My Sales Champion Wife's Secrets - Chapter 10: Chapter 10
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I forced a smile and shrugged him off. The moment we stepped inside, I knew—this wasn't just any night.
The entire Vienna Grand Hotel had been reserved for something exclusive. No outsiders allowed—only members like Damian Roscente could flash their passes and slip past security.
The first floor buzzed with Lillian Laurent's real estate event, but she was nowhere in sight. Probably off managing some high-profile deal.
I wanted to linger, but Damian yanked me toward the elevator. "Why waste time down here? We came to play, not shop for condos."
Then we hit the third floor.
The grand hall had been transformed—yoga mats, plush couches, and oversized beds scattered throughout. Silver trays of delicate pastries and rich red wine floated by, carried by bunny girls in barely-there bikinis.
But the real shock? The crowd.
Women draped in sheer lingerie—some in nothing but lace thongs—lounged on the furniture, laughing, sipping wine, their bodies on full display. Couples were already tangled in the sheets, lost in each other, the air thick with musk and indulgence.
No one batted an eye. No whispers, no judgment.
Just masks—hiding every face, every identity.
"Come on, strip!"
Damian, practically vibrating with excitement, dragged me into the changing area. The second we were naked, he slapped a blue pill into my palm.
"What's this?" I already knew.
He smirked. "Imported. A grand a pop. Keeps you going all night."
"I don't need it."
"Trust me, you do."
Before I could argue, he shoved it into my mouth.
Bitter. Then—fire.
Heat surged through me, sharp and urgent, my control unraveling in seconds.
"Damn, that's fast!" Damian barked a laugh, scrambling for his mask. "Don't look at me like that—plenty of women out there. Go."
He shoved me back into the hall, already disappearing into the arms of a curvy brunette on a yoga mat.
I burned, restless, but hesitated—until she appeared.
A woman in an empress mask strode toward me, all confidence. Without a word, she pushed me onto a sofa, straddling me, her hands sliding over her own body as she rocked against me.
This direct?
My mind protested, but my hands betrayed me, gripping her waist, pulling her closer—
Then that voice cut through the haze.
"Remember our deal, sir. You'll buy a property after this."
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Keep me happy, and I'll buy the whole damn building."
A heavyset man grunted, pounding into a woman on the couch beside us.
But that voice—
Ice flooded my veins.
It sounded exactly like Lillian.
I couldn't be sure—she wore a bunny mask.
But the body—the full curves, narrow waist, that perfect peach ass, long legs, delicate feet—
A perfect match.
She knelt on the sofa, right above me.
Rage snapped inside me.
I reached up—and ripped off her mask.
And froze.
There, beneath that sweating stranger—
Was my wife.
Lillian Laurent.
The entire Vienna Grand Hotel had been reserved for something exclusive. No outsiders allowed—only members like Damian Roscente could flash their passes and slip past security.
The first floor buzzed with Lillian Laurent's real estate event, but she was nowhere in sight. Probably off managing some high-profile deal.
I wanted to linger, but Damian yanked me toward the elevator. "Why waste time down here? We came to play, not shop for condos."
Then we hit the third floor.
The grand hall had been transformed—yoga mats, plush couches, and oversized beds scattered throughout. Silver trays of delicate pastries and rich red wine floated by, carried by bunny girls in barely-there bikinis.
But the real shock? The crowd.
Women draped in sheer lingerie—some in nothing but lace thongs—lounged on the furniture, laughing, sipping wine, their bodies on full display. Couples were already tangled in the sheets, lost in each other, the air thick with musk and indulgence.
No one batted an eye. No whispers, no judgment.
Just masks—hiding every face, every identity.
"Come on, strip!"
Damian, practically vibrating with excitement, dragged me into the changing area. The second we were naked, he slapped a blue pill into my palm.
"What's this?" I already knew.
He smirked. "Imported. A grand a pop. Keeps you going all night."
"I don't need it."
"Trust me, you do."
Before I could argue, he shoved it into my mouth.
Bitter. Then—fire.
Heat surged through me, sharp and urgent, my control unraveling in seconds.
"Damn, that's fast!" Damian barked a laugh, scrambling for his mask. "Don't look at me like that—plenty of women out there. Go."
He shoved me back into the hall, already disappearing into the arms of a curvy brunette on a yoga mat.
I burned, restless, but hesitated—until she appeared.
A woman in an empress mask strode toward me, all confidence. Without a word, she pushed me onto a sofa, straddling me, her hands sliding over her own body as she rocked against me.
This direct?
My mind protested, but my hands betrayed me, gripping her waist, pulling her closer—
Then that voice cut through the haze.
"Remember our deal, sir. You'll buy a property after this."
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Keep me happy, and I'll buy the whole damn building."
A heavyset man grunted, pounding into a woman on the couch beside us.
But that voice—
Ice flooded my veins.
It sounded exactly like Lillian.
I couldn't be sure—she wore a bunny mask.
But the body—the full curves, narrow waist, that perfect peach ass, long legs, delicate feet—
A perfect match.
She knelt on the sofa, right above me.
Rage snapped inside me.
I reached up—and ripped off her mask.
And froze.
There, beneath that sweating stranger—
Was my wife.
Lillian Laurent.
End of My Sales Champion Wife's Secrets Chapter 10. Continue reading Chapter 11 or return to My Sales Champion Wife's Secrets book page.