Billionaire Boss? Nah, Just A Possessive Husband!

My husband is a billionaire. I'm not saying this to brag about how luxurious my daily life is. I just have one question-do all billionaires cheat?

Like right now, his head is buried against the 36D breasts of a young woman sitting on his lap. From where I stand, the two of them look like some kind of ultra–postmodern sculpture titled Interrupted Sex.

Before his hand could pull that blonde's dress all the way up to her chest, I pushed open the door. Enough. I'm not some voyeur into multi-partner arrangements-especially not when the man in the scene is my own husband.

I don't know how the other trophy wives of billionaires manage it. But me? I can't stay that calm. If not for my current predicament, I swear I'd dump scalding coffee right onto that bastard's dick.

I coughed again. My husband, Cary, finally lifted his handsome face from the woman's overflowing cleavage (seriously, how was he not suffocating?) and glared at me.

"Didn't anyone teach you to knock?" he growled, voice sharp with irritation.

Grinding my teeth, I said, "Sorry. Next time I'll hang a bell on the door handle, so at least when I knock the first time, you'll actually hear it."

"Oh my God, Cary. Your secretary is so disrespectful. I think you should fire her immediately," the blonde in his lap snapped.

I almost pitied her. She had no idea she'd just sealed her fate. Cary despised anyone who interfered in his work decisions.

"Lisa, you need to leave," Cary said coldly. The air seemed to freeze solid around us.

But Lisa didn't feel it at all. Her hand slid toward Cary's belt. With a playful smirk, she purred, "I know you're already hard. I can take care of you right now. You know, having someone watch us would make it even hotter."

A second later, Cary shoved her off him. She hit the floor.

He grabbed the phone instantly. "Security. Remove Lisa from the premises. And don't ever let her appear in my sight again."

Moments later, the guards stormed in and dragged a desperate Lisa away.

The office was suddenly silent, just Cary and me. But I felt no triumph-because truthfully, I was no different from her.

Cary's eyes burned into me, hot enough to scorch right through my skin. His look made it clear: I'd better have something important to say, or I'd end up like Lisa-or worse.

He didn't need a jealous wife. He'd warned me of that when we married.

Before he could unleash his anger, I quickly produced a document that needed his signature. "I need you to sign this."

I forced myself to stay calm as I flipped to the page requiring his name. My heart was pounding so violently it nearly leapt out of my chest. I didn't dare meet his eyes-one glance and he might read me like an open book.

Cary snatched up the pen and scrawled his signature without bothering to look at the