**Playing with Fire**
Youre something else, Oliver laughed, tilting his head back. You actually said it to her face? In front of everyone?
What else was I supposed to do? James drummed his fingers on the table, restless. Im married. She wouldnt leave me alonegot bolder every day. The whole department was staring.
Mate, youre too modest, Oliver teased. Another bloke wouldve taken the chance, but youre acting like a bloody saint.
Weve got different ideas about loyalty, James shot back, though his eyes betrayed exhaustion. At first, it was just hintsI pretended not to notice. Didnt want to be rude or make a scene.
And thats exactly where you went wrong, Oliver said, raising a knowing brow. Your silence encouraged her, gave her false hope.
What does she even want from me? Plenty of single blokes around!
For women like her, a wedding ring isnt a barrierits a challenge, Oliver mused. Proof youre worth having.
Emily stormed into the office like an unexpected gust of wind. She wasnt a classic beautysharp features, a low, slightly raspy voicebut when she smiled, the room seemed to shift. The HR manager later admitted shed been ready to reject her, but that smile changed everything.
At first, James genuinely liked her. Her energy and quick wit were a breath of fresh air in the dull office routine. He helped her settle in, shared advice. To him, it was simple kindnessno ulterior motive. A devoted family man, he saw her as a bright colleague, almost a younger sister.
But then the boundaries blurred. Emilys jokes turned suggestive, her touches lingering. James, an introvert unused to such boldness, faltered. His usual composure wavered. He avoided her, skipped shared lunches. Yet his retreat only spurred her on.
***
James was in his mid-thirties, the sort of man who maintained order in his life with near-military precision. Tall but slightly stooped, as if trying to take up less space. Dark hair, neatly trimmed, with premature silver at the templesheredity and stress. Calm eyes, but with a quiet exhaustion beneath. He wore thin-framed glasses, which hed remove and rub at the bridge of his nose when tense. His clothes were understated: plain shirts, tailored trousers. No flash, no fuss.
He disliked crowds, office gossip, flirtationall of it felt foreign, draining. His world was quiet, ordered, focused. Conflict terrified him; hed sooner retreat than confront.
Yet beneath it all was an unshakable devotion to his family. Charlotte and the kids werent just part of his lifethey *were* his life. His loyalty wasnt performative; it was as natural as breathing.
Emily had fixated on him from day one. He was the only one immune to her charms. To seduce him wasnt just about attentionit was validation. If a man like *him* fell, shed proved her worth. And experience told her no “perfect family man” was truly flawless.
Within weeks, she was gushing to her friend Lucy about her feelings. Lucy listened with growing unease.
Another married one? Emily, stop. Hes got two kids.
Oh, details! Hes miserableI can see it. Trapped in his perfect little life. His wife this *Charlotte* she doesnt understand him. Shes just a housekeeper with a ring.
How would you know? Have you even met her?
I dont need to! I see *him*. So buttoned-up, so *proper* Thats not normal. Theres pain underneath. He just wont admit it. I want to help himfree him.
Christ, you sound like a bad romance novel. You dont want to *help* him. You want him because hes off-limits. This isnt a gameits real life!
You dont get it, Luce, Emily said, eyes blazing. This is *my* life. Were meant to be. His perfect family? Ill find the cracks. I always do.
***
The business trip to Manchester was Jamess trial. Who volunteered to join him? Emily, of course. In front of clients, she was the picture of professionalism, and he nearly relaxeduntil the knock at his hotel door late that night.
My rooms freezing, she said, wrapped in a robe that left little to the imagination.
His stomach dropped. Panic, thick and suffocating, clawed at his throat. He pictured Charlottes faceher steady, trusting gaze.
Wait here, he managed, turning away. Ill get you a spare blanket.
She pouted but took it.
Youve locked yourself in a cage and thrown away the key, she muttered, leaving. Pity. Theres a different man underneathI know it.
He shut the door, forehead pressing against it, pulse roaring in his ears. Relief warred with a strange, heavy pityfor her, for himself, for the absurdity of it all.
Back at the office, Emily seemed to forget him. James began to breathe againuntil she asked for a lift home. He refused.
Do I disgust you?
Youre vibrant, he said carefully. But I love my wife. I have a family
So thats the only reason? Her eyes lit with dangerous determination.
No He fumbled for the right words, but she was already gone. He regretted his hesitation instantly. And rightly so.
That night, Charlotte shook him awake, her voice a furious whisper.
James, have you lost your mind? What the hell is this woman sending you?
He sat up, heart hammering. On his phone: Emily, in lingerie, posing shamelessly.
Char, its not what you think! Voice cracking, he confessed everythinghis awkwardness, his mistakes.
Charlotte was silent a long moment. Then a sigh.
You daft, noble idiot, she murmured, anger and affection tangled. Fine. I believe you. But tell her this: if it happens again, Ill come to that office and put on a show thatll put *EastEnders* to shame.
He nodded into the dark.
The next day, he called Emily into a meeting room. She waltzed in, radiant, expecting surrender.
Emily, youve crossed a line.
Oh, relax, she purred, reaching for his cheek.
He recoiled. Her hand hung in the air.
What are you implying?
That your perfect life is a lie, she said, voice dripping poison. From the outside, its all lovelydevoted wife, little princess daughter, heir and a spare
We *are* happy.
Wake up, James! She slammed a printout on the table. Look. Paternity probability: 0%. Handy having friends in labs, isnt it?
The room went cold. He stared at her triumphant sneer, every shred of sympathy evaporating.
I tolerated your advances, he said, voice low and lethal. But my children? *Never.* Tom isnt mine by blood. Thats between me and Charlotte. But since youre so keen on digginghis parents, Charlottes sister and her husband, died. Hes *our* son now. Happy? Satisfied?
Her bravado crumbled. II didnt know.
I dont know how you got that testif its even real. Before, I thought you were just lonely. Now I see youre dangerous. Resign. If your notice isnt on the directors desk by tonight, I go to the police. And if you *ever* come near my kids His pause was deadlier than a shout. Youll wish it was just the police.
She quit that afternoon. James came home early, finding eight-year-old Lily bent over homework and six-year-old Tom piecing together a puzzle. He hugged them tight, breathing in the scent of their hair.
That night, he sat across from Charlotte.
We have to tell him, he said softly. He should hear it from usnot a stranger.
She nodded, eyes wet with relief, not grief.
A week later, after cake, James knelt before Tom.
Remember how we said familys the most important thing? And that it comes in all sorts. Well, mate Im not your birth dad. Your first mum and dad were Auntie Sarah and Uncle Markthey were wonderful, but theyre not here anymore. Mummy and I were your parents by choice. By love.
Tom pondered this, then simply hugged them and asked for more cake. The weight lifted. In the crumbs and quiet chatter, there was no room for Emilyor her delusions. Everything was as it should be.
*Lesson learned: Silence can be mistaken for consent. Some lines must be drawn earlyand firmly.*
