His HOT wife

Chapter Eight:Drey

Drey's POV

To say that I'm pissed was an understatement. I am furious.

I wanted to take Loraine out to dinner this evening.

I wanted to start making up for the time I wasted on waiting for her to calm down and giving her time and space and whatnot when I should be apologizing and proving myself to her.

I was a fool for thinking I was still in love with Angelica when I have already fallen for her long before I could even realize that I already have.

Fuck,

I regret ever leaving that place that night and dashing to that hotel room.

I know I've hurt her,

so much...

I've crushed her feelings like they don't matter when the truth was it did. And so much I was a fool to not notice.

She was so fragile and delicate and I made the stupid move of hurting her.

I regret ever causing so.

I now know time and space wouldn't fix anything..it wouldn't fix "us".

What we had.

It wouldn't fix what was broken and mend what was ruined.

Earlier today I immediately ordered my secretary to make the necessary arrangements for our dinner tonight in the most luxurious restaurant in town.

I've prepared everything, a romantic setting for a romantic dinner with my lovely wife.
I had her favorite flowers all over the private room in the restaurant.

And imagine my rage when I went to her work room and found out she was not there and that she went out with a Mr. Wilson. Mr.Wilson?? Who the fuck is that?!

I tried to make her assistant describe the fucker and got a handsome-hot-hunk as an answer.

I was furious.

I was tempted to destroy the fuckers face just so we could see whose the better faced one now.

I almost exploded right then right there and trash the whole place out of jealousy but steeled myself.

I then called off everything, went straight home and drank myself drunk.

Again.

Because of her.

Because I got jealous.

And because I can.

I just didn't know what to do,

And I never do this kind of jealous.

NEVER.

Ever.

well,

Not until now,

until her.

Loraine.

I was waiting for her beside the door, leaning my back against the wall in the dim light.

I glanced up at the digital clock, it read 12:02 am.

I am beyond nice at the very moment I think I'd be trashing this whole place by the next three minutes if she doesn't give me a good explanation for coming home very late or should i say early..knowing it's ALREADY "morning".

She went in smiling to herself, she looked HAPPY that just made me MORE furious.

Where has she been coming home late and smiling to herself shamelessly?