He Wants An Open Marriage? Done!

No one spoke. They simply watched in a stunned hush as Roxanne elegantly picked up her salad fork. A deep wave of satisfaction settled into her gut.

"If she can silence a table as ruthless as this one, then she is the absolute perfect person for the job," Henry Vance declared, a hearty smile breaking across his weathered face. He looked down the table at her, raising his glass. "Congratulations. Miss Westbrook. And welcome to Vance Enterprises."

Margaret let out a soft, bitter scoff, setting her napkin down. "Anyone can give a good speech," she murmured coldly. "Not everyone possesses the stamina to live up to their own words. Talk is cheap."

Roxanne said absolutely nothing. She simply maintained her polite smile, keeping her eyes fixed on her plate as she lifted a forkful of food. But as she moved, she felt the burning intensity of Richard’s gaze. She risked a glance and saw the raw, unmistakable pride shining in his eyes and a silent plea for her attention.

Remembering Cara’s words, Roxanne instantly ripped her eyes away, refusing to return his smile. Richard’s expression darkened, his jaw hardening into a rigid, painful line where he sat.

Suddenly—

"I have one more question." Cara’s sharp voice sliced through the heavy air.

The entire table froze. The ambient clink of glassware vanished instantly.

Cara leaned slightly across the table, her eyes locked onto Roxanne. "What exactly is it that you want from Richard?"

The dining room went dead silent.

Even Roxanne froze, her fork hovering inches from her lips as the air in the room turned to ice.

Richard’s gaze snapped directly to Cara, his jaw hardening to stone under the flickering candlelight. "This is a corporate function," he said, his baritone dropping into a forced calm. "Your question is entirely out of place."

Cara opened her mouth to argue, but Henry interjected, his palm hitting the table with authoritative weight.

"Why don’t we all focus on our meal?" Henry said, his stern voice echoing off the high ceilings. "This dinner was arranged to welcome our newest executive, not to dissect her personal life or feelings."

"The moment she accepted an executive seat at Vance Enterprises, her personal life became our business," Margaret shot back smoothly, her fingers tightly gripping her wine glass. "And if she finds that standard too invasive, she is more than welcome to tender her resignation right now."

Across the table, Pamela scoffed loudly. "Oh, Mother, please," she murmured, shaking her head in disgust.

Roxanne’s heart was hammering frantically against her ribs, but she kept her face blank, refusing to let the blood rushing in her ears show.

Cara didn’t even look up from her plate as she drove the blade deeper. "I am still waiting for your answer, Roxanne," she repeated, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

Trapped, Roxanne shifted her gaze to Richard. Her pulse raced as their eyes locked.

Richard held her gaze, conflict swimming in his dark eyes, silently begging her to handle the trap carefully. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. She had given the perfect answer to every ruthless business query, but what was the correct answer to a trap like this?

Cara finally lifted her eyes, her gaze boring into Roxanne’s face. "What exactly do you want from my fiancé?"

Roxanne tore her eyes away from Richard and fixed them directly on Cara. "Nothing," she said, the single word scraping painfully against her dry throat. "I am here to build a career, and that is where my exclusive focus remains."

With that final declaration, she dropped her gaze back to her untouched food. Henry and Pamela both let out slow shakes of their heads. Richard’s jaw clenched so hard that a muscle feathered violently in his cheek, his gaze burning into the side of Roxanne’s face, but she refused to meet his eyes.

Margaret took another measured sip of wine as she evaluated Roxanne. "I certainly hope we can keep it that way."

"Cara, dear," Catherine Vance-Knight piped up from further down the table, adjusting her diamond necklace with a look of utter confusion. "Why on earth are you even asking such a question? Is she not a married woman, or am I missing something? Didn’t I see her husband being interviewed on television just this afternoon?"

Roxanne’s teeth ground together so tightly her jaw ached. The ambient scent of roasted meat and heavy perfumes suddenly felt utterly suffocating. She had to shut this down permanently, or these people would pick her apart until there was nothing left.

Lifting her eyes, she met Catherine’s judgmental gaze dead-on. "Yes, I am currently married, and you are entirely correct. The question is completely inappropriate for a professional setting," Roxanne said, her voice composed. "I would deeply appreciate it if everyone at this table remembered that I am here to work for this conglomerate, not to fraternize with my employer."

"Perfect, then," Cara said smoothly. A mischievous smile plastered itself across her face as she picked up her wine glass.

Roxanne could feel the phantom sting of the trap closing. She knew exactly what Cara had just achieved, she had forced Roxanne to openly reject Richard in front of everyone that mattered.

And the worst part was that Cara had won.

Richard’s grip on his crystal water glass was so tight that his knuckles were stark white. Roxanne genuinely feared the glass might shatter into pieces in his palm.

"I was actually wondering—" Nicholas tried to interject, attempting to pivot back to the attack.

"That is quite enough!" Henry cut in fiercely, his voice booming across the table and silencing his son instantly. "Unless your next sentence is a direct inquiry about corporate strategy, we have had more than enough questions for one evening. This dinner was intended to welcome her, not to make her feel as though she is working alongside vultures and monsters. Give the woman a break."

Roxanne let out a quiet exhale, a wave of gratitude washing over her. She offered Henry a thankful smile, knowing she had been mere seconds away from losing her own composure.

Suddenly, a heavy thud echoed from the grand entrance of the dining room.

"Roxanne!" The loud, unrefined shout cut through the elegant music like a buzzsaw.

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