His Wife, His Enemy

Allison's Apa

of my brain." Arabella hugged her knees. "Fine. I thought I could adult for, like, two minutes. Walk into X Enterprises, see those suits and fake smiles, and I'm like, 'I got this.' Then I break a zillion-dollar statue and get death-stared by Mr. Tall, Dark, and Terrifying." Allison's eyes sparkled, and she leaned forward, nearly toppling the wine. "Oh, let's talk about him. Xavier Blackwood Knight. Those eyes-one blue, one green? I know we were panicking, but he walked in like he owned gravity." Arabella's cheeks burned, and she grabbed a throw pillow for defense. "I was too busy not fainting to notice his eyes. He looked like he could fire me into New Jersey." "You noticed," Allison teased, waggling her eyebrows. "You froze like a squirrel in a spotlight. Those eyes were giving romance novel vibes. I bet he's got a secret lair where he broods with a whiskey and a pet tiger." Arabella laughed so hard she snorted. "Stop! He's not a villain. He's just... scary-hot. Like, 'I could ruin you with one email' hot. And that voice? Velvet, but with a hidden shank." Allison nodded, sipping her wine. "CEO vibes. Job description: 'Must sound like you're plotting world domination.' That 'Speak' line? I thought you'd melt into the rug." "I almost did," Arabella admitted, giggling. "I was like, 'This is it. I'm homeless, eating sadness noodles forever.' Then his phone rang, and he just... bailed. Like I wasn't worth his time." Allison frowned. "You're not fired yet. Probably. I dropped a lamp last month, and I'm still there." "You dropped a lamp?" Arabella said, raising an eyebrow. "You said it 'slipped.'" "It was hideous," Allison said, waving a hand. "I did them a favor. But you? You went for the Olympic gold in chaos. I'm impressed." "Impressed?" Arabella scoffed, tossing the pillow. "I'm gonna be blacklisted! Headlines will read: 'Klutz Wrecks Priceless Art, Doomed to Noodle Hell.'" Allison caught the pillow, grinning. "TikTok potential, though. 'Chaos Cleaner Chronicles.' You'd go viral." Arabella groaned, grabbing her wine. It tasted like vinegar, but she was past caring. "You're the worst. I'm spiraling, and you're planning my influencer era." "That's friendship," Allison said, batting her eyelashes. "I'm your hype woman. Chill, Bells. Maybe Harley forgets, or Mr. Black's so charmed by your disaster energy he gives you a raise." Arabella snorted. "Charmed? He looked at me like I was a cockroach. And Harley's probably knitting a voodoo doll of me." Allison twirled a noodle. "Harley's just jealous you're hotter than her Instagram filters. And Mr. Black? He's forgotten already. Rich guys don't sweat small stuff." "Small stuff?" Arabella yelped. "I turned his office into a crime scene! That statue cost more than our rent for a century!" "Fair," Allison said, raising her hands. "But you were cute panicking. Like a puppy tripping