«Playing with Fire»
«Blimey, mate,» Thomas threw his head back, laughing so hard he nearly choked. «You actually said it to her face? Right in front of everyone?»
«What else was I supposed to do?» James drummed his fingers nervously on the table. «Im married. And she just wouldnt back offgot bolder every day. The whole departments been side-eyeing us.»
«Right, right, Mr. Modest,» Thomas teased. «Not used to that kind of attention, are you? Any other bloke wouldve taken the chance, but youre playing the saint.»
«Weve got different ideas about loyalty,» James shot back, though his eyes betrayed exhaustion. «At first, it was just hintsI ignored them. Didnt want to be rude or make a scene.»
«And that, my friend, was your biggest mistake,» Thomas said, raising a brow. «Your silence gave her hope. Made her think she had a shot.»
«What does she even want from me? Plenty of single lads around!»
«For women like her, a wedding ring isnt a stop signits a challenge,» Thomas mused. «Proof youre worth chasing.»
Emily burst into their department like a sudden spring breeze. She wasnt classically beautifulsharp features, a low, slightly raspy voice. But when she smiled, the whole room shifted. The HR manager later admitted shed been ready to reject Emilyuntil that smile changed her mind.
James had liked her at first. Her energy and quick wit were a breath of fresh air in their dreary office routine. Hed helped her settle in, shared advicejust friendly, no ulterior motives. A devoted family man, he saw her as a bright colleague, almost like a younger sister.
But then the boundaries blurred. Emilys jokes turned suggestive, her touches lingered. James, an introvert unused to such boldness, froze. His usual moral compass spun wildly. He started avoiding her, skipping lunches together. But retreating only egged her on.
***
James was in his mid-thirties, the kind of man who kept his life meticulously orderedalmost like it took effort. Tall but slightly stooped, as if trying to appear smaller. Dark hair, neatly trimmed, with early greying at the templesheredity plus stress. Calm eyes, but with a quiet weariness beneath, not from work but from some inner tension. He wore thin-framed glasses, which hed nervously push up or remove when stressed. His clothes were simple: muted shirts, tailored trousers. Nothing flashy.
James hated crowds. Office politics, flirtationall of it felt like a draining foreign language. He thrived in quiet, order, deep focus. Conflict terrified him; hed rather stay silent than confront.
But beneath that, he had an unshakable core: his family. His wife, Sarah, and their 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 usual tricks. Seducing him wasnt just about attentionit was about proving something to herself. If a «good,» faithful man fell for her, it meant she was worth something. And experience told her no «perfect family man» was truly flawless.
Within weeks, Emily was gushing to her friend Lucy about her «feelings» for James. Lucy listened, uneasy.
«*Another* married one? Emily, stop. Hes got two kids.»
«Oh, details! Hes miserable, I can tell. Trapped in some golden cage. His wifeSarahdoesnt *get* him. Shes just made him comfortable, but his souls screaming for freedom!»
«How would you even know that? Have you met her? Seen them together?»
«I dont *need* to! I see *him*. Hes so proper, so buttoned-up… thats not normal. Theres pain under that. Hes just scared to admit it. I want to help him. Free him.»
«Em, you sound like a bad romance novel. You dont want to *help* him. You want him because hes off-limits. This isnt a gameits his *life*.»
«You dont understand, Luce. This *is* my life. I *feel* were meant to be. Hes lost. And that perfect family? Bet its not so perfect. Nothing is. Ill prove it.»
***
The business trip to Manchester was Jamess nightmare. Guess who volunteered to go with him? In front of clients, Emily was the picture of professionalism, and James almost relaxed. Until the knock came at his hotel room late that night.
«My rooms freezing,» Emily said, wrapped in a robe that made it obvious whator rather, what *wasnt*underneath.
Jamess heart dropped. Panic, thick and sour, clogged his throat. He pictured Sarahs faceher steady, trusting eyes.
«Wait here,» he managed, turning away. «Ill get you a blanket.»
Emily pouted but took it.
«Youve locked yourself in a cage and thrown away the key,» she said, leaving. «Pity. You should let go sometime. I *know* theres another man in there.»
James shut the door, leaning his forehead against it, pulse hammering in his ears. Relief mixed with a strange, heavy pityfor her, for himself, for the whole mess.
Back at work, Emily seemed to forget him. James started to relax. Then she asked for a ride home. He refused, stiffly.
«Do I disgust you?»
«Youre… vibrant,» he said. «But I love my wife. Ive got a family»
«So thats the *only* reason?» Her eyes glinted, dangerous.
«No» He fumbled for gentle words, but she was already gone. He instantly regretted his hesitation.
That night, a sharp shake woke him. Sarahs furious whisper cut through the haze of sleep.
«James, are you *mad*? What kind of woman sends you *this* at midnight?»
He sat up, heart pounding. On his phone: Emily, in lace barely covering anything.
«Sarah, its not what you think» His voice cracked as he explained everything, his discomfort laid bare.
Sarah was silent a long moment. Then a heavy sigh.
«You daft, naive man,» she muttered, anger and fondness tangled in her voice. «Fine. I believe you. Because I know youd never be that stupid. But tell her this: if she *ever* pulls this again, Ill come to that office and put on a show thatll put *EastEnders* to shame.»
James nodded in the dark. The next day, he called Emily into a meeting room. She walked in, glowing, expecting surrender.
«Emily, youve crossed a line,» he said, forcing his voice steady.
«Oh, *please*,» she stepped closer, reaching for his cheek. «She doesnt deserve you. Trust me.»
James recoiled. Her hand hung in the air.
«What are you implying?»
«That your perfect life is a lie,» she purred, voice syrupy and venomous. «From the outside, its all lovely: devoted wife, little princess daughter, son and heir…»
«We *are* happy.»
«Wake *up*, James!» She loomed over the desk. «Your son looks *nothing* like you! Your daughters your twin, but *Tom*? Not a trace of you in him!»
Jamess blood turned to ice. He stared at her triumphant smirk, the last shreds of pity dissolving.
«And I can *prove* it,» she slapped a printout on the desk. «Look. Paternity probability: 0%. Handy having friends in useful places. Well? Convinced now?»
James looked up slowly. The anger hed bottled for months finally broke freecold, clear.
«I tolerated you pushing *me*. But my *kids*? Thats where it ends. Tom isnt mine by blood. But thats *only* mine and Sarahs business. Since youre so keen on digging: his parentsSarahs sister and her husbanddied. Hes *ours* now. Happy? Satisfied your curiosity?»
Emily paled. «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. By tonight. If not, Im going to the police. And if you *ever* come near my kids» His quiet voice turned lethal. «*Police* will be the least of your worries.»
Emily quit that day. James came home early, finding six-year-old Tom piecing together a puzzle while eight-year-old Lily did homework. He hugged them both, holding on tighter than usual, breathing in the scent of their hair.
That evening, with the kids asleep, James sat across from Sarah.
«We have to tell him,» he said softly. «Tom needs to hear the truth from usnot someone else. The sooner, the better.»
Sarahs eyes wellednot with grief, but relief.
«Im scared,» she admitted.
«Me too. But well do it together.»
A week later, they had a small family celebration. After cake, James crouched to Toms level.
«Tom, Mum and I need to talk to you about something important. About how much we love you.»
He took a breath. «Remember how weve 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 Sarahs sister and her husbandthey were wonderful, but they arent here anymore. Sarah and Iwe chose you. Thats the *best* kind of family.»
Tom was quiet, processing. Then he simply hugged them and asked for more cake. The heavy cloud over them lifted, leaving only calm. And in that ordinary momentcrumbs on the table, quiet chatterthere was no room for Emily or her delusions. Everything was as it should be.
