Chapter 9 #2
My time of reprieve was up though. Projects had been shuffled around, and clients and staff were, fortunately, understanding of the sudden change—pity a certain indulgent billionaire couldn't be as accommodating.
Today, I would be swinging by to oversee the installation of a chandelier and meet the dutiful Von again.
Would Acheron be there? I didn't dare ask.
I was determined to remain professional and aloof.
So why did the thought of seeing him again rouse such a gut-twisting response? A mix of nervousness, annoyance, eagerness, and anticipation burned in me.
But what was worse—those same conflicting emotions seared me deeper at the thought of not seeing him today.
David had noticed my moods, and I hated that my scattered feelings were placing a new strain on our marriage.
The swirling emotions I felt whenever my mind drifted to him crept into the perfect bubble I'd created with David.
Christ, it had only been a week, and this giant chasm between us had already formed.
I needed to get back on track. Get us back on track.
This last dream—whatever it had been—was the wake-up call I needed. There was nothing like calling out another man's name in bed to give you some perspective.
After a quick shower, I cautiously strolled into our kitchen. David was standing at the counter with his back to me, sipping his coffee. He was dressed in his gym gear: basketball shorts and a tank. The muscles in his shoulders tensed when he heard my approach.
I gently caressed his back, wincing when he subtly dislodged my touch. "Morning."
"Hey," was all he said in response.
My shoulders slumped, and the fear I held that my dreams had bled into real life climbed.
"You're up early." I moved around him, careful not to touch him, and grabbed the fresh coffee he'd brewed. I filled a mug with the still-hot liquid and took a cautious sip while I eyed him warily. The tension was heavy.
"Couldn't sleep." He kept his gaze averted.
I paused mid-sip, my heartbeat climbing to my throat. "Sorry. Was I-was I tossing again?" I broached the subject delicately, knowing it was a sore point in our relationship.
David finally turned to face me; his expression troubled as he regarded me carefully. His tired eyes searched my features in an almost lost way. "Yeah."
I placed my mug onto the counter. "I'm so sorry, hun. This Empire Gates project has me all out of whack. The stress is kinda getting to me."
David's lips thinned. "Your…night terrors are starting up again, Alice. I really wish you would start taking your pills."
I bit back a frustrated sigh at the same old, tired argument. "You know what those pills do to me," I quietly reminded him.
No matter how many times I explained to David that those pills left me disoriented, weak, and exhausted, he still insisted I take them.
To him, as long as I was no longer tossing and turning—mumbling god knows what in my sleep—then the pills were working.
I could understand his logic and appreciated his worry, but the end result did not make it worth it.
At least to me. David had witnessed what a walking zombie I became on those pills, so I hated that he kept pushing me.
"So what," he snapped bitterly, "I'm just supposed to lie there and watch you thrash about all night?"
This time, I couldn't hold back my sigh. "And what would you like me to do? Take the pills and feel like death ran me over with a dump truck all day?" I held out my hands in mock surrender. "Hey, as long as you get your beauty sleep."
David let out a disgusted grunt before dumping the contents of his mug in the sink. "I'm going to the gym," he muttered.
Shame and regret washed over me, and I cursed myself for being so selfish. David was so good to me; he was kind, patient, and loving. He deserved better than a distracted wife.
I reached out and slid my hand around his waist, stopping him in his tracks. I pressed a kiss to his arm as I grasped his hand. I almost slumped in relief as I felt his fingers clutch mine. "I'm sorry," I implored. "I'm sorry."
I traced his flat stomach with my fingers. He always looked so handsome in his gym gear, with his impressive biceps on full display. I also knew that he could never resist the feel of my hands stroking his body.
David faced me; his mouth turned down in worry as he gazed at me with soft brown eyes. He still held his body in rigid defense, so I reached up to gently cup his face.
An image of myself reaching up to lovingly cup another faceless male suddenly hit me square in the gut. The picture was so vivid that I sucked my breath in sharply.
"What? What is it?" David's worried tone sounded far away.
As quickly as it appeared, that déjà vu image vanished. I frowned in concentration, attempting to draw it back, not quite ready to let it go. But it was too late; the scene disappeared, leaving me empty.
"Alice?"
I swallowed past an emotional lump in my throat, finally coming out of my stupor. "Sorry." Confused tears burned at the back of my eyes. "Sorry, it's nothing."
His face softened when he spied my glassy expression before placing a light kiss on my forehead. "I'm sorry, baby. I just worry so much about you. You hardly eat, your nose is buried in work, and you sleep in two-hour blocks. Things are not right."
An angry haze washed over me at his words. It had only been a week! I swallowed back my annoyance and the heated retort threatening my throat because he was at least correct about one thing—my sleep and dreams were starting to crowd me.
I took a moment to concentrate on my husband, the man I should be dreaming about. I caressed his broad shoulders, my eyes averted from his. "I'll set up an appointment with Dr. Huang, okay? But I'm sure it's just the extra workload that has me out of sorts."
I was ready to promise David anything if only to drop the subject so we could get back to us.
We hardly ever argued. Our relationship had transitioned seamlessly from friendship to marriage, despite my doubts.
I fought hard to retain our peaceful existence, and I'd be damned if I let anything disrupt the life we built.
So if I had to see our doctor about new pills to appease my husband, then so be it.
David smiled in relief before pulling me into his arms. "I fucking hate that dick for stressing you out."
An irrational annoyance bubbled up at his insult, and I shoved it down before I could examine it too closely. Acheron Angelou was a dick. And he was stressing me out. There was no need for me to feel protective or defensive of him. Fuck, that dream really messed me up.
Smiling past my growing anxiety, I brushed my mouth against his. "It's the homestretch now, babe. Once this is over, we can book a vacation somewhere with Mr. Angelou's pay." I wiggled my brow suggestively.
"Mmm, I like the sound of that." His hand gripped my ass. "I guess he can have you until then."
David's mouth covered mine before he could catch the smile slipping from my face. As my husband deepened his kiss, the only thing flashing through my head was all the explicit ways Acheron Angelou could have me.