feeling any better.

In fact, it's just the opposite. My mind is fucking reeling.

As soon as I sit down at my desk, I flip open my laptop and begin opening up old files on my hard drive. I spend an hour sorting through folders that I haven't bothered opening in months, and then I see something that stops me cold.

It's an old news clip that I saved. I can't believe I forgot about this.

The headline reads: "Two CEOs Create Powerhouse Partnership."

What the fuck?

When I squint down at the picture, I see two people sitting at a table, staring at each other starry-eyed and locked in an embrace.

Those two people are none other then Athena Hawke and Ben Danvers.

Nothing in my life has prepared me for this feeling. I'm a man who needs to be in control. I need to control my environment—every fucking piece of it.

Seeing this feels like I've just stepped on a land mine, and came within inches of blowing myself up.

If it's one thing I don't have right now, it's control.

The realization solidifies in my mind. Athena and Ben were … a couple. It appears that they made some of the biggest business deals together in this city's history.

So, what's she doing with me?

I ball both of my hands into fists, and slam one hand down on top of my desk. The force of it makes a cup of pens clink against each other, and a stray piece of paper slides off the mahogany and onto the floor.

How could I be so fucking stupid?

Ben has always wanted to get back at me. Is this how he's finally succeeding in doing it? Is he using Athena to bring me down?

Are they both sitting back, and collectivity laughing at how gullible I've been?

I keep a heavy set of weights in my office for times like these—when I'm so fucking pissed I need to release it without breaking something.

I walk over to the weights and grab them, one in each hand. Then I tighten my muscles and curl, one rep after another until my biceps are burning and swollen under my button-up shirt. Even then I don't stop, rep, after rep.

Engage.

Curl.

Burn.

Release.

I can picture them now, Athena and Ben sharing a laugh over an over-priced cocktail. I can almost hear Ben saying, look at this guy, we laid a trap and he walked right into it. Who knew it was this easy pulling the wool over his eyes?

Curl.

Burn.

Release.

Yes, Athena must be working for Ben. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I'm such a fucking idiot.

Curl.

Burn.

It seems to be one woman after another that tumbles my life into chaos. But I need to stay focused. I refuse to let them sit back and have the last laugh at my expense.

I curl the weight in my arm, and instead of releasing it I hold the weight, feeling my muscles tense and burn across my entire bicep.

It looks like my cock has gotten me in trouble again. How many times am I going to allow that to happen?