The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 292

Victoria was trembling with anger, every muscle in her body taut with outrage at his shamelessness. She was trapped in McNeil's arms, unable to move.

Right in front of her, McNeil leisurely unwrapped the box, his actions unhurried and deliberate. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, lips grazing that sensitive spot just behind it.

"Trying to plead for Ailie's sake, are you?" His voice was almost amused. "I'm curious, Victoria—just how much are you willing to sacrifice for that cheap affection of yours? Are you still the woman I once knew?"

She faced away from him, but even through the thin fabric of her blouse, she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"I'm letting go of dead weight, not profit…" she said quietly.

She could give herself up, but she'd never abandon her interests.

After all the twists and turns, the only thing that truly mattered—the only real gain—was genuine affection. But someone like McNeil would never understand that.

He stilled, then gripped her chin and turned her face toward him, studying her with an intensity that seemed to strip her soul bare. For a few seconds, he simply stared. Then McNeil's lips curved into a cold smile.

"So, you figured it out?"

Victoria blanched, the blood draining from her face. McNeil had already let go of her, striding over to his desk and pulling a pack of cigarettes from the second drawer.

He took one out and tucked it between his lips, but didn't light it. Instead, he looked at her sideways, eyes sharp.

"What do you want, McNeil?" she demanded.

"If this is for Ailie, I don't mind you spending the night with me. But if you're doing this for someone else… then once won't be enough."

Victoria shook uncontrollably, like a leaf caught in a storm.

"Why are you targeting him?" Her voice was brittle.

McNeil's expression was calm, almost bored, but his eyes were cold as winter.

"I'm bored," he replied simply.

Victoria's hand flew up in fury, but he caught her wrist before she could strike. With a swift motion, he pulled her into his arms, tumbling them both onto the couch.

Tears pricked Victoria's eyes. "You bastard, McNeil, he's my—"

The rest of her words dissolved between their tangled lips, swallowed by the heat of their bodies and the low, desperate sounds that filled the office.

…

Two hours later, outside the office, the secretary rose from her seat, looking anxiously at Violet.

"Ms. Marchand…"

Was Violet here to catch them in the act?

"Did some important guest arrive? Why are the doors and windows all shut?" Violet asked, suspicion flickering across her face.

The secretary scrambled for an answer. "Ms. Marchand, Mr. Langford is handling something delicate right now. Would you mind waiting in the lounge? As soon as he's finished, he'll come out to see you. It's really not a good time to interrupt."

Her professionalism was on full display—after all, as the president's secretary, she'd never have survived this long at The Langford Group without that skill.

Violet didn't seem to suspect anything, nodding and following the secretary to the lounge.

Back at her desk, the secretary sat in agony, praying nothing scandalous would happen—no "girlfriend catches boyfriend cheating with a subordinate" headlines, especially involving the seemingly perfect President Langford.

If this ever got out, the entire city would be gossiping for a year. Mr. Langford's downfall would be far juicier than any celebrity's.

At least, she consoled herself, Mr. Langford's relationships were with consenting adults.

But word was, Ms. Turner was a married woman. Did that make her more tempting to him?

Meanwhile, Violet waited in the lounge, bored out of her mind and scrolling through her phone for nearly forty minutes.

Eventually, unable to sit still, she wandered out—and found the office door wide open, curtains pulled back, the entire room now laid bare for all to see.