Married to a powerful businessman feared all-over Portland, Mia Kingston has a reputation to uphold. As the CEO of MK, her own lingerie brand, everyone believes she has everything, including the perfect marriage most women envy.
She's beautiful, s...
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My body loses its momentum at Patrick's words. "What do you mean?" I ask nervously, my heart beating out of rhyme.
"You slept in some cheap hotel in the middle of nowhere! Seriously, why do I feel like you're doing everything possible to annoy me lately? Shit! You should've stayed at home, Mia. I've told you over a million times but no! You always find a way to defy me!" Patrick barks nonstop.
As for me, a big sigh of relief escapes my lungs. It's just Patrick being Patrick; his unduly vanity is always unchecked. He simply hates anything cheap.
"I think you're exaggerating," I retort while squeezing the duvet tight to my chest so it doesn't fall. I take a seat on the couch. "My car broke down and I needed a place to stay overnight while waiting for the mechanic to fix it."
Patrick huffs and I can perfectly imagine his baleful look. "You mean the piece of shit that belongs to the third grade junkyard? What the fuck, Mia! I bought you two decent cars! Fuck, why are you so obsessed with that trash?" he bellows with pure, undiluted contempt.
Well, that piece of shit is the car I bought with my own money! I don't care about his fucking Audi R8 or the BMW X7 . . . I'm so much in love with my baby that I feel hurt by his words.
"If you have called me all the way from Switzerland just to bad-mouth my car then I'll just hang up right this second and pretend I didn't hear your voice at all," I reply coolly, annoyed, my voice warning.
Patrick backs off. He knows I never bluff as far as our arguments are concerned. I hear him sighing out his frustration, heavily, and perhaps he's running a hand through his copper hair with faint grey strands.
"Fine," he says, and then sighs again. "Mia, let's sort this out, baby," he suddenly tells me, sounding desperate and lovelorn.
What the heck! A frown flits across my face.
"Sort what?" My voice is sharp.
"This situation we're in, Mia. I feel like I'm losing you and it's driving me nuts! Fuck, I can't lose you, baby. I'd rather burn the whole world and disappear within than lose you!" Patrick snaps, panting.
Oh no. I feel the shrill in my heart at this proclamation of his; it's somewhat eerie. I hold my tongue tight, unsure on how to respond.
"Look. When I come back home we can go on a vacation; just you and me, Mia. To the Bahamas, to Hawaii, or on a cruise to the Caribbean— just anywhere you want to be, sweetheart," he adds, and I swallow hard.
Maybe four months ago I'd be jumping with joy at the mention of any trip with him. I loved him that much, but now I feel nothing thrilling. I can't even stand being in the same room with him, alone.
Is it because I now desire another? I can't help but ponder, my mind blazed. But no. It all began when I realized I'm not the only one he touches, he kisses, and even fucks. The day I learned of his infidelity.
