Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 782(@200wpm)___ 626(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
“Does this mark the termination of throwing a tantrum?” he asks with veiled amusement.
“Throwing a tantrum?”
“Wasn’t that the case? You were clearly upset about my impromptu trip to the States and naturally couldn’t move on without throwing your own punches.”
He thinks I’m avoiding him because of that? Well, I suppose anything is better than him finding out the actual reason.
During this time, I’ve been obsessing and trying to find myself loopholes. I remember Anni mentioning we were exclusive. So I asked Cecily if that ‘no-other-people’ agreement was really in place.
My bestie just laughed. “Are you kidding? He didn’t allow other people around you for years. You think he would’ve started after he married you? I’ve never seen him with any other woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Only, that was not what worried me.
Though it was a nice confirmation despite my telling Cecily, “As if.”
To which she shook her head and smiled. I’m telling you, she will be so proud of me when I bring this prick down in an epic revenge comeback.
Though I don’t feel like I’m fit for that after what I’ve done.
I cross my arms as if that will hide the hardening of my nipples and choose to ignore his comments. “Sam mentioned you wanted me to get ready for a charity event?”
“Correct.”
“And what makes you believe I’d want to attend?”
“The very simple fact that you’re my wife.”
“And that magically transforms me into a doll you parade around at events?”
“It transforms you into my plus-one. Quit the dramatics.” He goes back to typing away at his laptop, dismissing me entirely.
No, he didn’t.
Plastering a fake smile, I enter his expansive office that reflects its owner’s enigmatic personality. The walls are a deep shade of forest green and dark, worn brown. The leather sofa is large and dull and could use some color and fluffy plushies. The sleek black glass table reflects the light from the window and shares the color of his soul.
I saunter to the bookshelves across from his desk, retrieve a boring book about corporate management, then throw it on the floor.
A few more follow and suffer the same tragic fate before I feel done with my endeavor.
Then I push the coffee table so that it’s not symmetrical, then shove the perfectly placed throw pillows onto the rug.
“What are you doing?” The edge in his voice would scare me if I wasn’t burning in a furnace of pettiness.
“Being dramatic, so when you ask me to quit the dramatics, it’ll be due to something concrete.” I lift a fountain pen cube and then hold it up.
“Don’t.”
I smile sweetly as I let it fall to the ground. It shatters and black ink splatters on the rug, pillows, shelves, and me.
Everywhere.
“Oops,” I say genuinely. I didn’t think it was full of ink.
There go my legs and my fluffy dog slippers. How long does it take to clean ink from the skin?
I fully expect Eli to lunge at me and bite my neck off leopard style. This would be a good time to apologize and say I only meant to tease his OCD tendencies and not yank them out in a barbaric fashion.
“Come here. Now.” He taps the desk twice, his eyes tapering, his voice so eerily calm, it sends a chill through my veins.
“W-why?” I curse myself for the stutter.
“Don’t make me stand up and come get you.”
My legs move of their own accord, a languid feeling settling at the bottom of my stomach.
I stop at the far side of the desk, leaning my back against it for balance more than anything.
His scent seeps into my bones and intoxicates me worse than any alcohol. To avoid looking at him, I pretend to be bored as I study my nails. “So, um, maybe you shouldn’t have kept a full inkpot in your office if you have OCD issues?”
“Shut up, Ava.”
“I’m just offering a useful suggestion.”
“I said.” He stands up threateningly and presses his hands on either side of me on the desk surface, then slowly lowers himself so that his face is level with mine. I cease breathing when his lips skim my ear. “Shut that fucking mouth before I fill it with something that’s guaranteed to keep it occupied.”
My held breath comes out in a strangled pant. His lips burn my skin, but it’s no worse than the volcano that is his words, because why the hell do I feel thirsty all of a sudden?
“You’re easier on the eyes when you behave, Mrs. King.” He still speaks in my ear, as if injecting sweet poison into my veins. “So how about you be a good girl, change into a decent dress, and meet me downstairs?”
His warm lips leave my ear, but he doesn’t budge. His nearness and intimidating presence sear into me like a cigarette against paper. It’s hopeless to deny my desire for his touch when every inch of my body aches for it.