Page 34 of What Broke First (The Cheating A$$hole #1)

The conference room emptied like eye contact had tripped a fire alarm. Chairs scraped, bags zipped, and within seconds, everyone was gone. Everyone except Matt. He stayed behind, fingers pressed to his temple, scrolling through meeting notes on his laptop. His head throbbed. Sleep had been a stranger for nights in a row, and it was starting to show.

Lily lingered in the doorway, pretending to shuffle papers. She had been doing that a lot lately, hanging back when everyone else was already gone. He ignored her, eyes fixed on the screen. Maybe she would just take the hint. He had been dodging these ambushes for weeks and still kept getting cornered.

“You’ve seemed kind of off lately,”

she said lightly, tilting her head.

“Just checking in.”

Matt finally looked up, a beat too long, before forcing a professional nod.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Of course,”

she said, flashing a fake smile. She slipped out, heels tapping down the hall.

Matt let out a breath, rubbed his temple again, and returned to his screen.

Five minutes later, she reappeared, sliding a paper cup beside his laptop.

“Here you go, Mr. Taylor. Just like you like it. Two creamers, one sugar.”

He blinked at the cup, then at her. For the first time that day, he smiled.

“Thank you, Lily. Look, I’m sorry if I have been a bit short with you lately. It’s just…”

“I know,”

she cut in with a quick smile.

“You are up for partner. It shows, by the way. I mean, that you would be a good partner.”

She touched her neck, casually, then crossed one leg over the other and leaned against the doorframe like she had nowhere else to be.

Matt smiled again, but this time he didn't dismiss her. His eyes drifted over her in a long, measured look. She noticed.

“You think so?” he asked.

“I know so, Mr. Taylor. Even Mr. Holloway thinks so.”

Matt gave a smirk, one that carried both exhaustion and pride.

“Mr. Holloway is the bane of my existence right now. But you gotta do what you gotta do.”

They both chuckled, the sound a little too comfortable.

“Tell me about it,”

Lily said, rolling her eyes.

“He once had me change a hook line in an ad three times because he said millennials like things that rhyme.”

Matt laughed, really laughed, and shook his head.

“That sounds exactly like him.”

For a moment, the office felt lighter. Easier. She had been testing angles for weeks. The long game was finally paying off. The look he gave her was new. It lingered. She logged it like a deadline, neat and permanent. Matt liked the attention more than he should.

Thoughts he had no business entertaining stirred. Is she pursuing me? Maybe I’ve still got it. He detoured past her cubicle on the way out, then paused at the lobby glass to check his reflection.

That evening, in the shower, Matt braced his palms against the tile as the hot water poured over him. His mind should have been on Sarah. On the kids. On the endless work piling on his desk. But it wasn’t.

It was on Lily.

The way she had leaned in the doorway, her fingers brushing her neck like it was an unconscious habit. The slow cross of her long legs.

He could see her full lips forming the words, I know so, Mr. Taylor. He could see the smile she had given him when he finally looked at her, when he let himself look too long.

His body reacted before his brain could stop it. Heat coiled low, unwanted but undeniable. He pressed his forehead against the tile, eyes squeezed shut, trying to will it away.

But he couldn’t.

His hand wrapped around his cock, stroking in long, steady pulls. Relief mingled with shame as he let himself sink into the fantasy. It wasn’t Sarah he imagined. It was Lily.

Her pouty mouth wrapping around him, lips slick and perfect. Her eyes meeting his, full of smug triumph, as she took him deeper. He pictured her kneeling on the floor of that empty conference room, lipstick smeared, her voice husky with satisfaction.

The pressure built fast. He pumped harder, greedy for the finish, letting the reel play: her tongue, her laugh, the cross of her legs, the idle touch at her throat.

He came with a low groan, heat spilling over his hand, the water erasing it in seconds.

He caught his breath and let the heat fade. He told himself this was his little secret. Harmless. It would not go further. This was his. It began and ended here. Sarah was down the hall, untouched by it. Lily, however, had other plans.

Earlier in the day, she cued the scene in her head while she stared at a blank computer screen. The way his eyes lingered on her, his unnecessary trips by her desk. She smiled. Got him.

Men like Matt Taylor liked to think they were stone. Solid. Loyal. Unshakable. But she knew better. They cracked like anyone else if you pressed the right places.

She wanted him to think of her when she wasn't around.

She had seen the shift in his eyes when he looked at her, the way his gaze lingered a fraction too long. That was all she needed. That hesitation meant he would carry her with him. Into his thoughts and maybe into his bed.

Breaking a man wasn't about throwing yourself at him. It was about planting little seeds. By the time he realized he was thinking of her in places he should not, it would already be too late.

And that was exactly how Lily liked it.

The attention gave him a small hit, then another. He started chasing it. Soon, he was dressing sharply, lingering in the office, retelling Sarah little jokes from the day as if Lily were just another colleague. But in his head, the thoughts had started shifting, turning more and more inappropriate.

The weeks blurred, deadlines stacking until he barely remembered what a full night’s sleep felt like. His office light burned later than most, and too often Lily’s burned just as long. Sometimes he caught the faint sound of her humming as she typed, soft and almost careless, like she wasn’t exhausted the way he was.

The rain outside hadn’t stopped all day, but Lily’s laugh cut through the gloom like it belonged to sunshine. Matt leaned against her cubicle, coffee in hand.

“You know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, right?”

Her eyes flicked up from the screen, lips tugging into a crooked smile.

“Then we must both be insane, you for staying this late every night and me for fixing copy no one will ever read closely enough to care about.”

“Welcome to advertising,”

he muttered, and her laugh followed him all the way back to his desk.

It stuck like a hook, and from that point, he started noticing details he shouldn’t. The way her pen tapped lightly against her mouth when she was thinking. How she angled her chair toward him during meetings, subtle enough no one else would catch it. He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he wasn’t looking.

But he was.

It was the Wednesday client call that made it obvious: he needed to de-escalate with Lily. Just before the call, she leaned in to “help”

with the mic, vanilla soft in the air. Her eyes dropped to his tie.

“That color makes you look more like a partner already.”

Matt adjusted the knot at his throat, covering the heat crawling up his neck. The client logged on before he could answer, but her words echoed for the rest of the day, tucked in the back of his mind where he couldn’t shake them. This was getting out of hand. He needed to cool it off.

That night, Sarah asked about the long hours. He blamed Holloway, deadlines, and the push for partner. All of it true. None of it the full story. The real reason was across the hall, wearing a skirt just short enough to hold his attention longer than it should.

Lily played her part carefully. A joke shared over lunch. .

“good luck”

text before a pitch. Her hand brushing his sleeve as she leaned past him in the copy room. Each move deliberate, but never too much. And every time, he felt himself leaning closer, not even realizing how far he’d come.

Near the end of the month, when the office was nearly empty, Lily appeared in his doorway with two takeout containers.

“You need to eat,”

she said, holding one out.

He hesitated before taking it.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

Her smile was soft, deliberate.

“I wanted to.”

Their hands brushed as he took the box. Quick. Nothing. Everything.

He cleared his throat, setting the food on his desk like it might burn him.

“Listen, Lily. I think things are getting confusing. I’m happily married, and I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

Lily’s gaze held his, unflinching. Then her lips curved, slow and knowing.

“I don’t have the wrong idea.”

That night, Matt told himself it had to stop. That he was stronger than this.

That was the last night he could call himself a faithful husband.