Her Best Friend's Wife

The meeting at nine o’clock went better than Lita could have imagined.

Marcus’s office was all glass and steel, perched on the top floor with a view of the entire city. Lita sat across from him, her updated resume on his desk, while he asked questions that had nothing to do with her typing speed or phone etiquette.

Tell me about a time you had to solve a problem with limited resources, he said, leaning back in his leather chair.

She could sense the coldness in his question. This didn’t sound like the man who had praised her just yesterday.

Lita thought of a thousand moments in her entire life that had involved solving problems with limited resources. She chose one, kept it professional, and watched his eyes sharpen with interest as she spoke.

By the time she left his office an hour later, everything had changed.

I’m creating a new position, Marcus had said. Junior project coordinator. You’d work directly with me on client relations, help manage communications, and learn the business from the inside. It’s not a huge jump in salary, but it’s a start. And if you’re as capable as I think you are, it won’t be junior for long.

Lita had accepted before he even finished speaking. It wasn’t just a promotion; it was a lifeline. The raise would finally let her pay her mother’s long-overdue medical bills.

Now, three weeks later, she was living in a different world.

The reservation is under Thorne Marcus said, handing his keys to the valet as they stepped out of his Mercedes. “We’re meeting the Hartwell executives for dinner.

Lita smoothed her new dress, purchased with Marcus’s corporate car, for “appropriate business attire.” She’d protested, feeling it was too expensive and she didn't deserveit’dd waved it off. You’re representing my company now. Consider it an investment.

The restaurant was the kind of place she used to walk past and never imagined entering. Crystal chandeliers, white tablecloths, prices on the menu that made her stomach clench, even though she wasn’t paying.

Relax, Marcus murmured as they walked in. You’ve earned this.

Had she really earned this?

Three weeks ago, she’d been answering phones. Now she was dining with executives, gliding through the city in luxury cars, wrapped in clothes that cost more than her old rent. The transition was dizzying, too fast, too polished, and somewhere deep in her gut, something whispered that it was all too good to be true.

But Marcus made it feel natural. He included her in conversations, asked her opinion, and trusted her instincts. And he was teaching her about business, about strategy, about how to navigate the world he inhabited.

The dinner went smoothly. Lita found herself contributing ideas, making the Hartwell executives laugh, playing the role Marcus needed her to play. When they left three hours later, a major contract secured, Marcus was smiling.

“You were perfect,” he said as they drove through the city lights. Did you see Henderson’s face when you suggested the quarterly review structure? He loved it.

I wasn’t sure if I was overstepping.ng.

You weren’t. That’s exactly why you’re here. He glanced at her, something warm in his expression. You have good instincts, Lita. Better than half the people who’ve been in this business for years.

The praise made her glow. This was what she’d been working toward: recognition, respect, a place where her intelligence mattered more than her past.

Thank you, she said quietly. For the opportunity. For believing I could do this.

I knew you could the moment I saw you handle Whitmore. His voice softened. There’s something about you. The way you move through challenges like they’re just… steps to climb. Not obstacles. Steps.

The car fell silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Lita watched the city pass by, saw the old neighborhood in the distance, felt the vast gulf between who she’d been and who she was becoming.

She should have been purely happy. She was happy.

So why did Damian’s face keep appearing in her thoughts?

She hadn’t told him about the dinners. About the car rides, the expensive lunches, the way Marcus sometimes looked at her like she was something precious he’d discovered. She’d mentioned the promotion, of course, but not the rest. Not the texture of this new life.

Because she knew what he’d say. Knew he would see danger where she saw opportunity.

You’re quiet, Marcus observed.

Just thinking.

About?

About how strange this all is. How fast everything has changed.

Marcus pulled up outside her apartment buil,d ing mdest, but a universe away from the tenement where she’d grown up. He put the car in park, but didn’t move to let her out.

Change isn’t always bad, he said. Sometimes it’s exactly what we need. What we deserve. He paused, then added, I’m glad you took a chance on this. On me.

There was something in his voice, something that made Lita’s heart beat faster. Not fear, exactly. Anticipation. The sense of standing at a threshold.

Goodnight, Marcus, she said, reaching for the door handle.

Lita. He caught her hand gently. Same time tomorrow? The Brennan contract presentation.

I’ll be ready.

He smiled, released her hand, and waited until she was inside before driving away.

Lita climbed the stairs to her apartment, her mind spinning. She needed to talk to Damian. Needed to share this confusion, this excitement, this vague sense that she was standing on the edge of something she didn’t fully understand.

But when she pulled out her phone, she hesitated.

Because she knew what this conversation would sound like. Knew that Damian would hear every detail and see manipulation instead of mentorship. Would see Marcus as a threat instead of an opportunity.

And part of him, a part she didn’t want to examine too closely, didn’t want Damian’s warnings to tarnish what she was building.

She put the phone away and went inside.