She Satisfies My Millions to Her Secret Lover , So I Made Them Kiss at the Gala

I asked my wife why the company's books didn't add up — a full million dollars had vanished into thin air.

She laughed it off. She'd given Jordan Dickerson a million-dollar bonus.

My brow furrowed. "A decision that big, and you didn't think to run it by me?"

She said Jordan had earned every penny. On their recent overseas business trip, he'd fought off muggers to save her life.

That million was what Jordan deserved.

I had no objections.

The night of the company gala arrived.

To liven things up, the first event of the evening was themed "Ten-Second Kiss." Two names would be drawn at random.

When the names appeared on the big screen, the entire ballroom went deathly silent.

Jordan Dickerson.

Myra Gilbert.

Jordan was the first to react. The color drained from his face. He scrambled to his feet on his crutch, waving his free hand. "Boss, please don't misunderstand — I would never have any inappropriate thoughts about your wife!"

I stood, walked over to him, and smiled as I took the crutch from his hand. "Relax. I arranged this specifically for you."

……

Silence.

The room went still as a grave.

Everyone thought they'd misheard.

Myra Gilbert was my wife.

And I'd just arranged for her to kiss an employee for ten seconds?

What kind of insanity was this?

While every pair of eyes in the room locked onto me, Jordan stood trembling. His throat worked through a painful swallow.

Then a smile crawled onto his face — the kind that looked worse than crying.

"Boss, have I done something wrong at work recently?"

"Don't worry, my foot's almost healed."

"The doctor said one more week, tops."

"Then I'll be back to normal."

"I swear I'll work twice as hard."

"I'll never let the company down. I'll never betray your trust."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Jordan's competence was no secret. Technically, he was just Myra's personal assistant, tasked with helping her manage the company's finances. But his connections had landed the firm several major contracts all on their own.

A talent like that deserved recognition. Instead, I'd pulled this stunt at the gala.

Was it a joke? A deliberate warning?

Or was it something else entirely — a petty man who couldn't stand to see someone shine?

While speculation churned through the room, the sharp click-click-click of heels cut through the silence.

Myra Gilbert walked toward us in a black evening gown.

Every gaze snapped to her.

She stopped in front of us, her face dark as a storm cloud. Her cold stare settled on me.

"Luke, even jokes have a time and place."

"Who said I was joking?"

"You deliberately arranged for me to kiss Jordan for ten seconds?"

"I did."

I smiled and nodded.

"I'm your wife."

"And you want me to kiss another man?"

"Are you out of your mind, or am I?"

Myra's chest heaved with barely contained fury.

She was fighting — visibly fighting — to hold herself together, to keep the rage locked behind her teeth.

"Think ten seconds is too short?" I said.

"Let's make it twenty."

I watched them both with a lazy grin — Myra frozen in disbelief, Jordan rooted to the spot like a man staring down a firing squad.

The rest of the company had gone blank. The entire ballroom was silent enough to hear a pin drop. Jaws hung open. Every single person stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

A long moment passed.

Myra's teeth sank into her lower lip so hard the skin went white. Her delicate face, lightly touched with makeup, had turned black as coal.

"Luke Cobb, have you completely lost it?"

"Lost it?"

"Maybe."

"But..."

I glanced at the two of them, and a slow smile spread across my face.

"Isn't this exactly what you both wanted?"