Playing with Fire
«You’re joking,» Tom threw his head back, laughing so hard he nearly choked. «You told her straight to her face? In front of everyone?»
«What else was I supposed to do?» Mark drummed his fingers nervously on the table. «I’m married. She wouldnt leave me alone, completely lost all sense of boundaries. The whole departments been whispering.»
«Mate, youre too soft,» his friend teased. «Most blokes wouldve jumped at the chance, but youre playing the saint.»
«We clearly have different ideas about loyalty,» Mark shot back, though exhaustion flickered in his eyes. «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 raised an eyebrow meaningfully. «Your silence gave her hope. Encouraged her.»
«What does she even want from me? There are plenty of single blokes around!»
«For women like her, a wedding ring isnt a barrierits a challenge,» Tom remarked philosophically. «Proof youre worth chasing.»
Sophie burst into their office like a sudden spring breeze. She wasnt a classic beautysharp features, a low, husky voicebut when she smiled, the whole room seemed to brighten. The HR manager later admitted shed been about to reject her, but that smile changed everything.
At first, Mark genuinely liked her. Her energy and wit were a breath of fresh air in the dull office routine. He helped her settle in, shared advice. To him, it was just kindnessno hidden meaning. A devoted family man, he saw her as a bright colleague, almost a younger sister.
But boundaries blurred. Sophies jokes grew suggestive, her touches lingered too long. Mark, an introvert unused to bold advances, froze. His usual moral compass spun wildly. He began avoiding her, skipping shared lunches. But retreat only spurred her on.
***
Mark was in his mid-thirties, a man who carefully maintained order in his life. Tall but slightly stooped, as if trying to seem smaller. Dark hair, neatly trimmed, with early silver at the templesheredity and stress. Calm eyes, but beneath them, a constant wearinessnot from work, but from tension. He wore thin-framed glasses, which hed remove to rub his brow when anxious. His clothes were practical: plain shirts, tailored trousers. No flashy details.
He avoided crowds. Flirting, office politicsit all felt like a foreign, exhausting language. His world was quiet, structured, focused. He dreaded conflict, choosing silence over confrontation.
Yet, at his core stood an unshakable fortress: his family. Emma and the kids werent just part of his lifethey were his purpose. His loyalty wasnt virtue; it was as natural as breathing.
Sophie had fixated on him from day one. He was the only man immune to her charms. Seducing him wasnt just about attentionit was proof she was desirable. Conquering a devoted husband was her ultimate validation. If a man like him fell, shed finally believe in her own worth.
Two weeks in, she gushed to her friend Alice about her feelings for Mark. Alice listened, uneasy.
«Another married man? Sophie, stop. Hes got two kids.»
«Oh, details! Hes trapped, cant you see? That wife of hisEmmashe doesnt understand him. Shes just a homemaker. His soul craves freedom!»
«How do you know? Have you even met her?»
«I dont need to! I see him. So buttoned-up, so rigid Thats not natural. Theres pain beneath. I want to help him. Show him who he really is.»
«Soph, listen to yourself. You dont want to help himyou want him because hes off-limits. This isnt some romance novel. Its real life!»
«You dont get it, Alice. This is my life. Were meant to be. Hes lost. And his perfect family? Please. Nothings perfect. Ill prove it.»
***
A business trip to Manchester became Marks nightmare. Guess who volunteered to join? Sophie played the perfect professional in meetings, and Mark nearly relaxeduntil a knock came at his hotel door late that night.
«My rooms freezing,» Sophie stood there, wrapped in a robe that barely concealed silk lingerie beneath.
Marks stomach dropped. Panic, thick and suffocating, tightened his throat. He pictured Emmas trusting eyes.
«WaitIll get you a spare blanket,» he muttered, turning away. «Here.»
Sophie pouted but took it.
«Youve locked yourself in a cage and lost the key,» she tossed over her shoulder as she left. «Pity. You should let go sometime. I know theres more to you.»
Mark shut the door, pressing his forehead against it, pulse roaring in his ears. Relief mixed with pityfor her, for himself, for this absurd mess.
Back at work, Sophie seemed to forget him. Mark exhaleduntil she asked for a lift home. Reluctantly, he refused.
«Do I disgust you?»
«Youre brilliant, Sophie,» he said carefully. «But I love my wife. I have a family»
«So thats all it is?» Her eyes sparked dangerously.
«No» He faltered, but she was already gone. Regret hit instantly. And rightly so.
That night, a sharp jab woke him. Emmas furious whisper cut through the haze of sleep.
«Mark, have you lost your mind? What kind of woman sends photos like this at midnight?»
He sat up, heart hammering. His phone screen showed Sophie in lace, posing provocatively.
«Em, its not what you think» Voice cracking, he confessed everything.
Emma stayed silent, then sighed heavily.
«My naive fool,» she murmured, anger laced with affection. «Fine. I believe you. But tell her this: If it happens again, Ill come to that office and give everyone a show they wont forget.»
Mark nodded in the dark.
The next day, he called Sophie into a meeting room. She strode in, glowing, expecting surrender.
«Sophie, youve crossed every line,» he began, steadying his voice.
«Oh, relax,» she stepped closer, reaching for his cheek. «She doesnt deserve you.»
Mark recoiled. Her hand hung mid-air.
«What are you implying?»
«That your perfect lifes a lie,» her voice turned honeyed, venomous. «From the outside, its idyllic: loving wife, princess daughter, heir son»
«We *are* happy.»
«Wake up, Mark!» She loomed over the desk. «Your son looks nothing like you! Your daughters your twin, but James? Not a trace of you!»
Ice flooded Marks veins. He stared at her triumphant sneer, the last shreds of pity dissolving.
«And I can prove it.» She slapped a printout on the table. «See? Paternity probability: 0%. Handy having connections, isnt it? Believe me now?»
Mark met her gaze. The anger hed suppressed finally broke freecold, clear.
«I tolerated your advances. But my children? Dont. James isnt mine by blood. Thats between me and Emma. Since youre so keen on digginghis parents, Emmas sister and her husband, died. Hes ours now. Happy? Satisfied?»
«II didnt know,» Sophie whispered, confidence crumbling.
«Neither do I know how you got this testif its even real. Before, I thought you were just lonely. Now I see youre dangerous. Resign by tonight, or I go to the police. And if you ever come near my kids» His quiet tone chilled her to the bone, «youll wish it was just the police.»
Sophie quit that day.
Mark came home early, finding six-year-old James piecing together a puzzle while eight-year-old Lily did homework. He hugged them both, lingering, breathing in the familiar scent of their hair.
That evening, after bedtime, he sat across from Emma.
«We need to tell him,» he said softly. «He should hear it from usnot a stranger. The sooner, the better.»
Emmas eyes glistenednot with grief, but relief. «Im scared.»
«Me too. But well do it together.»
A week later, they held a small family celebration. After cake, Mark knelt before James.
«Buddy, Mummy and I need to talk to you about something important. About how much we love you.» He paused. «Remember how we said family comes in all shapes? Well, James Im not your birth dad. Your first parents were Mummys sister and her husbandthey were wonderful, but theyre not here anymore. Mummy and I chose to be your parents. With all our hearts.»
James thought, then simply hugged them and asked for more cake.
The storm passed. In the quiet comfort of crumbs and laughter, Sophies shadow vanished. Everything was as it should be.
