Divorce Me Before Death Takes Me, CEO

Chapter 3: Would You Like to Dance with Me?

Blake's POV

“Impossible.” The word cautomatically. Audrey was supposed to be at home, resting from her convenient

illness. Besides, she'd never -

The thought died as | followed Michael's finger. There, in the center of the dance floor, was my wife.

The dress she wore was a deep, burning red, cut with the precision and elegance that marked the work of

Europe’s finest couturiers. It hugged her figure in a way that made my throat go dry, the material flowing like

liquid fire with each step of the waltz. Her dark hair was styled in elegant waves, framing a face that looked both

familiar and foreign.

This wasn’t the carefully composed Mrs. Parker who tiptoed around my family’s mansion. This was a side of

Audrey Sinclair I'd never seen before - confident, radiant, almost defiant.

She was leading her dance partner through the steps with practiced ease. An unknown man in a black suit, his

dancing notably less polished than hers. My eyes narrowed at the sight of his hand resting just a bit too low on

her back, and the polite smile playing on her lips. | stood up abruptly, and Michael was a bit stunned. “Sir - ”

lignored him, already striding toward the stairs. The burning anger in my chest demanded immediate

confrontation.

“Blake, darling!”

The sugary-sweet voice cut through my rising anger like a silk-wrapped knife. Laurel stood at the top of the

grand staircase, a vision in white. She glided closer, her smile camera-perfect as always.

“Laurel? What brings you to LA?” | found myself asking, momentarily distracted from my intended confrontation.

“For a photoshoot,” she explained, her voice carrying that practiced mix of casualness and charm. “When | heard

about tonight's gala with all these jewelry designers and merchants, | simply had to come. I'm looking for some

pieces to endorse, you know.”

Her eyes sparkled as she glanced toward the dance floor. “And when | saw everyone dancing downstairs... | was

just thinking how unfortunate it is not to have the right partner for such a lovely evening.”

My eyes drifted back to the dance floor, where Audrey was still moving gracefully with her unknown partner. The

sight of her exposed neck as she laughed made my jaw clench.

“Would you like to dance with me?” Laurel's hand touched my arm.

I nodded, more out of habit than desire. “Sure.”

As we made our way down, | noticed Audrey had switched partners again - now dancing with a man in a navy

suit. James Collins.

Her senior from college, the one who'd helped her a lot and almost won her heart before | cinto the picture.

They moved with practiced familiarity, close enough now that I could catch fragments of their conversation.

“...still designing?” Collins was asking.

“Spieces,” Audrey replied, her voice carrying a warmth | hadn't heard in weeks. “Though jewelry design has

taken a backseat lately.”

“A shame. Your talent was always exceptional.”

I pulled Laurel closer, steering us within better hearing range.

“Speaking of exceptional,” Laurel's voice carried a hint of irony, “Mrs. Parker seems... different tonight,” Laurel

observed, her voice carrying a delicate mix of concern and disdain. “Almost like she’s celebrating something.

Though after what happened at Mayo Clinic last week, | would think she’d show more... discretion.”

My grip on Laurel's waist tightened involuntarily. The mention of the hospital brought back the image of Audrey's

pale face in that stark white room.

“Blake, darling?” Laurel's voice softened with practiced concern. “Maybe you should go talk to her.”

“She must be upset, seeing us together,” Laurel continued, lowering her eyes demurely. “That's probably why

she’s dancing with all these men. You know... to get your attention.”

“There's nothing between us.” The words cout like ice, even as my eyes tracked Audrey’s movements

across the dance floor.

Was this her revenge? Knowing | wouldn't - couldn't - acknowledge her publicly, was she deliberately flaunting

herself before me? The thought sent a surge of anger through my chest. The swoman who'd spent three

years carefully guarding our secret was now dancing with abandon, drawing every eye in the room.

Including mine.

Before | could process that, the music stopped. The event MC's voice boomed through the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen! It’s tfor our traditional partner exchange dance! When the spotlight lands on you,

please prepare to switch partners with the nearest couple!”

The ballroom lights dimmed. A spotlight began to dance across the floor, slowing as it approached our section. |

already knew where it would stop.

Tseemed to freeze as two spotlights locked into place - one on Laurel and me, the other on Audrey and

Collins.

| couldn't help but stare at Audrey. In the harsh spotlight, | could see what the distance had hidden - she'd lost

weight, enough to make her cheekbones sharper than they should be. There were shadows under her eyes that

makeup couldn't quite conceal.

What happened to you in the past week?

The thought cunbidden, followed quickly by anger. What right did | have to worry about her when she was

here, dancing with him, wearing that dress, smiling like she hadn't just walked away from our marriage?

The MC's voice cut through my thoughts: “Couples in the spotlight, please prepare to exchange partners!”

| watched as Collins released Audrey's waist, saw her take a deep breath as she turned toward me.

For a moment, just a moment, her mask slipped. Our eyes met.