«Playing with Fire»
«Bloody hell,» Tom threw his head back, laughing so hard he nearly choked. «You actually said that to her face? Shot her down in front of everyone?»
«What choice did I have?» James drummed his fingers nervously on the table. «Im married. She wouldnt leave me alonegot completely out of hand. The whole departments been side-eyeing us for weeks.»
«Ah, mate, youve never been one for attention like this,» Tom teased. «Most blokes wouldve jumped at the chance, but youve got to play the saint.»
«Weve got different ideas of loyalty,» James shot back, though his tired eyes gave him away. «At first, it was just hintsI pretended not to notice. Didnt want to be rude or make a scene.»
«And that, my friend, was your mistake,» Tom said, raising an eyebrow pointedly. «Your silence gave her hope. Made her think she had a shot.»
«What does she even want from me? Plenty of single blokes around!»
«For women like her, a wedding ring isnt a stop signits a challenge,» Tom mused. «Proof youre worth chasing.»
Sophie blew into their department like a sudden spring breeze. She wasnt classically beautifulsharp features, a low, husky voicebut when she smiled, the whole room lit up. HR later admitted theyd nearly turned her down until that smile changed their minds.
At first, James genuinely liked her. Her energy and quick wit were a breath of fresh air in their dull office routine. He helped her settle in, shared advicenothing more than friendly kindness. A devoted family man, he saw her as a bright colleague, almost a little sister.
But then the lines blurred. Her jokes turned suggestive, her touches lingering. James, an introvert unused to outright advances, froze. His usual moral compass spun wildly. He started avoiding her, skipping lunches together. But retreat only spurred her on.
***
James was in his mid-thirties, the kind of man who kept his life meticulously ordered. Tall but slightly stooped, as if trying to take up less space. Dark hair, neatly trimmed, with early greys at the templesheredity mixed with stress. Calm eyes, but with a quiet exhaustion behind them. He wore thin-framed glasses, which hed nervously remove and rub at the bridge of his nose when uneasy. His wardrobe was practical: muted shirts, tailored trousers. No flash, no fuss.
He hated crowds, office gossip, flirtingit all drained him. Silence, order, and deep focus were his comfort zones. Conflict terrified him; hed rather retreat than fight.
Yet beneath that was an unshakable loyalty to his family. Emily and the kids werent just part of his lifethey *were* his life. His fidelity wasnt performative; it was as natural as breathing.
Sophie was hooked from day one. He was the only man who didnt fall for her charms. Conquering him wasnt just about attentionit was about proving her worth. If a «perfect» family man cracked for her, it meant she mattered. And experience told her no marriage was truly happy.
Two weeks in, Sophie gushed to her friend Alice about her «connection» with James. Alice listened, uneasy.
«*Another* married one? Sophie, stop. Hes got two kids!»
«Oh, details!» Sophie waved her off. «Hes miserable, I can tell. Trapped in some perfect little cage. His wifeEmilyshe doesnt *get* him. Shes just his housekeeper. His souls screaming for freedom!»
«How dyou know? Have you even met her?»
«I dont need to! Look at himso rigid, so *buttoned-up*. Thats not normal. Theres pain under that. He just wont admit it. Im going to help him.»
«Christ, you sound like a bad rom-com,» Alice groaned. «You dont want to *help* him. You want him because hes off-limits. This isnt a gameits his *life*.»
«You dont understand,» Sophie said fiercely. «Were *meant* to be. His perfect family? Ill bet its all a lie. Nothings perfect. And Ill prove it.»
***
A work trip to Manchester became Jamess nightmare. Guess who volunteered to join him? With clients, Sophie was flawlessso James almost relaxed. Until a knock came at his hotel room late that night.
«My rooms freezing,» Sophie said, wrapped in a robe that barely hid the silk beneath.
Jamess stomach dropped. Panic clawed at his throat. He pictured Emilys trusting eyes.
«WaitIll get you a blanket,» he muttered, turning away. «Here.»
Sophie pouted but took it.
«Youve locked yourself in a cage and thrown away the key,» she said, leaving. «Pity. Theres a different man under thereI know it.»
James leaned his forehead against the door, pulse pounding. Relief mixed with pityfor her, for himself, for the whole mess.
Back at the office, Sophie seemed to move on. James finally breathed. Until she asked for a lift home. He refused.
«You find me *that* repulsive?»
«Youre brilliant, Sophie,» he said carefully. «But I love my wife. Ive got a family»
«So thats the *only* reason?» Her eyes sparked dangerously.
«No» He floundered, but she was already gone. He instantly regretted his fumbling. And rightly so.
That night, a sharp jab woke him. Emilys furious whisper cut through the dark.
«James, are you *insane*? What kind of woman sends photos like this at midnight?»
He sat bolt upright. On his phone: Sophie, barely covered in lace.
«Em, its not what you think» Voice cracking, he confessed everything.
Emily was silent a long moment. Then a heavy sigh.
«You daft, naive sod,» she said, equal parts anger and affection. «Fine. I believe you. Because I know youre not stupid enough to cheat. But tell her this: if it happens again, Ill march into that office and put on a show thatll put *EastEnders* to shame.»
James nodded into the dark. Next day, he called Sophie into a meeting room. She strode in, glowing, expecting surrender.
«Sophie, youve crossed every line,» he said, steadying his voice.
«Oh, relax.» She stepped closer, reaching for his face. «She doesnt deserve you. Trust me.»
James recoiled. Her hand hung in mid-air.
«Whatre you implying?»
«That your perfect lifes a lie,» she purred, venomous. «From the outside, its all lovely: devoted wife, little princess daughter, heir-and-a-spare…»
«We *are* happy.»
«Wake *up*, James!» She slammed her palms on the table. «Your *son* looks *nothing* like you! Your daughters your double, but *Ben*? Not a trace!»
Ice flooded Jamess veins. That triumphant smirk erased his last shred of sympathy.
«And I can prove it.» She slapped a paper on the table. «*Paternity probability: 0%.* Handy having friends in labs, eh? Believe me now?»
James met her eyes. Cold, clear rage surfaced at last.
«I tolerated you bothering *me*. But my kids? *Never.* Bens not my blood. Thats mine and Emilys business. But since youre so obsessed: his parentsEmilys sister and her husbanddied. Hes *our* son now. *Happy*?»
Sophie paled. «II didnt know.»
«I dont know how you got this testif its even real. But I see you now. Youre not just lonely. Youre *dangerous*. Resign by tonight, or I go to the police. And if you *ever* come near my kids» His quiet voice turned lethal. «youll wish it *was* the police.»
Sophie quit that afternoon. James came home early, finding six-year-old Ben piecing together a puzzle while eight-year-old Lily did homework. He hugged them both too long, breathing in the scent of their hair.
That night, once they slept, James sat across from Emily.
«We have to tell him,» he said softly. «Ben deserves the truth from usnot someone else. The sooner, the better.»
Emilys eyes glistenednot with grief, but relief. «Im scared.»
«Me too. But well do it together.»
A week later, they threw a small family celebration. After cake, James knelt before Ben.
«Mate, Mum and I need to tell you something important. About how much we love you.» He took a breath. «Remember how we said familys what matters most? And that it comes in all shapes? Well… Im not your birth dad. Your first mum and dad were Mums sister and her husbandthey were wonderful, but theyre not here anymore. Were your parents by the most important choice: *love*.»
Ben thought, then simply hugged them and asked for more cake. The weight lifted. In that ordinary momentcrumbs on the table, soft chatterSophie and her games faded into nothing. Everything was as it should be.
