Divorced By My Husband; Desired By His Boss

"Amy, trust me, you look stunning!" Sara said, trying to sound convincing to her best friend. She clapped her hands together, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

Amy frowned, blindly running her hands down the dress Sara had forced her into. The material felt expensive, silky even, but there was something about Sara's tone that made her uneasy.

"Are you sure? Because I haven't even seen myself yet."

"You don't need to. That's what best friends are for. Just trust me," she chirped, shuffling around the vanity table as she capped the lipstick she had just smeared across Amy's lips.

Amy's hands fidgeted in her lap.

It wasn't like she didn't trust Sara-it was just that Sara's idea of "stunning" was sometimes... questionable. And the fact that she hadn't been allowed a single glance at a mirror since she had started dolling her up. That was suspicious.

She reached out instinctively for the small mirror on the vanity, but Sara snatched it away before she could grab it.

"Ah-ah, no peeking yet," She chided, wagging a finger.

Amy frowned deeply this time. "Sara, I need to see how I look. Just a quick..."

"Nope. Not until after you do a quick retouching," She interrupted, pressing a makeup sponge into Amy's hands. "Go on, just pat a little more powder here and here." She gestured vaguely toward Amy's cheeks.

Amy reluctantly obeyed, and before she could press the issue, Sara was already shoving the invitation card into her hands.

"Come on, you're going to be late." She smiled, inwardly fuming with hatred for the lady before her.

The final touching Amy did herself, that's her way of getting out of this. She did the retouching herself, so she was the one who messed up the make-up.

Amy on the other hand was wondering how Sara got to have the invite. It was an elite party, hosted by the company her husband works for.

Roman didn't inform her about it, but Sara somehow got to know. Saying it was a couple party and Roman would be nothing but enthusiastic towards her approach of surprising him by her presence.

She wanted to hold onto the leap of faith to alleviate their relationship. So she took a taxi and headed to the party, forgetting she wanted to check how she looks.

Arriving, the party was in full swing. Elegant couples in designer outfits alighted from their cars, making their way to the entrance.

Amy stepped forward, clutching the invitation. She took in a shaky breath, passing the invite to the huge man at the entrance. Who kept looking at her weirdly before allowing her in.

Now that she was inside, almost instantly, an odd shift in the air made her pause. The room was drenched in golden light, previously filled with murmurs of conversations blending seamlessly with the live classical music was now replaced with... stare.

People were staring.

Her stomach twisted. Was she that beautiful? Or... was it something else?

She tried to ignore the murmurs, and the quick glances, then passed between well-dressed women.

Then she spotted Roman.

Her husband stood stiffly near the bar, his face neutral. But she knew that look well; the tightness in his jaw, the barely-there crease between his brows.

He was furious.

She gulped. What's wrong? She glanced down at herself, still unable to understand what everyone else were staring at.

"Is that your wife, Mr. Miller?" an older man with a narrowing gaze asked Roman. Who didn't acknowledge him, but only kept his intent gaze on the approaching Amy.

If glare could kill, Amy would be six-feet below the ground at the moment. That was how intense Roman's glare was.

Before she could speak when she got closer, his snap made her flinch slightly.

"What in the hell, Amy?" He was holding back not to growl. Thanks for the music, many didn't hear him.

"Didn't you see yourself in the mirror before coming? You look like a damn clown," He seethed, slightly louder this time.

Amy's face got flushed from embarrassment instantly. Everyone was watching, and he was saying this to her. Sara had told her she was stunning, did she lie?

"I should go to the restroom then," She told him quickly, trying to save him from the embarrassment. She herself was uncomfortable with people's stares.

Roman didn't say anything, only kept glaring with his chest rising and falling. He didn't want his boss to see her, he had lied about her absence. But his damn wife had other plans.

Amy kept standing, expecting him to lead the way to the restroom. But he remained where he was, as if ashamed to be seen close to her.

"Are you Mrs. Miller?" She turned to her side when she heard a lady's voice.

"Mind your fvcking business, Malta," Roman snapped, not caring to hide his irritation.

Amy was shocked to see him cursing in a big gathering like this. Malta wasn't upset, they all know Roman as "CEO in the head" and sometimes called "Sloth" he acts bossy and rude to anyone except the CEO. Also very lazy and a huge fan of procrastination.

Amy wanted to apologize to Malta, but she had turned away already. That was when Amy felt an intent gaze on her.

Her eyes found those pairs of forest green eyes. He was talking to someone in front of him, but he was looking her way. Then his lips lifted up, amusement dancing in his eyes before he mumbled something to the person and walk toward her.

For one, he wanted to see her close. Who calls for attention in this ridiculous manner? Justin Harrison thought.

He couldn't stop his legs from moving closer to her.

"What are you still doing here? Leave." Roman's voice made Amy tore her gaze from the man approaching.

Roman felt both humiliated and disrespected. What was she trying to do by appearing here without his notice? To claim her rights as his wife?

That made a scoff escape his lips before he noticed his boss walking in his direction. Hastily, he grabbed Amy's wrist and pulled her toward the restroom.

"Mr. Miller," Justin called, stopping him. It was then he noticed that the lady was being close to him. Was she his wife?

She was wearing a pastel pink dress, the silky fabric clung awkwardly to her frame, the fit slightly off, making it seem both too tight and ill-tailored. The real disaster was her makeup; harsh red lips, heavy contour, and glittery blue eyeshadow that made her look clownish.

And yet, somehow... She looked hilariously adorable, much to his amusement. Not everyone had the audacity to enter a party half-way done looking like that.

"Is she your wife?" Justin found himself asking, and to his disappointment, Roman nodded.

A lazy jerk and his walking fashion mess wife. What a weird duo.

Amy acknowledged the man with a stiff bow, trying to hide her smile. He was too good-looking for her to look at.

Roman looked flushed, he had lied about Amy, now the urge to apologize burned the tip of his tongue. "I'm sorry she had to..."

"It's fine." Justin interrupted him, he didn't need to hear his fake apology. He wonders what kind of a man would make his wife dress this way.

Initially, Justin had asked him why he didn't come with his wife. His response was "she had malaria" that was an ugly lie but he intentionally didn't push forward.

> Get me any make-up artist available. ASAP.

Justin texted his assistant, glanced up to Amy, "A professional makeup artist is on her way to redo your make-up. Whoever did that to your face clearly had a personal vendetta against beauty.... but somehow, you're still pulling it off. See this as me being nice, Mr. Miller," He concluded, shifting his gaze to Roman.

Roman and Amy both raised a brow at Justin's words. Amy felt a strange warmth spread through her chest at the insinuated compliment, but it quickly faded at the sharp glare Roman shot her way.

Justin's words sank deeper. Wait, a make-up artist is on their way? For her?

She blinked, confused.

Justin only smirked, he didn't know why he did that. But he loves it when people are confident and bold. Roman declined the offer but Justin persisted, much to Roman's suspicion. His boss wasn't this nice-at least, not to him.

Roman kept shifting his gaze from Justin to Amy, what he felt was far from jealousy. Even Amy herself couldn't hide the surprise on her face.

Before she could make sense of the situation, someone announced the arrival of a make-up artist. The make-up artist urged her to the dressing room, she thanked Justin before leaving.

"You've got quite an entertaining wife, Mr. Miller," Justin said to Roman.

"That's one way to put it," Roman muttered, his lips twisting in disdain. Not long after the make-up was corrected, Roman made sure they left immediately under the pretense of having an upset stomach.

His constant lame excuse or lie just worsened his already bad reputation. He knew this from their stares but didn't care. He just doesn't like the way his boss was staring at his wife.