Back to true love after cheated

The heavy scent of lilies in the hallway of the Hotel Plaza Athénée usually calmed me, but tonight, it felt like a shroud. My toes throbbed inside my flats, a lingering ache from the final curtain call of "Giselle". All I wanted was my suite, a hot bath, and a glass of wine.

Then I heard it.

A low, guttural moan drifted from the suite next to mine��402. My husband 's suite.

I froze, my hand hovering over my own keycard.

"Vincent, please," a woman 's voice gasped. It was high-pitched, breathless, and entirely unfamiliar.

"Patience, Mandy," a man replied.

The world tilted. That voice belonged to Vincent. My husband. The man who was supposed to be three thousand miles away in New York, navigating a hostile takeover.

I didn't think. I didn't breathe. I moved to door 402 and hammered my fist against the wood.

"Vincent! Open this door!"

The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the frantic thumping of my own heart. A minute passed��an eternity��before the lock clicked.

The door swung back. Vincent stood there, his silk tie discarded on the floor behind him. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jaw was tight, his eyes wide with a flicker of something that looked like guilt before it hardened into a mask.

"Jessica? What are you doing here?"

"I live here this week, remember?" I pushed past him, my voice trembling. "The tour. Paris. My husband 's surprise visit that I wasn't supposed to know about?"

I stopped in the center of the living area. A woman sat on the edge of the unmade bed, clutching a silk robe to her chest. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess, and her lipstick was smeared across her cheek.

"Who is she, Vincent?"

Vincent closed the door, his movements stiff. "Jessica, calm down. It 's not what you think."

"It looks like you 're having an affair in the middle of my opening week," I snapped, turning to face him. "Is there a version of this where you aren't a liar?"

"Mandy was drugged," Vincent said, his voice dropping into that authoritative tone he used in boardrooms. "She was at the gala tonight. Someone slipped a performance enhancer��a concentrated aphrodisiac��into her drink. She was in a state of total distress, Jessica. She couldn't even stand."

I looked at the woman, Mandy. She looked up at me with watery, pleading eyes.

"It 's true," Mandy whispered, her voice shaking. "I felt so sick, so... out of control. Vincent found me in the lobby. He was just trying to help me get through the reaction. He 's a hero, Mrs. Miller. Please don't be angry with him."

"A hero?" I let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "So the cure for a spiked drink is my husband 's bed? Is that the medical consensus now?"

"Jessica, stop it," Vincent stepped toward me, his hand reaching out.

I flinched away. "Don't touch me. You