—
Vincent Charbonneau had always known he was destined for greatness. As the CEO of *Charbonneau Blades*, the world’s premier cooking knife brand, he commanded respect with a single glance, his presence sharp and refined like the products his company produced. From the outside, he was the epitome of success-wealthy, influential, and admired. But there was one thing, one person, that truly ignited his desires, made him feel alive in ways no amount of power or money could.
Rody Lamoree.
Rody had joined the company just over a year ago, a charming and skilled marketing strategist with an effortless charisma that drew people in. From the moment they met, Vincent had been captivated by him. It wasn’t just Rody’s striking appearance-those intense green eyes, that thick auburn hair Vincent fantasized about running his hands through-it was the way Rody moved through the world with a confidence that bordered on recklessness. He was married, of course, but Vincent didn’t care. He wanted Rody. Needed him.
It started innocently enough-late nights at the office, the two of them poring over campaign strategies, exchanging ideas and subtle glances. Rody was a devoted employee, working tirelessly for the success of the brand. But there was something else, a connection that went beyond professional admiration.
Vincent craved that connection, and he pursued it with the same relentless precision he applied to every aspect of his life.
—
The sound of the office door locking was a trigger for Vincent’s pulse to quicken. It was late-well past midnight-and the sprawling expanse of *Charbonneau Blades* headquarters was deserted, save for the two of them. Rody stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the city lights. Vincent watched him for a moment, savoring the sight, before approaching.
“Another long night,” Rody commented, his voice low and rough, as Vincent stepped close.
Vincent’s hand found Rody’s waist, his fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. “I don’t mind when it’s with you,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to the side of Rody’s neck. He felt Rody’s breath hitch, a subtle sign that made Vincent’s heart race.
Rody turned to face him, their lips meeting in a heated kiss. It was always like this-intense, desperate, as if they were both starved for each other. Rody’s hands roamed over Vincent’s body, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.
Vincent loved this-the way Rody held him, the way his strong hands gripped his hips, keeping him close. It was in these moments, when Rody chose to be with him instead of going home to his wife, that Vincent felt truly needed.
They moved together towards the sleek, modern desk that dominated Vincent’s office. Vincent pushed Rody onto the edge of it, his hands working quickly to undo the buttons of Rody’s shirt, exposing the tanned, muscular chest beneath. He kissed his way down Rody’s torso, relishing the taste of his skin, the way Rody’s hands tangled in his hair, urging him on.
Vincent knelt between Rody’s legs, looking up at him with a hunger that had nothing to do with power or control. This was about need-his need for Rody, for the way Rody made him feel alive, desired. His hands slid up Rody’s thighs as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin there.
“Vincent…” Rody’s voice was a low growl, filled with longing and something else, something that made Vincent’s heart race with excitement.
He took his time, savoring every moment, every sound Rody made as he pleasured him. Vincent loved everything about this-the way Rody’s body responded to him, the way his grip on Vincent’s hair tightened, pulling him closer, urging him to keep going. This was where Vincent felt most powerful, most in control, and yet, it was also where he felt most vulnerable.
When Rody came, his fingers clenched in Vincent’s hair, a deep groan escaping his lips, Vincent felt a surge of satisfaction. He stayed on his knees, pressing gentle kisses to Rody’s inner thigh, relishing the feeling of Rody’s hands still in his hair, stroking softly now, as if in thanks.
Vincent stood, pulling Rody to his feet and kissing him deeply. They moved together to the couch by the window, where Rody laid back, pulling Vincent down on top of him. Vincent loved the way Rody’s arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close as they made love. There was something intoxicating about the feel of Rody’s strong arms around him, the way their bodies fit together perfectly.
Rody kissed him deeply, his hands tracing the line of Vincent’s back, down to his hips, pulling him closer. Vincent groaned into the kiss, losing himself in the sensation, in the way Rody’s body moved beneath him, urging him on, needing him just as much as Vincent needed Rody.
When it was over, they lay together on the couch, the city lights casting a soft glow over their intertwined bodies. Vincent rested his head on Rody’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing.
“I should go home,” Rody murmured after a long silence, his voice thick with exhaustion.
Vincent tightened his grip on Rody, unwilling to let him go just yet. “Stay,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
Rody sighed, his hand stroking through Vincent’s hair in a comforting gesture. “You know I can’t.”
But he didn’t move, and Vincent didn’t press the issue. He knew Rody would leave eventually, would go back to his wife and his life outside these walls. But for now, he was here, and that was enough.
Vincent closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of Rody’s body against his, the feel of his hands still gently running through his hair. He loved this-loved Rody, even if he could never say it out loud.
Because in the end, it wasn’t about words. It was about the quiet moments like this, when it was just the two of them, and Vincent could pretend that Rody was his, if only for a little while.
He would take what he could get, for as long as it lasted. Because as much as he loved being wanted, loved being needed-he knew he needed Rody more.
—
The sun was beginning to rise over the city, casting a pale light across Vincent’s office. Rody stirred beneath him, his arms tightening briefly around Vincent before loosening, signaling the end of their shared warmth. The sound of the city waking up outside reminded Vincent that this moment of peace was fleeting. He looked up at Rody, who was already gazing down at him with a mixture of tenderness and guilt.
“I really should go,” Rody whispered, his voice heavy with regret.
Vincent propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes locking onto Rody’s. “You don’t have to, you know.”
Rody gave him a sad smile, brushing a stray lock of hair from Vincent’s forehead. “I do. I have to get home before Manon wakes up. She’ll wonder where I am.”
The mention of Manon, Rody’s wife, was like a cold slap to Vincent’s face. He forced himself to nod, pulling away from Rody and sitting up, the loss of contact leaving him feeling empty.
Rody dressed quickly, his movements efficient and practiced. Vincent watched him, his heart twisting in his chest. He hated this part-the part where Rody left, where reality intruded on the bubble they created in the quiet hours of the night. He knew Rody’s situation was complicated. He knew Manon didn’t deserve this. But he couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Will I see you tonight?” Vincent asked, his voice carefully neutral.
Rody hesitated, his hand pausing on the doorknob. “I don’t know. Manon’s been… suspicious lately. She’s noticed I’ve been working late more often. I need to be careful.”
Vincent’s chest tightened with jealousy, though he tried to mask it. “I understand,” he said, though the words tasted bitter on his tongue.
Rody gave him one last, lingering look before slipping out the door, leaving Vincent alone in the early morning light.
—
When Rody returned home, the apartment was quiet. He slipped inside, careful not to make any noise as he headed toward the bedroom. But when he pushed the door open, he was met with the sight of Manon sitting up in bed, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.
“Late night at the office?” she asked, her voice deceptively calm.
Rody froze, guilt immediately knotting in his stomach. “Yeah, we had some last-minute changes to the campaign. Vincent wanted to make sure everything was perfect.”
Manon’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Vincent. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with him lately. More than usual.”
Rody forced a smile, trying to keep his voice light. “Well, he is the boss. It’s part of the job.”
Manon’s expression softened, but only a little. “I know, Rody. I know you’re dedicated to your work, and I appreciate that. But… I can’t help but feel like something’s off.”
Rody swallowed hard, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “What do you mean?”
Manon sighed, reaching out to take his hand in hers. “You’re not the same. You come home late, you’re distracted… distant. I’ve been worried, Rody. About us.”
Her words cut through him like a knife. He knew she was right-he had been distant, distracted, but not for the reasons she thought. The guilt gnawed at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to confess. How could he explain that he was cheating on her with his boss, that the man he’d once admired from a distance had become the center of his world in a way he hadn’t expected?
“I’m sorry, Manon,” he said softly, squeezing her hand. “I’ve just been stressed. The campaign is really important, and I guess I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself.”
Manon’s eyes searched his, looking for the truth he wasn’t giving her. “Rody… I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t,” Rody promised, though the words felt hollow. “I love you, Manon.”
She smiled faintly, leaning in to kiss him. Rody kissed her back, trying to ignore the way it felt wrong, the way his thoughts immediately drifted back to Vincent-back to the way Vincent made him feel alive in ways he hadn’t felt in years.
Manon pulled away, her fingers gently tracing his jaw. “I love you too. Just… don’t forget about us, okay?”
“I won’t,” Rody said again, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.
—
The days that followed were tense. Rody found himself torn between his obligations to Manon and his desires for Vincent. Every time he tried to pull away from Vincent, to focus on his marriage, he found himself back in Vincent’s office, back in his arms, lost in the way Vincent made him feel.
Vincent noticed the shift too. Rody was more distracted, more hesitant. The passionate nights they shared were still intense, but there was an undercurrent of something darker-guilt, fear, uncertainty.
One evening, after a particularly heated encounter in Vincent’s office, Rody lay on the couch, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. Vincent sat beside him, his fingers idly tracing patterns on Rody’s skin.
“You’re thinking about her,” Vincent said quietly, not a question, but a statement.
Rody tensed, his eyes squeezing shut. “Vincent, I… I don’t know what to do.”
Vincent’s hand stilled, his gaze fixed on Rody. “You don’t have to choose, you know.”
Rody opened his eyes, looking at Vincent with a mix of confusion and frustration. “How can you say that? Of course, I have to choose. I can’t keep doing this-lying to her, lying to myself.”
Vincent’s expression remained calm, though there was a hint of something dangerous in his eyes. “You don’t love her, Rody. Not the way you love me.”
Rody’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to deny it, to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, he knew Vincent was right. The passion he felt with Vincent, the connection-it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced with Manon. But that didn’t make the situation any less complicated.
“I do love her,” Rody said finally, though his voice lacked conviction. “She’s my wife.”
Vincent’s gaze hardened, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against Rody’s ear. “But I’m the one you need,” he whispered, his voice sending a shiver down Rody’s spine. “I’m the one who makes you feel alive. You can’t walk away from that, Rody. You know you can’t.”
Rody’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind a chaotic mess of emotions. He knew he couldn’t keep this up, knew that something had to give. But as he looked into Vincent’s dark eyes, he felt himself sinking deeper into the abyss, unable to pull away.
“I don’t know what to do,” Rody confessed, his voice trembling.
Vincent cupped Rody’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Stay with me, Rody. Don’t go back to her. Let me be the one you come home to.”
The intensity in Vincent’s voice, the desperation, cut through Rody’s defenses. He wanted to stay, wanted to give in to the pull he felt toward Vincent. But the thought of leaving Manon, of breaking her heart-it was too much to bear.
“I can’t,” Rody whispered, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
Vincent’s grip tightened, his expression darkening with anger and frustration. “You can, Rody. You just have to choose me.”
Rody closed his eyes, torn between his love for Manon and his overwhelming desire for Vincent. He knew that no matter what choice he made, someone would get hurt. But as he sat there, feeling Vincent’s hands on his face, hearing the raw need in his voice, he realized that the person who would suffer the most was himself.
Because no matter what he did, no matter who he chose, he would lose a part of himself. And that was a price he wasn’t sure he was willing to pay.
Rody sat in his car outside the apartment he shared with Manon, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were white. He couldn’t remember how long he had been sitting there, staring blankly at the dashboard, trying to summon the courage to go inside. The weight of his choices pressed down on him, suffocating.
Manon had texted him earlier in the day, asking if they could talk when he got home. The message was simple, but it filled Rody with dread. She must have sensed something was wrong, that the distance between them was growing wider with each passing day. He knew she deserved the truth, but he couldn’t bear to see the hurt in her eyes when he told her.
But he also couldn’t bear to lie to her any longer.
With a deep breath, Rody finally forced himself to get out of the car and make his way to the front door. As he entered the apartment, he was greeted by the smell of dinner cooking-Manon’s way of trying to create some semblance of normalcy between them. It only made Rody feel worse.
He found Manon in the kitchen, stirring a pot of sauce on the stove. She turned when she heard him enter, offering him a small, tentative smile.
“Hey,” she greeted him softly, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I made your favorite tonight.”
Rody’s heart twisted painfully at the sight of her trying so hard, putting on a brave face even though he could see the worry in her eyes. “Thanks,” he mumbled, unsure of what else to say.
Manon hesitated, studying him carefully. “Rody… we need to talk.”
“I know,” he replied, his voice heavy with resignation.
She gestured toward the dining table, and they both sat down. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Manon fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, clearly struggling to find the right words.
“Rody, I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “About us. About our marriage.”
Rody swallowed hard, bracing himself for what was coming. He nodded for her to continue.
“I love you, Rody. I’ve always loved you,” she said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But I can’t help but feel like… I’m losing you. Like there’s something-someone-else.”
Rody felt like the ground was falling out from under him. He knew this moment was inevitable, but that didn’t make it any easier. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat.
“Please,” Manon whispered, reaching out to grasp his hand. “Tell me the truth. If there’s someone else… I need to know.”
Rody’s heart pounded in his chest, the guilt and shame overwhelming him. He wanted to tell her, wanted to apologize for everything he’d done, for the lies and the betrayal. But as he looked into her pleading eyes, he found himself unable to speak.
Instead, he stood up abruptly, pulling his hand from hers. “I-I need some air,” he stammered, backing away from the table.
Manon’s face crumpled in despair, but she didn’t try to stop him. “Rody…”
But he was already halfway out the door, fleeing from the confrontation he couldn’t face. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to get away, to clear his head.
Without thinking, Rody found himself driving through the city streets, the familiar route taking him to Vincent’s building. He parked and sat in the car for a few moments, trying to calm his racing heart.
Why was he here? What was he hoping to find?
He didn’t have an answer, but before he could overthink it, he was already heading into the building, taking the elevator up to Vincent’s floor.
When the elevator doors opened, Vincent was standing there as if he’d been waiting for him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a quiet intensity that made Rody’s breath catch in his throat.
“I had a feeling you’d come,” Vincent said softly, stepping aside to let Rody in.
Rody didn’t respond, too overwhelmed to speak. He walked past Vincent and into the apartment, feeling the weight of his decision pressing down on him. This was it-he was at the point of no return.
Vincent closed the door and approached him cautiously, sensing the turmoil within him. “Rody, what happened?”
Rody turned to face him, his emotions raw and exposed. “I couldn’t tell her,” he confessed, his voice shaking. “I couldn’t do it.”
Vincent’s expression softened with understanding. He reached out, gently cupping Rody’s face in his hands. “You don’t have to,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against Rody’s cheek. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
Rody closed his eyes, leaning into Vincent’s touch, desperate for the comfort he offered. But even as Vincent’s hands soothed him, the guilt gnawed at his insides like a relentless parasite.
“I don’t know what to do,” Rody admitted, his voice breaking. “I love you, Vincent. But I can’t keep doing this to her. She doesn’t deserve it.”
Vincent’s jaw clenched, and a shadow passed over his face. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against Rody’s ear. “Then leave her. Be with me, Rody. You know it’s what you really want.”
Rody’s breath hitched at the intensity of Vincent’s words. The part of him that craved Vincent, that needed him, was screaming at him to give in, to finally make the choice that would set them both free.
But another part of him, the part that still loved Manon and the life they had built together, resisted. It wasn’t just about what he wanted. It was about what was right.
“I can’t,” Rody whispered, pulling away from Vincent’s embrace. “I can’t just leave her like that.”
Vincent’s eyes darkened, and his voice took on a hard edge. “You’re not happy with her, Rody. You’ve been lying to yourself for too long. You belong with me.”
Rody shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m so confused, Vincent. I don’t know what to do.”
Vincent’s expression softened again, and he reached out to take Rody’s hands in his. “Listen to your heart,” he urged gently. “What does it tell you?”
Rody’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but as he looked into Vincent’s eyes, he knew the truth. He couldn’t deny what he felt for Vincent, the way he was drawn to him, the way he needed him. But he also couldn’t ignore the love he still had for Manon, even if it was different from what he felt for Vincent.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” Rody whispered, his voice trembling.
Vincent’s grip on his hands tightened, his eyes boring into Rody’s. “You’re hurting yourself more by staying in a life that doesn’t make you happy,” he said firmly. “You deserve to be with someone who understands you, who fulfills you. And you know that’s me.”
Rody’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of Vincent’s words sinking in. He knew Vincent was right, but the fear of taking that final step, of tearing apart his life with Manon, paralyzed him.
“Rody,” Vincent whispered, his voice pleading now. “I need you. Don’t leave me.”
Rody’s resolve crumbled at the vulnerability in Vincent’s voice. The walls he had built around his heart began to crack, and he felt himself slipping further into Vincent’s orbit, unable to resist the pull.
In that moment, Rody made a choice-not a definitive one, but a choice nonetheless. He pulled Vincent into his arms, holding him tightly as if trying to merge their fractured souls together.
But deep down, Rody knew that no matter how hard he tried to keep both worlds from colliding, the inevitable confrontation would come, and when it did, the fallout would be devastating.
For now, though, he allowed himself to get lost in Vincent’s embrace, clinging to the fleeting comfort of their love, even as the storm clouds gathered on the horizon.
The days that followed were a haze of guilt, secrecy, and stolen moments. Rody found himself torn between two worlds, each pulling him in opposite directions. When he was with Manon, he was plagued by the weight of his lies and the guilt of betraying her. But when he was with Vincent, he felt a dangerous sense of relief, as if he was finally where he belonged.
Vincent, ever perceptive, noticed the toll it was taking on Rody. Despite his own desires, he began to push Rody, urging him to make a decision-one that would end the limbo they were both trapped in.
“Rody,” Vincent said one evening after they had made love in his office, the usual intensity of their encounters now tinged with a quiet desperation. “You can’t keep living like this. It’s not fair to you, or to her.”
Rody lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the truth of Vincent’s words like a dagger to the heart. “I know,” he whispered. “But I don’t know how to end it.”
Vincent turned to him, his eyes searching Rody’s face for any sign of resolve. “You do know,” he insisted gently. “You just have to be brave enough to do it.”
But Rody wasn’t brave. He had never been brave. That was the problem.
The breaking point came on a cold, rainy evening when Rody returned home to find Manon waiting for him in the living room. She was sitting on the edge of the couch, her posture tense, her eyes red and swollen as if she had been crying.
“Rody,” she began, her voice trembling. “We need to talk.”
Rody’s heart sank. He knew what was coming, knew that this was the moment he had been dreading. He could no longer avoid the truth.
He sat down across from her, unable to meet her gaze. “Manon, I-“
“I know,” she interrupted, her voice raw with emotion. “I know about you and Vincent.”
Rody froze, his blood running cold. “What?”
Manon swallowed hard, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I saw you,” she confessed, her voice breaking. “I followed you one night… I saw you go to his place.”
Rody’s mind raced, a thousand thoughts crashing into each other as he tried to process her words. The horror of being caught, the shame of being discovered-it all came crashing down on him.
“Manon, I-” He struggled to find the words, but nothing he could say would make this right.
“How long has this been going on?” she demanded, her voice rising with anger now. “How long have you been lying to me?”
Rody’s heart shattered at the pain in her voice. He had never wanted to hurt her, but he had, and there was no undoing it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “I never meant for it to happen.”
“Is that supposed to make it better?” she cried, her hands trembling as she wiped away her tears. “I trusted you, Rody! I thought we were in this together!”
Rody felt like he was being torn apart, the weight of his betrayal crushing him. “I love you, Manon,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I… I love him too.”
Manon’s face crumpled with despair, and she shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. “How could you do this to us? To me?”
“I don’t know,” Rody admitted, tears streaming down his own face now. “I never wanted to hurt you. But I couldn’t stop myself.”
Manon’s shoulders shook with silent sobs, and Rody felt like the worst kind of monster. He had destroyed the one thing that had meant the most to him-their marriage-and for what? For a passion he couldn’t control, for a love that consumed him.
“I can’t stay here,” Manon whispered, her voice broken. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t love me the way I love him.”
Rody’s chest ached with the realization that this was it. The end. He had made his choice, and now he had to live with the consequences.
“I understand,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Manon. I’m so sorry for everything.”
Manon stood up, her movements shaky as she grabbed her coat and purse. She paused at the door, turning to look at him one last time. “I hope he’s worth it,” she said, her voice hollow.
And then she was gone, leaving Rody alone in the empty apartment, the silence deafening in her absence.
Rody didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at the door, waiting for the reality of what had just happened to sink in. The guilt was like a living thing, gnawing at him from the inside out. He had lost Manon, and he had only himself to blame.
When he finally pulled himself together, he knew where he had to go. He needed to see Vincent, to tell him what had happened, to try and make sense of the mess he had created.
The drive to Vincent’s apartment was a blur, and when he arrived, he didn’t even knock-he just let himself in, his heart pounding in his chest.
Vincent was in the living room, sitting on the couch with a glass of whiskey in hand. He looked up when Rody entered, his expression unreadable.
“She’s gone,” Rody said, his voice rough with the weight of what had just happened.
Vincent set down his glass and stood, crossing the room to stand in front of Rody. “What did you tell her?”
“I didn’t have to tell her anything,” Rody replied bitterly. “She already knew.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened, and he reached out, pulling Rody into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice laced with guilt.
Rody held onto him like a lifeline, burying his face in Vincent’s shoulder. “I hurt her so much, Vincent. I didn’t want this.”
“I know,” Vincent murmured, stroking Rody’s hair. “But you can’t change what’s done.”
Rody pulled back slightly, looking up at Vincent with tear-filled eyes. “I just… I don’t know what to do now.”
Vincent cupped Rody’s face in his hands, his expression softening. “You stay with me,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”
Rody’s heart ached with the conflicting emotions swirling inside him. Part of him wanted to push Vincent away, to punish himself for what he had done. But the other part, the part that had been drawn to Vincent from the start, needed him more than ever.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’ll stay.”
Vincent leaned down, capturing Rody’s lips in a tender, reassuring kiss. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, his voice firm and resolute. “Together.”
But even as Rody returned the kiss, a part of him wondered if he would ever be able to forgive himself for the choices he had made, and the lives he had shattered in the process.
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