Secret Marriage: The CEO's Pampered Wife

Elliot Sheridan was no monk, and holding Georgia Thorne’s soft body in his arms, it was impossible not to feel something.

He would even whisper innocently into Georgia’s sensitive ear about how he couldn’t take it anymore, making her want to jump right off of him.

However, one of his arms was locked tightly around her waist. Forget getting up; it was impossible to even move.

Blushing furiously, she felt his discomfort.

In the darkness, his voice, laced with desire, was deep and incredibly magnetic—almost lethally so.

He gently whispered, word by word, into Georgia’s ear just how much he was suffering. Every word hammered against her chest, making her heart race.

This went on until the noises from the next room finally stopped.

Tormented by Elliot’s voice, Georgia grew drowsy. Unable to fight off sleep, she slumped on top of him and drifted off.

Just before she lost consciousness, she vaguely wondered what sin she must have committed to deserve this.

’If I’d known this would happen, I would have just let him sleep at my place. Then this awkward situation could have been avoided.’

Elliot had no intention of actually doing anything to Georgia. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but the room was too filthy, and he was afraid of sullying her.

However, when Georgia woke up the next day, she found herself naked, pressed against Elliot.

She didn’t need to think to guess what Elliot had done to her after she fell asleep last night.

This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

He didn’t seem to feel any pain. Instead, he said provocatively, "Bite harder. A little lower. Take it in..."

Flushing bright red, she let go. "Pah! In your dreams!"

Georgia cried out, "Elliot Sheridan, what are you doing!"

"You were on top of me all night, so I’ll just be on top of you for an hour. How about that?"

"Pervert!"

"Yeah, call me whatever you want. I’ll take it."

"Pervert, pervert, pervert! Get off me!"

Georgia pushed and shoved the man on top of her with both her hands and feet. She was already breaking a sweat but still couldn’t budge him an inch.

’He usually looked so slim. How is he this heavy?’

Eventually, Georgia ran out of energy and couldn’t push anymore, so she just let him lie there.

Fortunately, Elliot didn’t try anything funny and just lay on top of her obediently.

At seven o’clock, the two of them tidied up and checked out of the room.

For some reason, the look the front desk receptionist was giving them was a bit off.

As Georgia collected the security deposit and walked outside, she overheard the receptionist discussing them with her coworkers.

"Did you see that woman who just checked out? She spent the night with a gigolo!"

"A gigolo? Was he handsome?"

"Look, that handsome guy at the door, see him?" the receptionist said, sounding regretful. "That guy has a real presence. It’s just such a shame!"

When Georgia heard this, she nearly coughed up blood.

’So those women think we actually did *it* last night.’

Elliot was standing at the entrance and saw Georgia storm out, not even sparing him a glance as she strode away.

Elliot called out to her, but she didn’t turn her head.

He caught up to her in a few long strides. "What’s wrong?"

"None of your business!" ’Stupid gigolo!’

Georgia cursed in anger. ’Am I not good enough for Elliot Sheridan? What did they mean, "it’s such a shame"?’

Elliot looked completely baffled. She had been fine just a moment ago.

Elliot shamelessly followed Georgia back to her apartment. Georgia grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom to change.

After their rough night at the motel, their clothes were a mess.

Elliot glanced down at himself and walked to the bathroom door. "Georgia, what should I wear?"

Georgia was getting dressed. Seeing the figure at the door, she grew even more furious. "Don’t wear anything! Just go naked!"

She was like a lit firecracker. Elliot raised his eyebrows. ’Going naked, huh? Sounds good to me!’

Georgia also took a quick shower. When she came out, she saw Owen Sawyer standing at the door, holding a fresh suit.

"Good morning, Mrs. Sheridan!" Owen Sawyer immediately greeted her with a beaming smile.

Georgia gave the pair of them a cold snort, grabbed her bag from the sofa, and headed out.

Georgia went to the office early. As soon as she sat down, she slumped onto her desk.

She had arrived so early that there were barely any people on the bus.

Around nine o’clock, people began to trickle in for work.

Georgia turned on her computer. Kai, who was next to her, greeted her, "Morning!"

"Morning!"

Kai saw her yawn. "Didn’t sleep well last night?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted asking. It was obvious.

Georgia just hummed in response. "Where did you put the things we bought yesterday?"

"In the studio."

"Let’s go over together later, then."

"Okay!"

Speaking of making clothes, she remembered the model situation and turned to ask Wendy Young, "By the way, what’s the status with the models? Have they all been contacted?"

Wendy Young gave her an OK sign. "The person’s already scheduled. They said they’d be here at ten."

The studio was right next door. The materials they bought yesterday were on the floor.

She glanced down at her watch. It was already past ten. Why wasn’t the model here yet?

"Wendy, are you sure you scheduled them for ten?"

"Yeah!"

"Can you call and check up on them? Maybe they’re stuck in traffic."

"Okay."

Wendy Young made the call, but it rang for a long time before anyone picked up.

"Assistant Griffin, have you arrived yet? ...What? The car broke down on the way? You just came from the airport? We have to wait another hour? I see. Please get here as quickly as you can!"

After hanging up, she spread her hands at Georgia in a gesture of helplessness. "Nothing we can do. She’s a big star, probably looks down on us!"

Georgia was frustrated. "Who is it?"

"Iris Warner! You know, the celebrity who framed you for stealing her things before!"

"How could it be her?"

"I don’t know!" Wendy Young shook her head. "But don’t you two have a history? Is she going to come looking for trouble?"

’It’s very likely!’

’Iris Warner is so famous. Why would she have time to be my model?’

While everyone else was taking measurements for their models, Iris Warner still hadn’t arrived.

It was already half an hour past the hour she said she’d be delayed. Wendy was getting anxious and called to urge her again and again.

Finally, at eleven o’clock, Iris Warner arrived fashionably late with her assistant.

"Sorry, the car broke down on the way. You don’t mind, do you, Miss Thorne?"

"Of course not!" Georgia forced a smile. "Miss Warner, please come over here."

With a measuring tape in hand, Georgia wanted to hurry and get Iris Warner’s measurements done.

Iris Warner sighed. "It’s already noon, and I haven’t even had a sip of water. Miss Thorne, if you don’t mind, let’s do the measurements this afternoon!"

"...Okay!"

’I really don’t know why my model had to be Iris Warner.’

Iris Warner had high standards and was unwilling to eat in the crowded employee cafeteria with the Sheridan Group staff.

She treated Georgia like the assistant she used to order around, telling her to go get takeout.

The order was even from the Grandview Hotel. Iris Warner looked pleased. "Thank you, Miss Thorne. You’re as thoughtful as ever!"

Iris Warner was notoriously picky. She wouldn’t eat this or that, and she would fly into a rage over the smallest things.

During the few days Georgia had been her assistant, she had been yelled at several times.

"Please enjoy your meal, Miss Warner." Georgia smiled, then walked out.

In the employee cafeteria, Georgia was lining up for food with Wendy standing behind her. "That Iris Warner is really putting on airs. If she knew you were Mrs. Sheridan, I wonder if she’d be sucking up to you instead!"

Just imagining the look on her face made the scene seem amusing.

By now, everyone in the Sheridan Group knew Georgia’s status. Even the cleaning ladies called her "the boss’s wife."

Georgia pressed her forehead in exasperation. Wendy continued to gossip excitedly, "You and Kai didn’t come back together yesterday. I heard you went home with the President. Is that true?"

"Georgia, how did you and the President get together? What do you two usually do when you go home?" Wendy rambled on, giving Georgia a headache.

Georgia had just gotten her food and sat down when a call from Tina Griffin summoned her back to the studio.

"You’re not eating?"

"No, I’ve gotta go!" Georgia hurried off.

Tina Griffin had been very clear on the phone: Iris Warner had a banquet to attend and had to leave in half an hour. If Georgia wanted to get the measurements, she had to do it now.

She was already behind everyone else; how could she not rush?

Georgia rushed back up to find Iris Warner sitting on the sofa, talking on the phone in a soft, delicate voice that made Georgia’s stomach turn.

Iris Warner saw her enter and, whether intentionally or not, deliberately cooed "President Irving" into the phone, followed by a tinkling, bell-like laugh.

Georgia raised an eyebrow and picked up the measuring tape. "Miss Warner, could you please stand up?"

Perhaps because the person on the other end of the line was Erin Irving, Iris Warner’s demeanor was exceptionally gentle. "President Irving, I have to get to work now. I’ll see you later!"

Georgia used the measuring tape on Iris Warner, jotting down the measurements in a notebook as she went.

She inwardly frowned. ’Iris Warner really doesn’t need to see me as a love rival.’

’Only a blind person could fall for Erin Irving.’

After finishing the measurements, Georgia offered a compliment, "Miss Warner, you have a wonderful figure!"

Although Iris Warner couldn’t stand Georgia, who doesn’t like being complimented—especially by their enemy?

She smiled smugly. She had started as a model, after all; her body was her asset. Just as she was about to speak, she saw Georgia scribble something in her notebook and mutter as if to herself, "But the stomach is a little chubby. Looks like I’ll have to let the waist out a bit!"

Iris Warner’s expression instantly soured. ’What does she mean, "a little chubby"?!’

The word "fat" had never appeared in Iris Warner’s vocabulary. She was about to explode with anger when she saw Georgia chewing on the end of her pen and say with a beaming smile, "But Miss Warner probably just had a bit too much for lunch. It’ll probably go down after you’ve digested!"