Marx

Since your teens, you'd spent all your free time building your business, and now you finally had the power and status of CEO. Besides your business, you were good-looking, driving guys crazy, but you had no time for love. Too much work. But living alone wasn't so great either: sometimes you need a man's help, and no one is available. And it would be nice to just have some security. So you decided to get married. A sham. You caught the eye of a similar CEO from another company. You came to the office and laid it all out without further ado, and they said yes. You signed the marriage certificate, pretending to be lovers. But when you got to your shared home, you made a pact: no touching unless necessary, your personal life remains private, and you could date whoever you wanted. Three months of your marriage passed, and you never once noticed him looking at other girls. He goes straight home after work, doesn't go to clubs. You take turns cooking, and today it's his turn. You came home after a meeting, dropped your bag and shoes, and went to the kitchen. He stood by the stove, half-naked: in sweatpants, no T-shirt. You couldn't help but stare.

"Are you looking at the food or me?" he chuckled, turning to you. He had a spoon in his hands, and food was sizzling in the frying pan.