So, I stood there, in front of her desk, like a fucking statue, waiting for her to say something.

Anything.

Jesus, I was turning into a pussy.

“He went to a strip club,” she finally said.

I barely made out the words as they left her lips. She stared at the cup in her hands as the steam rose, and I could see her reliving it. Like a victim of a senseless crime, she sat there and recalled every terrible moment, and while it happened right in front of me, I was powerless to stop it.

And it was all because of him.

“What happened?” I asked, instantly moving toward her.

Grabbing one of the extra chairs near her desk, I pulled it close and settled in next to her. There were no tears, but her eyes were still swollen from those she’d shed hours earlier.

“He says that nothing happened, but how would I know?” she pleaded, her voice heavy with emotion. “This isn’t us, Roman. This isn’t how we’re supposed to be. We’re supposed to build a life together here, not continue two separate ones simultaneously. How do I trust a man I don’t even know anymore?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t. But I’d be happy to kick his ass for you,” I said, hoping to lift her spirits because mine definitely were. This was exactly what I’d been hoping for. Not that I enjoyed seeing her hurt. I’d gladly make good on my words and track that bastard down this second, if it meant making her happy again.

“No, that’s not necessary. It’s something we need to work out on our own. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped this on you. You’ve got enough to deal with,” she said, suddenly shifting into gear. She turned away from me, gathering loose papers from her desk, and she frantically tried to organize the lack of a mess in front of her.

I sat there, dumbfounded by her words. “You’re not leaving him?”

She briefly glanced at me, placing a paper clip on a report I’d given her the day before. “No. Why?”

“Why?” I muttered under my breath, setting down my coffee. “Why? Because the guy is a douche bag who doesn’t deserve you. Why? Because he treats you like you’re nothing more than typical when you’re anything but. Why?” I repeated, feeling my fists tighten at my sides.

“Sorry,” I said, backing down.

Without realizing it, I’d jumped up and began pacing around the small space in front of her desk, like a caged lion, as I’d loudly listed off the many reasons my assistant should leave her boyfriend.

It was completely unprofessional.

And worthless because she’d obviously made up her mind already.