The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 307

Chapter 307

McNeil's phone had gone straight to voicemail.

Violet's mind was running wild with images of McNeil in the shower. Was that why she couldn't reach him? Were they... busy right now?

She couldn't stand not knowing. If McNeil wouldn't answer, she'd get to the

bottom of it another way-so she dialed Victoria.

Victoria, at that moment, was pressed up against the wardrobe, her towel yanked away, right in the heat of things with McNeil.

"My-my phone's ringing."

She barely managed to gasp out the words between his feverish kisses, but McNeil wasn't about to let her go. He held her close, staggering with her over to the room's only table, lifted her onto it, and, without looking, grabbed her phone, swiped to answer, and brought it to her ear.

"Pick up-"

Victoria glanced down at the screen. Ms. Marchand.

She hesitated, looking at McNeil for help, but his next move left her trembling so hard she nearly dropped the phone.

With the phone pressed to her ear, Victoria managed a shaky, "Hello—"

She'd barely gotten the word out before McNeil's lips found hers again. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as sounds escaped, not realizing that Violet could hear the strange noises on the other end. When Violet tried to listen more closely, though, the line went silent.

"Where's McNeil?"

the man pinning her beneath him, completely confused as to why Violet would

"Ms. Marchand-"

The phone slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. Without missing a beat, McNeil scooped her up and carried her to

leaned in, and Victoria couldn't take it anymore, her muffled moans slipping

face went bloodless as she realized exactly what

was off—Victoria was

light from the window, took his time drinking in the sight of her. He picked up her phone, holding it in one

the phone off right in front

out of bed the next morning, her whole body

her eyes, she realized she had less than ten minutes to get to

out of bed, rushed through her morning routine, and threw on her clothes as

at the office just a minute late, took the elevator up to the tech department, and

finish his shower last night?"

What happens between a married couple is none of your business," another co-worker

George walked in, took one look at the group, and barked, "Enough with the party-get to work! We're slammed

laughter died at once-

in,

last night?

gossipy, almost gleeful curiosity, as if she

so I went to get his clothes, and I guess the

a conspiratorial squeal. "Wait, wait-you two are

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