Chapter 3

3.

“Take it easy, Chloe…” Trevor murmured, reaching out to steady her, his sleazy hand brushing dangerously close to her waist.

My knuckles turned white against the edge of the table. The audacity of this son of a bitch was unreal.

“Come on, babe, let me help you get some rest in bed,” I said, playing the doting husband as I scooped up my thoroughly wasted wife.

Chloe leaned limp against my chest, muttering incoherently, “Harlan… the room is spinning…”

I carried her into the bedroom, gently laid her down onto the mattress, and turned to Trevor, who had followed right behind me.

I gave him a subtle nod. “Trevor, make yourself comfortable for a minute. I’m going to fetch her a glass of warm honey water.”

Trevor nodded with an eager gleam in his eye, watching me step outside.

I pulled the bedroom door shut, walked into the living room, and pulled out my phone.

I opened the nanny cam app synced to the bedroom monitor.

On the screen, Trevor was already pacing toward the bed, his hungry gaze scanning Chloe’s half-exposed, tangled body with filthy desire.

I stared at the screen, my eyes bloodshot like a cornered beast.

Watching Trevor slobber over my wife made me want to vomit, but this was a deal I had arranged with my own hands. It was too late to back out now.

Trevor planted messy kisses all over Chloe’s delicate face before tearing off his shirt to show off his gym body.

He was pathetic compared to me, but under his tailored suits, he actually had some decent muscle.

My chest burned with fury―even I hadn't seen Chloe dressed like that in years.

He moved down to lick and nip at her slender neck. Chloe kept her eyes squeezed shut, letting out soft, involuntary moans, clearly having lost all conscious control.

His heavy hands roamed freely over her curves, tearing my sanity to shreds.

Chloe was usually so reserved and quiet with me in bed, but under Trevor’s touch, she was squirming and whimpering.

The sound filled me with an unbearable mix of white-hot rage and twisted arousal.

“God, Chloe, you’re incredible…” Trevor panted, his mouth working down her chest while I gripped my phone so hard the screen nearly cracked.

He began peeling away the sheer lace apron, exposing every inch of her stunning body.

Trevor was rutting like a rabid dog, ready to plunge right in.

Deep inside me, a dark, perverse flame ignited, leaving my throat parched and my pulse racing with an unspeakable thrill.

Right at that moment, a sharp knock rattled the front door.

I froze. Who the hell would show up right now?

My heart slammed into my throat as I crept to the entryway and peered through the peephole.

My jaw dropped.

It was Miranda Brooks.

She was wearing a skin-tight black lace dress with a neckline plunging low enough to show off her cleavage. Holding a designer clutch with flawless makeup and blood-red lipstick, she looked like a lethal, blooming poppy.

How the hell did she find my address?

Panicking, I had no choice but to pull the door open.