Maddening Max

Chapter 2: Douche

Marriage is a gamble, let's be honest. — Yoko Ono

( Unedited )

Angelik POV

Clamping my teeth together, I flung the coverlet off me.

I grumbled under my breath as I pulled myself up and swung my legs out of bed.

I narrowed my eyes at him and spoke in the same condescending tone.

"Of course, your highness. I apologize. I forgot it's one of the perks of being married to a king!" I gritted out. "Serve the king of assholes!" I supplied, eyes turning into slits.

He sneered as he pushed himself away from the doorframe, his hand holding his coat dropped to his side. The hem of his expensive pinstripe tweed coat touched the floor.

He made his way to me.

No. To put it right, he lurched forward.

A sudden fast forward step, swaying and almost tripping over his coat, he dragged with him.

A pang of sympathy washed over me, and then he opened his mouth.

With a wide, irritating smirk, he slurred. "That's my wife!" He grinned boyishly, so innocently, my heart clenched at its sight.

He halted, and he staggered. His hands proffered outward, trying to stay on his feet and not drop on his face-first on the floor.

He reminded me of Jack Sparrow on the Cruis of the Caribbean.

I want to laugh, cry in frustration, and at the same time, strangle him to death.

But he's intoxicated, and I'm not a cruel person.

I tamped down the urge to leave him here and tend to himself. Instead, I helped him get to my bed since it's the closest. Rather than drag him out of my room and down to his bedroom.

He dropped his body on my bed, grinning like a fool, and it annoyed me to no end.

I sighed.

He looked at me thoughtfully. Then he grinned again, so innocently, he seemed pretty amused.

Then, his eyes closed, and he's out, snoring softly.

I shook my head as I decided to help him out of his clothes from yesterday.

I struggled to pull his shirt off him after undoing all the buttons. He stirred and rolled to his side, which helped me pull the first sleeve off, then I pushed him, moving him to the other side, and he groaned softly. He rolled again to the other side, mumbling incoherent words.

I yanked the shirt off him. I pulled his pants off next and left only his undergarment.

Seeing his bulging organ, I glared at it like I had lost my mind.

Why would I ever think of blaming the innocent organ?

I sighed, pulled the covers up, and tucked the drunk under the blanket.

I grabbed his coat and wrinkled my nose when I smelled the whiskey that clung to the fabric.

I threw his coat in the hamper in my washroom. I didn't care that it was supposed to be dry cleaned. And Max usually collected all his dry-cleaned clothing in his dry cleaning hamper.

After washing my face and rinsing my mouth, I decided to make breakfast. My gaze briefly ran over the small alarm machine on my right side table as I walked towards the door.