11. Christian
ELEVEN
CHRISTIAN
I was jetlagged, exhausted, and Adelaide hadn’t spoken to me since we left the hall which succeeded to piss me the fuck off.
When I brought the car around, she sat in the back while Osama openly snickered. The two talked about movies and books the whole way to Morning Star—a smaller cafe and lunch spot in the heart of New York—which opened about a year ago. According to Adelaide’s Instagram, this was her favourite spot.
Not once did Adelaide give any of her enthusiastic attention to me. Smiles were bright but only for Osama, and dimmed whenever I pitched in.
“I transferred a million dollars to your personal account,” I interrupted Osama’s talk of some Queen of Tears k-drama. “It should be enough for your personal needs for now.”
“To mine,” Osama gasped with faux excitement. “Why, thanks Christian! All this time I thought you were an asshole.”
Adelaide’s gentle laugh collided with the beats of my heart with a ferocious pressure.
Hands tightened around the wheel. Going to Switzerland and coming back to New York in one day wasn’t for the weak. I left late afternoon yesterday, fought for the ring, and arrived back at the same time the sun rose.
Fucking drained and desperately in need for black coffee .
“I’ve purchased the new computers.”
She furrowed her brows. “Why?”
“What’s mine is yours.” Through the rear-view mirror, we locked our gazes. My stentorian heartbeat vibrated to the tips of my fingertips, tapping restlessly on the wheel.
Osama blew out a low whistle. “Why aren’t the computers shipped to my place? I feel like it would be better since, you know…” He erased himself from the conversation when he caught my murderous expression. “Never mind.”
“Excuse me? Who decided that it would be at your place?” An inferno scorched manically in Adelaide’s eyes.
Casually, I replied, “ I did.”
“Oh really,” an arched brow. “That wasn’t in the contract.”
It was my turn to laugh.
“It was. Ever heard of the fine print?”
Without any failure, I parallel parked into a spot a couple of cars away from the front of the bistro and turned the car off.
“We can’t sit in the same car without fighting, you think we can live in the same house?” Her voice pitched a bit. Exaggerated.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Most couples live together and I’m not sure if you know this, but all married couples live in one house.” This shouldn’t even be a fucking argument.
With pursed lips, Osama turned to look at me and quickly looked away when he saw my face fuming. “Imma just…” He indicated leaving out the door with sideway thumbs. I glared at him. “Yep,” he popped the p . “I’m out of here, peace.”
Not even a second later, Osama dashed out the passenger’s seat and all but ran into Morning Star.
Adelaide’s eyes scorched me through the mirror.
Fuck . How long has it been since I got laid?
Oh, I know. Seven fucking years.
It didn’t help that her body was orchestrated for mine. But this was physical chemistry, something her and I never lacked. Sex was a normal part of life and maybe, if she wasn’t so stubborn, we could come to some kind of an arrangement. One that would mean having her body next to mine every night. One that meant extracting every minuscule version of lingering pleasure within her.
It didn’t help that her ass looked incredible in that obscenely yellow coloured skirt. Curves—delicious and precious—only belong to her. I’d never stared at a woman long enough to admire the elegant lines of her body, but with Adelaide it came naturally. She stood in a room and like an aesthete, I stared at all the tiny details that made her her . As long as I was alive, there’d never be a day where she’d go unnoticed.
Adelaide Mikael was a reverence to my patience and it fucking unnerved me to see her break it down piece by piece when I didn’t have the luxury of putting myself back together.
We’d be perfect in bed together. Every bit of pleasure she wanted; I’d happily give it all.
Except, you can’t. Because this marriage isn’t real, and she pretty much hates your fucking guts.
There was that small detail.
Whipping my head around, I rested my elbow on the space between the headrest and the shoulder portion of the seat.
She glared.
I stared.
Without another word, she got out of the car.
Leaving me with my mouth half-open.