Chapter 3 - An eye for an eye

"Lukas?" I heard my name being called from far, far away.

"Mmh?" I barely answered. My head lay against my arm, against the wall, I felt so exhausted that I couldn't even bring myself to do anything but remain there and think.

Think of how much of a moronic bastard I've been, of how fucked up my life has become, while merely a few years ago I was in Heaven. Where the hell did I go wrong, exactly?

"You alright?" I felt Valentine's slender hand on my arm before hearing her silvery voice, and I faintly nodded. "You sure?"

"Why are you still here?" I asked. It was way past mine and her shift, she should have been home long ago, the same as I, but well, where do I even go home to tonight? To my children? To start over the billionth fight with my daughter? Especially after the school called today already? Or to my wife? To start the procedures for divorce? I guess I should get myself a lawyer, shouldn't I?

Valentine gave me an impish grin of hers as she slid in front of me, successfully caging herself between me and the wall, in a way that it looked like I was pinning her against the freaking wall.

"I'm always here whenever you need, remember?" She reminded me, biting her lips sensually.

I sighed, closing my eyes. "Are you ever gonna stick into that crazy head of yours that I'm a married man?" Not for long, to be honest, but she doesn't need to know that.

In response, Valentine smirked, her finger coming to trace my chest as she reminded me: "Not so married that night, were you?"

I groaned, pulling back, not needing to be reminded of my nth error. I've fucked up my life big time, and I honestly don't know how to escape this lunacy. "Val, it was a mistake, I told you." I reminded her, going to sit on my desk, exhausted. "Besides, it's not like anything really happened. Just a kiss." I debased, undoing my tie.

I've spent my day working as hard as possible, in order not to think, but in the end, problems still come get me. My life seemed to be such an idyll, I had the most perfect marriage, my children loved me as much as I loved them, I was climbing ranking after ranking in my job. When, exactly, did everything start tumbling down?

"Just a kiss, huh?" Valentine mused, coming to sit on my desk, right beside me. I don't even know why haven't I fired her yet, with all this inappropriate flirting. Maybe I've never really minded, that's why. Also, she's a bit whorish, but very good intern as well.

"I remember it quite differently." She continued, crossing one legs over the other, giving me full sight on her short skirt as it uncovered her most hidden – well, not so hidden, considering I could easily see she wore no underwear – treasures.

I rolled my eyes at her statement. "I was tired, drunk, we were stuck in a stupid hotel far, far away from home." I pointed out. I'm honestly stunned at myself for not giving in that time, despite everything, but I made it.

Valentine smirked, her red lips as luscious as ripe fruits ready to be collected. Damn, this woman is an ongoing temptation. Why the hell did I hire her in the first place? I guess I thought I didn't care about beauty, I loved my wife and all that crap, and yet ...

She dropped off the desk, and moved my chair, without ever losing that smirk.

"Val ..." I warned as she straddled me. "You know, this can be counted as sexual harassment." I pointed out, serious. "I could report you for this."

"Yeah?" Her slender hands traced my chest, already making me feel uncomfortable. It didn't help that my wife and I haven't been doing anything since a few weeks. It's hard to remain loyal when you've got the boy down there craving to be let free.

Valentine started undoing the buttons of my shirt, and I didn't stop her, not sure why. Normally I would easily turn her down, despite everything, but this time ... well, this time I couldn't really find any reason to. I'm going home to an empty bed anyways, what would change if I simply don't go?

Tara and I have started sleeping separately since mid-summer, at first it wasn't even voluntary, I mean, the first time I fell asleep in my study, the second time she came back home in the morning, then it just ... happened, I started sleeping in the study instead of with my wife. I guess those were telltale signs, weren't they?

Valentine leisurely started nibbling on my neck, her hands working to get rid of my shirt, and I could already feel the boy down there awakening. I've never let her get to this point, usually it's just harmless flirting, but tonight ... tonight I honestly didn't really give a shit about holding back.2

Hence, I caused her to squeal as I stood with her still on my lap, only to then lay her on the desk, uncaring about the papers and such. I didn't even consider being gentle, and she didn't mind, because when I went straight for her short skirt, slipping it off, she merely let out an excited moan. Normally I would resist, I would remind her and myself that I'm a married man with three children, but ... well, who cares at this point. We're getting divorced, so to hell with loyalty.

***

TARA'S POV

Sighing, I closed the door behind me. Another exhausting day was gone, finally. I just needed to find the strength to grab my things, get to my car, and go home. Easier said than done. Being an EP isn't as easy as one would think, you gotta be always at your best, because people depend on you, not just your subordinates, but also the viewers, they expect the great broadcasting they're used to, you cannot risk making even one single mistake. Funny how my job is going so well, yet my private life is falling apart.

"Knock, knock." I heard a familiar voice say, followed by the soft sound of knuckles against a door. I cracked a small smile, already knowing who it was. "Great show tonight, thanks." Jeremy complimented, flopping down onto the chair in front of my desk, and I rolled my eyes, amused.

"You're the star, so thank you, not me."

"Oh, please, without you this whole newsroom would be lost, Tara. I keep thanking God for setting you onto this path."

I chuckled, unable to retain myself. "You're an atheist, Jeremy."

He waved his hand in dismissal, and I laughed with him. Well, at least somebody still makes me laugh, I'd almost forgotten how it feels like. "Seriously, the ratings have doubled since you came on board." Jeremy pointed out, then reached for his pocket, taking out two small bottles of scotch. "Cheers?"

He wondered, handing me one of the bottles, his charming grin plastered on his face. He's the anchorman, the star of our news channel, we have other anchors, yes, but ratings show that the maximum audience, we get it when it's Jeremy Talbot on air.

No wonder, he's got that sexy yet reassuring aura that surrounds him, people might stop to look because of his handsome face, but they'll stick to the broadcasting because you can't help hanging on every word he says. He's practically hypnotizing.

I've started working with him over three years ago, when I decided I was tired of that prick I was to call boss, in a way I was lucky, because I got this job mostly because Aaron recommended me to his friend that directs the channel.

Before you get too far with your fantasy, no, I'm not seeing my ex behind my husband's back. We just ... chat now and then. He's got a full life, so do I, but we're kinda in the same environment, so sometimes it's impossible not to just bump into each other.

I grabbed the small bottle Jeremy was handing me, not that much reluctantly, and smiled at him. "Cheers."

Jeremy raised his bottle, smiling widely. "To Tara Baker. I don't know what I'd be without you."

I grinned at his cheesiness, but cheered anyways. Jeremy is a strange man, he can switch from sexy TV star to goofy next-door-guy in the blink of an eye. I'll admit I love working with him.

"So, what are your plans tonight?" He asked after we'd both sipped our scotch.

I shrugged. "It's Monday, winter is coming, what should I do?"

"I don't know, go out? Have fun?"

I rolled my eyes. "I'm a 40-years-old married woman with three children to take care of when I don't run one of the most important newsrooms in the country. What fun could I have?"

Jeremy stared at me for a moment, his expression blank. "39." He pointed out.

"What?" I asked, after having taken another sip from the bottle.

He grinned. "You're 39, not 40. Your birthday is in five weeks."

I smiled, actually flattered that he remembered it. "Right. 39 years old mom and wife."

"Not to mention, the best executive producer ever."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Flattering me won't get you anything, Mr. Talbot."

"That's why I'm getting you drunk." He raised his bottle, winking. I grinned, feeling like, for a few minutes, as I talked to my friend, my problems could be forgotten. Jeremy always has this effect on me, he makes me live on an utopian isle were everything is perfect, there are no issues to be solved, only good scotch, interesting talks, and great laughs. Just that.

"Well, it's gonna take you more than a small bottle to get me drunk." I pointed out, and he grinned, chugging down his own alcohol.

"What about you? Any plans?" I asked, furrowing my brows, already feeling alcohol crawl into my system. I wasn't gonna get drunk only with a small bottle, but I did feel tipsy.

Jeremy shrugged, finishing his bottle. "It's Monday, winter is coming, what should I do?" He repeated my words.

I rolled my eyes, finishing my bottle as well. "You're a 43 years old charming news anchorman, single, well known in the city ... quite a lot to do, I think. There are women out there that would kill to have dinner with you."

Jeremy bit his lip, leaning in, his face now serious. "Would you?"

I blinked my eyes, nearly dropping the bottle. "What?"

He cracked a small smile, endearing and sweet, one of my favorites of his, because it's usually directed at me only, to be honest. We've been working together, side by side, since three years, it's normal we've come to such friendship, we're more than just colleagues, but his question still had me fall from the clouds.

Jeremy clasped his hands together over the desk, his sweet smile unfaltering as his deep green eyes locked gazes with my hazels. "Would you have dinner with me, Tara?"

"Jay ..."

"Come on, just a dinner, you and I, we've done that, haven't we?"

"Y-Yes, but ..."

"What difference would it make now?"

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. "You're not asking to share a lousy dinner in a cheap hotel while we wait to go on air, Jeremy, you're asking me to go out on a date with you. That's the difference."

I would have expected him to flinch or retreat his invitation, but no, he just shrugged, leaning in enough for our faces to be close – a safe closeness, of course. "I still don't see the issue."

"Jay ..."

"Come on, it's just a dinner."

"I'm a married woman, Jeremy." Not for long, but he doesn't need to know that, does he?

In response, he reached over for my hands, causing me to flinch as he squeezed them, his green eyes piercing my soul. "I love you, Tara, you know that, don't you?" I gasped, and he kissed my hands. "I've loved you since that endless election night, two years ago. That time I realized, you're the woman for me, Tara Baker. The woman I want to share the rest of my life with."

My throat dried, inevitably, I wasn't even able to retrieve my hands, and I'm not entirely sure I really wanted to, if anything, my face neared his, almost automatically, until I could feel his clean shaven cheek against mine, so warm and ... comforting for some reason.

"I-I'm married." I repeated, not very convinced, as Jeremy's lips neared mine. "Jay ..."

He kissed me. There was no hunger, no anger, no race ... nothing. Just a sweet, tender kiss. Had there been any trace of force, it'd have probably been easier for me to push him off, but, honestly, I felt myself chained to him right this moment. Just like last time.

This wasn't our first kiss, it happened once over two years ago, he was already anchorman, but he wanted to follow that news personally, and I followed him, we got stuck in some flimsy motel because of the awful weather that slowed us down, and ... I don't know how it happened, we just kissed. No more than that, despite what my husband thinks.

This time was different, though. There might have not been hunger, but that doesn't mean the sexual desire wasn't there, it was, but it was hidden behind tenderness, which might be way worse.

An eye for an eye, a far away voice echoed inside me as I unconsciously deepened the kiss, until I couldn't breathe anymore. Then, I broke it, but our faces remained there, close, our noses nuzzling, our lips grazing. I inhaled deeply, eyes closed, and whispered: "Still up for that dinner?"