The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

She never cared for loud rock concerts. Instead, she preferred the opera, symphony performances, and piano recitals—a trait she shared, quite astonishingly, with Hawthorne.

The woman gave an awkward smile. Beyond her understanding of clothes, she knew little else, but she tried to make small talk anyway. She simply couldn't stand the feeling of being completely ignored by Hawthorne.

Before meeting Mrs. Everhart, she used to think a man like Hawthorne would be best matched with a woman like herself: someone with a touch of old-world charm, who could also support his career.

Of course, she'd seen the vice president who worked alongside Hawthorne, but that woman always struck her as far too much of a power player-surely not Hawthorne's type.

Yet after meeting Gwyneth today, she had to admit defeat.

The difference between them was stark: age, education, the way Gwyneth carried herself, her poise, her effortless grace. It all brought to mind those lines-softly blossoming, radiant in her prime, a woman worthy of a happy home.

She fell short by more than a little.

While Hawthorne and Gwyneth chatted quietly together, the woman wisely stepped aside and kept her distance.

After all, when two people are such a perfect match, any third party is simply superfluous.

When they finished picking out clothes, Hawthorne naturally reached for Gwyneth's hand as they walked to the car. She took the passenger seat, and he leaned over to fasten her seatbelt for her.

His familiar scent surrounded her. Gwyneth could see the fine stubble along his jaw and the gentle light falling across his profile.

As Hawthorne straightened up, their chests almost brushing, it seemed they could both hear the other's heartbeat.

He was the first to break the silence. "Are you afraid of me?"

Noticing Gwyneth's nerves, he couldn't help but smile.noveldrama

She certainly hadn't looked like this the first time she'd seen him; her composure had even surprised Hawthorne himself, since no one else ever managed to remain so calm around him.

He was always so serious, exuding an undeniable intensity. For all his handsome features, he was never the approachable type-anyone struck by his good looks would immediately feel the pressure of his presence.

"I'm fine."

Gwyneth turned her face to the window, hoping the fresh air would cool the heat rising in her cheeks.

She wasn't exactly afraid of him. It was just that, whenever she faced him, she couldn't help but think of last night.

Hawthorne's eyes traced the contours of her face: brows like distant hills, lips naturally rosy-altogether, she looked so inviting...

Growing impatient with her averted gaze, he reached out and gently turned her face toward his.

"Gwyn-"

"Hmm?" Gwyneth looked at him, puzzled, expecting him to say something else. Instead, all she got was a quiet, "Never mind," before his lips pressed down on hers.

In that instant, Gwyneth felt her heart nearly leap from her chest. His cologne was intoxicating, drawing her in completely unprepared, just as it had the night before.

If Hawthorne hadn't accidentally bumped the car horn-startling them both and making them break apart she wondered if he might have gone even further right there in the car.

Hawthorne looked distinctly frustrated, though he tried not to show it.

"Come on, let's go grab a table. We can eat and enjoy the show at the same time."

Feigning composure, Gwyneth tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and caught a glimpse of her flushed face in the rearview mirror. Her usually sharp, intelligent eyes now held a haze of confusion and something almost silly.

So it was true what people said-falling in love really does make you act like a fool. She couldn't help but think that, right now, her

expression probably wasn't miel. ne

different from those goofy puppies she sometimes saw on silly internet videos.