The Man I Shouldn't Want: A Game of Seduction and Lies

13. The Secrets We Hide

I pace around the living room, my eyes constantly flicking to the front door in the hopes that I'll hear the bell ring any second. The penthouse feels too big, too quiet, making it hard to breathe.

Ric’s going to be here any minute, and I can barely keep my thoughts together. I straighten the pillows on the couch for the hundredth time, then smooth down my dress, wondering if I should’ve changed into something else. But the knot in my stomach tells me it won’t matter.

The bell rings, and my heart leaps into my throat.

I take a deep breath and walk to the door. When I open it, there he is. Ric. Those dark eyes lock onto mine immediately, and it feels like everything else falls away.

He steps inside without saying a word, closing the door behind him. His hand brushes my arm as he passes, a small, almost innocent touch, but it sends a wave of heat through me.

“Did you think about me?” His voice is low, smooth, the kind of tone that could melt steel.

I swallow hard, barely able to find my voice. “I couldn’t stop.”

Ric steps closer, his body brushing mine, and his hand lifts to cup my jaw. “Good,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing my lip. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

He leans in, his lips hovering just over mine. But before I can lose myself in the kiss, he pulls back slightly, his eyes narrowing.

“Who was that man you were talking to earlier?” The question is sharp, possessive. There’s a flicker of something dangerous in his tone, but it only makes my pulse race.

“Chris? He’s just an old co-star,” I say, caught off guard by the shift. “Why?”

“Because I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Ric says, his thumb brushing my lip again, silencing me. “Like he had a chance.”

I blink, a shiver running down my spine. I shouldn’t like this. I shouldn’t like the way Ric is possessive, the way he’s so intensely focused on me. But it makes me feel desired in a way I haven’t felt in years. My heart hammers in my chest, and I can’t deny that I want him more because of it.

“There’s nothing between us,” I say softly, placing my hand on his chest. “Only you.”

“Good. Because if you're just fooling around, you picked the wrong man,” he announces in a dangerously low whisper.

Satisfied, Ric pulls me closer, his lips crashing against mine with a hunger that leaves me breathless. I respond immediately, my fingers tangling in his hair as his hands grip my waist, pulling me against him.

Every inch of me is buzzing, desperate for more.

“I need you,” he breathes against my lips, guiding me backward toward the bedroom. “No more interruptions.”

I nod, barely able to think straight as he leads me to the door, pushing it open and pulling me inside. The room is dimly lit — it is probably a mess — but I don’t care about the surroundings. All I can focus on is Ric — the feel of his hands on my body, the way his breath hitches as I press closer to him.

“I don’t want anyone else showing up,” he murmurs, his voice rough, as his hands roam over me, making my skin burn with need.

He pushes me gently against the wall, his lips trailing down my neck, sending waves of heat through me. My fingers tug at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. His breath hitches when I reach the buttons, and he leans back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, discarding it on the floor.

“Darling, you have no idea of the dirty fantasies that consume me when I think of you,” he snarls.

My fingers trace his jaw with a tantalising softness. “Then show me just how far you're willing to go,” I mumble in a sultry whisper, laden with challenge and desire.

My eyes trail over him, taking in the sharp lines of his body, the strength in his shoulders, the way his muscles move with every breath he takes. He’s staring at me, his gaze intense and dark, and I can’t stop the thrill that runs through me. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me like this — like I’m something they need, something they can’t live without.

He closes the distance between us again, his hands slipping under the fabric of my dress before his fingers find the zipper, slowly pulling it down, and the anticipation builds with every inch of skin that’s exposed. His lips follow, grazing my collarbone, my shoulder, as my dress slips off my body and pools at my feet.

Ric’s hands are everywhere — on my hips, my back, sliding up to cup my breasts before his thumbs brush against my n*****s as he kisses me again, deeper this time, like he’s claiming me. I can feel the strength in his touch, the way he holds me firmly like I’m something precious.

His hands glide over my skin, tracing every curve, every line, like he’s memorising the feel of me. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against my ear, his voice rough, filled with a raw need that makes my legs tremble.

I pull him closer, needing more, needing him. My fingers work at his belt, tugging it free, and Ric lets out a low groan as I push his pants down.

We stumble toward the bed, Ric’s lips never leaving mine as we fall onto the mattress. He hovers over me, his eyes locked on mine, and there’s something in the way he looks at me — like he’s seeing every part of me, like nothing else matters — that makes my breath catch.

But just as we’re about to lose ourselves completely, I hear it — the unmistakable sound of the front door unlocking.

My body goes rigid beneath Ric, and his eyes narrow in confusion as I push him off, scrambling for my robe. “Someone’s here,” I whisper, panic seizing my chest, my breath coming in short gasps.

His eyes darken with irritation, but he steps back, letting me grab my robe. “Stay here,” I tell him, my voice trembling as I lock the bedroom door behind me. The last thing I need is anyone else walking in on us.

I walk down the hallway, my mind racing, and when I step into the living room, my heart sinks. Mike is standing there, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snap, pulling my robe tighter around myself. How dare he show up at my penthouse — that was once our home — after being wherever he was all these days?

“We need to talk,” he says, his voice low but steady.

I shake my head, feeling a surge of anger rise up. “We have nothing to talk about, Mike. You made your choices. Even tonight! The way you accused me of lying! You’re pathetic. Get out of here. I want to hear nothing from you!”

He steps closer, his eyes flicking to the floor before meeting mine again. “It’s about Hayley.”

“Who’s Hayley?” I snap before I can hold back.

The look in his eyes says it all. Hayley. The woman he cheated on me with. The one name I’ve tried to block out of my mind.

“Well, what about her?” I ask, folding my arms, my voice sharp, bracing for whatever excuse he’s about to give.

Mike takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “She’s pregnant.”

For a second, I can’t move. I can’t breathe. It feels like the world just dropped out from under me.

“W-What?” I barely manage to say, my voice weak.

For a moment silence echoes off the walls as Mike lowers his gaze to his feet. “It was supposed to be a one-night thing,” Mike finally says, his voice strained. “But she’s pregnant. I feel responsible.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. My vision blurs for a moment as the reality of what he just said sinks in. Pregnant. His mistress is pregnant.

“You feel responsible?” I echo, my voice rising with anger. “You feel responsible for getting the woman you cheated on me with pregnant?”

Mike flinches but doesn’t back down. “I didn’t plan for this, Nat. You know I didn’t.”

I laugh, the sound bitter and cold. “You didn’t plan for it? We planned for a family, Mike. We tried for months. And then you gave up too soon. And now you’re telling me the woman you slept with gets pregnant, just like that?”

The pain I’ve tried to bury for so long, the year of trying to have a baby, the failed attempts, the months of disappointment — it all rushes back, slamming into me with full force.

“We wanted kids from the start,” I say, my voice trembling. “I put my career on hold for us. For a family. And when it didn’t happen quickly, you pulled away. You stopped caring. Our marriage fell apart, and now, you’re telling me that she gets what I couldn’t?”

Mike’s face softens, guilt washing over him. “Natalie, that was not the reason. I didn’t mean for it to be like this.”

“Didn’t mean for it to be like this?” I choke out, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. “That’s it?”

I feel myself crumbling, the weight of everything I’ve been trying to hold together breaking me down. The anger, the grief, the betrayal — it’s all too much.

“You get to have the family we couldn’t,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Do you have any idea how that feels?”

Mike looks at me, his face pale. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He just stands there, as lost as I am, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand here and watch him feel sorry for himself.

“Get out,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around myself. “Just... get out.”

Mike hesitates, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer. Then he turns and walks toward the door. Just before he leaves, he pauses, his voice barely audible. “I love her, Natalie. I can’t help it.”

The door clicks shut, and I’m left standing in the middle of the living room, staring at nothing. My chest feels like it’s caving in, and I don’t know how to breathe. I’ve kept everything buried for so long, but now it’s all come flooding back, overwhelming me.

I head back to the room with slow steps, knowing Ric has heard it all. He’s sitting on the bed, his pants back on and his shirt unbuttoned. When he hears me come in, he glances up and the look in his eyes fuels my anger.

He looks sad for me. All the desire that he held is now gone, replaced by pity. By concern.

Gritting my teeth, I mumble weakly, “You should go.”

He stands up, and with two strides covers the distance between us, but when he holds my chin between his fingers, I shake my head. “Please. Just leave,” I plead.

“Don’t push me away, Natalie,” he whispers softly, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Please.”

I meet his eyes with fierceness, not wanting to appear feeble. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Ric’s eyes harden, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. He steps away, taking with him the warmth he offered. He turns back into the room and quickly gathers his things, and then proceeds to walk past me as if I don’t exist.

But he returns — only for a moment — but it sets my heart beating again. “I got you something. It’s on the bedside table,” he mutters in his rough voice before pressing a kiss in my hair, and walks out.