He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

"You can’t do that! No!" Roxanne’s voice cracked across the silent boardroom, sharp enough to make the deputy chairman flinch.

Her chest heaved against her blouse, each breath coming short and fast as her eyes darted from face to face around the long table.

Henry looked weary. Pamela stared down at her hands. Margaret sat with her arms crossed, her expression clipped and cold.

Finally, Roxanne’s gaze locked onto Richard. "Tell me this isn’t true."

Richard let out a quiet breath, the muscle in his jaw flexing before he shook his head. "I wish I could."

They are going to negotiate with him? After everything? The thought slammed into her mind, terrifying and incomprehensible. Why? What am I missing?

"Why?" The word scraped out of her throat. Her hands were shaking, and she shoved her knuckles against the edge of the table to force them still. "He has dragged your family through the mud. He ruined my life for years. He put your father in a police station this morning! And your response is to offer him a seat at your table?"

No one answered.

Margaret simply leaned back in her leather chair, her dark eyes narrowing as she watched Roxanne unravel.

"Throwing him in prison would be too merciful!" Roxanne snapped, her voice rising again. "He belongs behind bars!"

Richard stepped closer, his hand coming down gently on her shoulder. The warmth of his palm seeped through her sleeve, a brief anchor in the middle of her storm. "Calm down, Roxanne. Listen to me."

"No, Richard!" She pulled away slightly, shaking her head in disbelief. "How do you expect me to sit here and be calm?"

"Because locking him up right now doesn’t fix the damage," Richard said smoothly. His voice stayed steady, acting as a counterweight to her panic. He held her gaze until her breathing began to slow. "If we throw him in jail today, he becomes a martyr."

"He’s right," Henry interjected from the head of the table. His voice was raspy, carrying the strain of a man who had spent his morning in police custody. "The press is primed for a narrative. If Christian goes to prison right now, the public will believe we used our wealth to silence a whistleblower."

"Or worse," Richard added, his eyes never leaving Roxanne’s face, "they’ll say I used my position as his boss to intimidate him and take his wife. Which is the exact story he’s been feeding the tabloids."

A cold clarity began to settle in Roxanne’s gut, replacing the blinding heat of her anger. She took a breath, letting the air cool her throat before she exhaled.

"Okay," she said quietly, the word steadying her. "I understand the optics. But there has to be another way. You’ve been digging into his past for weeks. You must have found something. Christian is too reckless and arrogant not to have left a trail of mess behind him."

A faint, sharp smile touched the corner of Richard’s mouth. He took a step toward her, closing the distance until she could smell the subtle scent of cedar and citrus that always clung to his suit.

"I don’t want you worrying about the details," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet tone that made her pulse flutter despite the situation. "Just trust me. He isn’t walking away from this. I promise you."

Roxanne looked up into his dark eyes. The sheer confidence in his stance grounded her better than any argument could. She let out a long sigh, her shoulders dropping an inch. "I trust you."

"First, we repair the crack he made in the foundation," Henry said, tapping his pen against his pad. "Once the company is secure, we destroy him."

"I can’t wait," Pamela chimed in from the end of the table.

Every head turned toward her. Pamela gave a mild shrug and leaned back, unbothered by the attention.

Roxanne turned back to Richard, her voice calmer now, the edge of panic replaced by sharp focus. "What exactly do you have planned?"

Richard’s smile deepened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He turned his head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out over the city skyline below. "When someone decides to attack this family, they need to make sure they’re strong enough to survive the retaliation."

Roxanne frowned, her brows drawing together. "Now I’m confused. A minute ago you said you were sitting down to negotiate. Now you sound like a man preparing for war."

Richard turned back to her, his expression unreadable. "It’s both, Roxanne. He thinks he’s coming here to sign a settlement and dictate terms." He paused, looking down at the scattered documents on the table. "By the time he leaves this room, he will publicly recant every lie he told about you, my father, and this company."

Realization dawned on her face. "You found something."

Richard gave a single, firm nod.

Relief washed over her so suddenly she felt lightheaded. The air in the room felt easier to breathe.

"Let me see what you have," she said quickly, stepping closer to his side. "I know how his mind works. I know his weak spots. I can look over the files and tell you where to press so he can’t wriggle out of it."

"There will be no need for that," Margaret interrupted sharply. The matriarch stood up, her chair scraping against the hardwood floor. She leveled a cold stare at Roxanne. "You won’t even be in the room."

"Mother—" Richard began.

"She was the one who told us about her legal victory ten minutes ago," Margaret said, turning her glare to her son. "She explicitly stated there is a court-ordered restraining order in place. If Christian steps foot on this floor while she’s standing here, someone might call the police and this meeting, this plan, everything will be ruined."

Roxanne’s hands curled into tight fists at her sides. "I’m not running away, Margaret," she said, her voice hard as iron as she met the older woman’s gaze. "I am staying right here to watch him fall."

Margaret let out a dry, mocking laugh, but before she could throw another insult, Henry placed a heavy hand over hers.

"That’s enough, Margaret," Henry said firmly. He looked at Roxanne with a faint nod of respect. "She stays. If you were in her shoes, you wouldn’t leave this room either."

"Be reasonable, Henry!" Margaret snapped, though she stayed standing. "The reporters outside saw her enter the building. The staff downstairs saw her. If Christian arrives and sees her here, they will call the police before we even open the door."

Roxanne felt a prickle of frustration. As much as she hated to admit it, Margaret’s logic was sound.

Richard looked at Roxanne, his posture shifting into something rigid and immovable. "No one is calling the police on my floor. I’ll make sure of it."

"She’s right, Richard," Roxanne admitted quietly, the sting of defeat making her voice raspy. "The press saw me walk through those doors. If someone leaks that I’m in the same room as him—"

"I said don’t worry about it," Richard cut in gently. He pulled out his phone, his thumb moving across the screen with practiced speed. He typed out a brief message, sent it, and slid the device back into his breast pocket. "Done."

Roxanne blinked. "What did you just do?"

Richard didn’t explain. Instead, he reached out, his fingers wrapping securely around hers.

"Come here," he said softly, leading her away from the center of the room toward the chief executive chair at the head of the table. He pulled out the heavy leather seat beside his own. "I want you right here."

Roxanne looked down at the chair, then up into his dark eyes.

"You were here when he started this fire," Richard murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear it over the low murmur of the board members. "Now sit down and watch me put it out."

Her heart skipped a beat, a tight surge of anticipation filling her chest as she slid into the leather seat beside him.