“Playing with Fire”
“Blimey,” Tom threw his head back, nearly choking on his laughter. “You actually said that to her face? In front of everyone?”
“What else was I supposed to do?” Mark drummed his fingers on the table, tense. “Im married. She wouldnt back offcompletely lost the plot. The whole departments been side-eyeing us for weeks.”
“Mate, youre too soft for this game,” Tom teased. “Other blokes wouldve jumped at the chance, but youre acting like some blushing schoolboy.”
“Weve got different ideas about loyalty,” Mark shot back, though exhaustion flickered in his eyes. “At first, it was just hintsI ignored it, didnt want to be rude. But she took silence as encouragement.”
“Thats your mistake right there,” Tom said, raising a knowing eyebrow. “You let her think there was a chance.”
“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 said, leaning back. “Proof youre worth the chase.”
Sophie burst into their office like a sudden gust of wind. She wasnt classically beautifulsharp features, a low, smoky voicebut when she smiled, the room shifted. The HR manager later admitted shed been ready to reject her, but that smile changed everything.
At first, Mark liked her. Her energy and quick wit were a breath of fresh air in the dull office routine. He helped her settle in, shared tipsjust friendly, no ulterior motives. To him, a loyal family man, she was a bright colleague, almost a little sister.
Then the lines blurred. Her jokes turned flirty, her touches lingering. Mark, an introvert who hated confrontation, froze. His usual moral compass spun wildly. He started avoiding her, skipping shared lunches. But retreat only fueled her.
***
Mark was in his mid-thirties, the kind of man who kept his life meticulously ordered. Tall but slightly stooped, as if trying to shrink. Dark hair, neatly trimmed, with early silver at the templesheredity plus stress. Calm eyes, but with a quiet exhaustion beneath. He wore thin-framed glasses, which hed nervously remove and rub when tense. His clothes were simple: muted shirts, tailored trousers. No flash.
He hated crowds, office gossip, flirtationall of it drained him. Silence, order, focus were his comfort zone. Conflict terrified him; hed rather swallow his words than argue.
Yet beneath that, an unshakable core: his family. Emma and the kids werent just his lifethey were his *why*. His loyalty wasnt performative; it was as natural as breathing.
Sophie fixated on him day one. He was the only one immune to her charms. Seducing him wasnt just about attentionit was about proving her worth. If a “perfect” family man fell for her, shed won. And her past told her every “devoted husband” was hiding something.
Two weeks in, Sophie gushed to her friend Lily about Mark. Lily listened, uneasy.
“Another married one? Sophie, stop. Hes got two kids.”
“Details!” Sophie waved her off. “Hes miserable, I can tell. Trapped in some golden cage. His wifeEmmashe doesnt *get* him. Shes just a comfort blanket. His souls screaming for more!”
“How dyou know? Have you even met her?”
“I dont need to! Look at himso buttoned-up, so *proper*. Thats not normal. Theres pain there. Im going to help him see it.”
“Christ, you sound like a bad rom-com,” Lily 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, eyes gleaming. “Were meant to be. And that perfect family? Guaranteed its a sham. Ill prove it.”
***
The business trip to Manchester was Marks nightmare. Guess who volunteered to join? In meetings, Sophie was professional. Almost made him relax. Then came the knock at his hotel door.
“My rooms freezing,” Sophie said, wrapped in a robe that barely hid the silk beneath.
Marks stomach dropped. Panic, thick and sour, clawed up his throat. He pictured Emmas steady, trusting gaze.
“Wait here,” he muttered, turning to grab a spare blanket. “Take this.”
Sophie pouted but took it. “Youve locked yourself in a cage and thrown away the key,” she said, leaving. “Pity. Theres a different man underneathI *know* it.”
Mark leaned his forehead against the door, pulse roaring. Relief mixed with a strange, hollow pityfor her, for himself, for the whole mess.
Back at work, Sophie seemed to forget him. Mark finally breathed. Then she asked for a lift home. He refused.
“Do I disgust you?”
“Youre brilliant,” he said carefully. “But I love my wife. Ive got a family”
“So thats it?” Her eyes sparkled, dangerous. “Just *her*?”
“No” He fumbled for words, but she was gone. Instantly, he regretted his hesitation.
That night, a sharp shove woke him. Emmas furious whisper cut through the haze.
“Mark, have you lost your *mind*? Who sends pictures like this at midnight?”
He sat bolt upright. On his phone: Sophie, posed in lace, smirking.
“Em, its not what you think!” Voice cracking, he spilled everythinghis awkwardness, his silence.
Emma exhaled hard. “You daft sod,” she muttered, equal parts anger and fondness. “Fine. I believe you. But if she pulls this again, Im marching into that office and giving everyone a show they wont forget.”
Mark nodded into the dark. Next day, he called Sophie into a meeting room. She strode in, triumphant.
“Sophie, you crossed a line,” he said, forcing steadiness.
“Oh, relax,” she purred, reaching for his face. “Shes not right for you. Trust me.”
He recoiled. Her hand hung mid-air.
“Whatre you implying?”
“That your perfect lifes a lie,” she hissed, saccharine-sweet. “From the outside? Dream family. But your sonhes not even *yours*.”
Mark went cold. Staring at her gloating face, the last shreds of sympathy vanished.
“I can prove it.” She slapped a paper on the table. “Paternity: 0%. Handy having connections, eh? Believe me now?”
Mark looked up, fury crystallising into icy clarity.
“I tolerated you chasing me. But my *kids*? James isnt mine by blood. Thats mine and Emmas business. His parentsEmmas sister and her husbanddied. Hes *ours* now. Happy? Satisfied?”
Sophie paled. “I didnt know”
“Dont care how you got this,” he said, voice deathly quiet. “Resign by tonight, or I go to the police. And if you *ever* go near my kids again?” He paused. “Youll wish it was just the police.”
Sophie quit that day. Mark came home early, hugging James and Mia tighter than usual, breathing in their shampoo-scented hair.
That night, he sat across from Emma.
“We tell him,” Mark said softly. “He deserves the truth from usnot some stranger.”
Emmas eyes brimmednot with grief, but relief. “Im scared.”
“Me too. But well do it together.”
A week later, after cake, Mark knelt before James.
“Remember how we say familys what matters? Well yours is extra special. Im not your birth dadAunt Sarah and Uncle Rob were. Theyre not here anymore, but Mummy and I chose you. *Love* made you ours.”
James thought, then hugged them. “Can I have more cake?”
The storm passed. In the crumbs and quiet talk, there was no room for Sophie or her games. Everything settledexactly where it belonged.
