**Playing with Fire**
«Blimey,» Tom threw his head back, choking with laughter. «You actually said it to her face? In front of everyone?»
«What else could I do?» James drummed his fingers on the table, restless. «Im married. And she wouldnt leave me alonegot bolder every day. The whole departments been talking.»
«Mate, youre too modest,» Tom teased. «Anyone else wouldve taken the chance, but youre acting like a bloody saint.»
«Weve got different ideas about loyalty,» James shot back mildly, though exhaustion flickered in his eyes. «At first, it was just hints. I ignored themdidnt want to be rude or make a scene.»
«Thats exactly where you went wrong,» Tom said, raising a meaningful brow. «Your silence gave her hope.»
«What does she even want from me? Plenty of single blokes around!»
«For women like her, a wedding rings not a barrierits a challenge,» Tom mused. «Proof youre worth having.»
Sophie burst into their office like a sudden spring breeze. She wasnt classically beautifulher features were sharp, her voice low and husky. But when she smiled, the world seemed to shift. The HR manager later admitted shed nearly rejected Sophie until that smile changed her mind.
At first, James genuinely liked her. Her energy and wit were a breath of fresh air in the dreary office routine. He helped her settle in, shared advicenothing more. A family man at heart, he saw her as a bright colleague, almost a younger sister.
Then the lines blurred. Her jokes turned suggestive, her touches lingering. James, an introvert unused to such boldness, faltered. His moral compass, always steady, spun wildly. He avoided her, skipped lunches togetherbut retreat only emboldened her.
***
James was in his mid-thirties, a man who kept his life scrupulously ordered. Tall but slightly stooped, as if trying to seem smaller. Dark hair, neatly trimmed, already silvering at the templesheredity and stress. Calm eyes, but beneath them lurked a quiet exhaustionnot from work, but from the strain of holding himself together. He wore thin-framed glasses, which hed remove and rub nervously when agitated. His clothes were subduedplain shirts, tailored trousers. No flash, no fuss.
He hated crowds, loathed office politics. Flirting, schemingit all felt foreign, draining. Silence, order, focusthat was his world. Conflict terrified him; hed rather swallow his words than face a fight.
Yet beneath that lay an unshakable corehis love for his family. Emma and the kids werent just part of his life; they *were* his life. His loyalty wasnt performativeit was as natural as breathing.
Sophie wanted him from day one. He was the only man immune to her charms. Seducing him wasnt just about attentionit was about proving her worth. A married mans fall would be her ultimate validation. Experience told her every «perfect family man» hid secrets.
Within weeks, Sophie gushed to her friend Lily about her feelings for James. Lily listened, growing uneasy.
«Another married one? Sophie, stop. Hes got two kids.»
«Oh, details! Hes miserabletrapped in a gilded cage. That wife of his Emma she doesnt *get* him. Shes just a glorified housekeeper. His souls screaming for freedom!»
«How dyou know? Have you even met her?»
«I dont need to! I see *him*. So buttoned-up, so *proper*thats not normal. Theres pain underneath. Hes scared to admit it. I want to help himfree the real man.»
«Soph, you sound like a bad romance novel. You dont want to *help* him. You want him because hes off-limits. This isnt a gameits peoples lives!»
«You dont understand, Lily. This is *my* life. Were meant to be. Hes lost. That perfect family? Ill find the cracks. Nothings perfect. And Ill prove it.»
***
The business trip to Manchester tested James. Who volunteered to join him? Sophie, of course. With clients, she was professionalism itself, and James nearly relaxeduntil a knock came at his hotel door late that night.
«My rooms freezing,» Sophie stood there, wrapped in a robeclearly nothing underneath.
Jamess stomach dropped. Panic, thick and sour, clogged his throat. He pictured Emmas trusting eyes.
«WaitIll get you my spare blanket,» he muttered, turning away. «Here.»
Sophie pouted but took it.
«Youve locked yourself in a cage and thrown away the key,» she tossed over her shoulder. «Pity. Theres a different man underneathI know it.»
James leaned his forehead against the closed door, pulse hammering. Relief warred with a strange, heavy pityfor her, for himself, for this absurd mess.
Back at work, Sophie seemed to forget him. James began to breathe againuntil she asked for a lift home. He refused.
«Do I disgust you?»
«Youre brilliant, Sophie,» he said. «But I love my wife. Ive got a family»
«So thats it?» Her eyes sparked with dangerous amusement.
«No» He fumbled for gentler words, but she was gone. He instantly regretted his hesitation. And rightly so.
That night, a sharp nudge woke him. Emmas furious whisper cut through the fog of sleep.
«James, have you lost your mind? What kind of woman sends *these* photos at midnight?»
He sat up, heart racing. On his phone: Sophie in lace lingerie, posed provocatively.
«Em, its not what you think!» Voice cracking, he confessed everything.
Emma was silent a long moment. Then a heavy sigh.
«My daft, noble fool,» she said, anger and fondness tangled. «Fine. I believe you. But tell her this: if it happens again, Ill march into that office and make a scene thatll put telly dramas to shame.»
James nodded in the dark. Next day, he called Sophie into a meeting room. She entered, glowing, expecting surrender.
«Sophie, youve crossed every line,» he began, steadying his voice.
«Oh, stop,» she stepped closer, reaching for his cheek. «She doesnt deserve you. Trust me.»
James recoiled. Her hand hung in the air.
«Whatre you implying?»
«That your perfect lifes a lie,» her voice turned syrupy, venomous. «From the outsidepicture-perfect: loving wife, little princess daughter, heir and a spare…»
«We *are* happy.»
«Wake up, James!» She loomed over the desk. «Your son looks *nothing* like you! Your daughters your double, but Bennot a trace of you!»
Jamess blood ran cold. He stared at her triumphant face, the last shreds of sympathy dying.
«And I can prove it.» She slapped a printout on the desk. «See? Paternity probability: 0%. Useful having friends in labs. Believe me now?»
James met her gaze. The anger hed suppressed for months finally broke freeicy, clear.
«I tolerated your advances. But my children? *Never* touch them. Bens not my blood. Thats between me and Emma. But since youre so keen on digginghis parents, Emmas sister and her husband, died. Hes *ours* now. Happy? Satisfied?»
«II didnt know,» Sophie whispered, bravado crumbling.
«I dont know how you got that testif its even real. Or *why*. I thought you were just lonely. Now I see youre dangerous. Resign. If your notice isnt on the directors desk by tonight, Im going to the police. And if you *ever* come near my kids» his quiet voice turned lethal, «*youll wish it was just the police.*»
Sophie quit that day. James came home early. Went to the kids roomsix-year-old Ben piecing together a puzzle, eight-year-old Grace doing homework. He hugged them both, lingering, breathing in the scent of their hair.
That night, once they slept, James sat across from Emma.
«We need to tell him,» he said softly. «Ben should hear it from us, not a stranger. Sooner the better.»
Emmas 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 said,
«Ben, Mummy and I need to talk to you about something important. About how much we love you.»
He knelt to meet Bens eyes.
«Remember how we say familys what matters most? And that families come in all sorts. Ben Im not your birth dad. Your first mum and dad were Mummys sister and her husbandthey were wonderful, but theyre not here anymore. Mummy and Iwere your parents by choice. By heart.»
Ben thought, then simply hugged them and asked for more cake. The storm cloud lifted, leaving only crumbs and quiet talkno space for Sophie or her delusions. Everything settled, right where it belonged.
