My Dear Deadly Husband

Chapter 8

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Under the city skylines, Rose quickly tapped her small heels across the cold cement. A cloud of smoke departed from her lips as she huffed. Clutching onto a bag as she tried to run in a constricting pencil skirt proved to be quite difficult.

She was in a hurry. She knew she wasn't supposed to be this late.

How could she say that her boss wanted her to help clean up afterwards? She felt as though he wouldn't believe her even if she tried.

As she rounded the corner, she cursed silently. She saw the lights of their condominium lit up in a yellow ember and a shadow looming over the balcony, silently leaning on the seamless silver railing. His face looked out into the dark with no expression, a faceless gaze.

When her heels seemed to capture his attention, he slowly turned his head and faced her, a tight frown etched on his face. She immediately gulped and clutched her bag tighter.

She was dead.

"Do you realise what the time is?" he said.

She flinched. She contemplated on whether she was supposed to answer or not. It was a question indeed, though she never tried to answer them for her own reasons.

She paused as she took a light step onto the marble. Her foot tapped a small step as she gently passed by him and walked inside the warm interior. He subsequently followed her inside, locking arms in his chest, just to show her that he was not taking her behaviour.

"It's almost midnight, Rose. You said the party would end at nine. Not only are you three hours late but you didn't even give me a call nor answer any of my calls. Do you know how worried I was?" he asked whilst following her upstairs.

She quickened her pace to the bedroom and at the same time, took off her coat and dumped it onto the chair.

"I'm sorry, my phone ran out of charge," she said.

Which was true, but she was sure he wouldn't just believe that.

"Out of charge? How can your phone be out of charge? Your phone model is still new so the battery should've be working at it's optimum. I know for a fact that you don't it use it enough for it to run out charge that quickly. I even saw you charge it before you left," he argued.

She gulped inwardly but ignored him as he followed her right into the bathroom where she quickly began to take her makeup off. While she ripped open the plastic packet of makeup wipes, her husband stood there with a stern expression on his face.

"Rose, answer me," he said.

As soon as she heard his voice echoing through the tiled walls, she closed her eyes briefly and took a long stare at herself in the mirror. Quietly, she put the stained wipe down onto the counter before turning towards her husband.

Their eyes met by immediate sparks.

"Keenan," she whispered, "I really didn't mean to miss your calls. My boss wanted me to help him pack up afterwards which is why I took so long," she explained.

She immediately saw how his eyes squinted at a certain word and she instantly regretted it.

"Him? Your male boss wanted you to stay behind and help him? Why would he ask you, why couldn't he ask another person to help?" he began.

"It's part of my job," she tried to stress.
That made it worse.

"Helping your boss clean up a social event after work is not part of your contract. You should know that but you still let him, that mutt. Remember, we had an agreement that you would only work for three days a week from nine to three. Anything work related after that is something you have to ask me about," he reprimanded.