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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As I scamper from the door, Patrick rises from the couch, staring back at me.
His eyes, same silver gray eyes that used to drive me out of my wit, are now nothing but the ashes of destruction of what's left for us. I see myself and all the things we could've built together; a real family—maybe one or two kids—and a dog too, as I always wanted to have one.
But who am I kidding? He never wanted kids or dogs, and he had me believe it was okay.
When I edge closer to him I feel that ache deepening in my heart, stabbing the same wound repeatedly, and I only wish to feel numb if I could. What went wrong with us? I've asked myself too many times already, and so, decidedly, I'm not gonna dwell on that. Not anymore.
And frankly, I've never been as angry at him as I am right now. What did he say again? That he came to take me back home? I scoff at the thought while shutting the door behind me. Patrick saunters toward me, his steps slow and nonchalant like the ritzy man he is.
But what's the use of a stylish man if he's shabby inside? I wish I knew this sooner.
"I always knew you were brazen but I didn't expect you'd be this shameless," I utter tightly without sparing him an ounce of civility.
"Why would I be ashamed, huh?" He halts right in front of me, the vein on his temple protruding sharply.
A tiny incredulous laugh leaves my lips. I decipher he feels no remorse at all. He's dry, so full of himself, as though everything is okay between us.
"I promised myself that I'm not going to ask you anything about your affair with Anne, so please leave me alone and continue having your dick sucked at any other place you wish to. Oh, that includes our bedroom, Patrick. You can bring her over and live happily ever after!" I say furiously, the anger tightening my chest until it hurts. "You should be ashamed to even try talking to me right now if you have any dignity left!"
Patrick licks his bottom lip and sighs. "You are still my wife, Mia. She's nothing compared to you, and you know that. Whatever you saw meant nothing to me! She's just for momentary pleasure, as you saw yourself."
"Fuck, Patrick! Don't be such an asshole!" I yell aggressively, unable to believe what I'm hearing. My chest shores up, enraged, and then down, teeth clenched. "I'm not going anywhere with you! You and I are over and you better start getting used to it because I'm never coming back to you! Never!"
Patrick doesn't flinch. Instead, he stares at me coolly. "I know you fancy this game of cat and mouse, butterfly, but I'm not in the mood," he finally says, paying no attention to my rage. He casts a glance from one side of the room to another, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his gray dress pants that are paired with a black polo shirt. When he looks back at me he says, "Pack your bags. We're going home!"
"Over my dead body!" I spit straight to his face and walk past him heading toward the bed.
