Mr. Billionaire's Lovely Wife.

Chapter Forty-Two.

The clock strikes midnight and I take a deep breath. There's a woman in my bedroom, probably waiting for me to come and finally talk to her. 

But here I am, hiding in my study because I don't want to face her after I've just informed her about her place in my life. The look on her face almost made me want to tell her the truth and advice her to leave right now. But I couldn't do that.

If only she had married me for money I'd be glad, reassured that I'm not the bad guy here. But I can tell that she accepted me as her husband with her whole heart. She looked happy. She was probably thinking that she was finally getting a family.

Marilyn Jones, daughter of Henry and Sophia Jones who died leaving their only daughter alone in this world. She's in her early twenties, graduated a couple of years ago, and has been working for my grandpa for a while now.

That's all I know about my wife.

I sit up a little straighter to pick up the file lying on my desk from the past week.

The file contains information about her—everything about her, from her birthday to any relationships she's had.

Information about all the twenty-something years she's spent on this Earth.

The schools she's studied in, the friends she's made and lost, any relationships she's ever been in, her hobbies, her preferences, each and everything.

Grandpa handed this to me personally a week ago and told me to study it, I don't know how he got all this information, but I feel like I'm violating her privacy.

Nonetheless, I flip open the file, because I need to know who I'll live with for a year or maybe more.

*

It's two in the afternoon and I just want to go home and get some sleep. But I can't. I can't go home, because if I do, I'll have to face her. I haven't seen her since last night. I feel like shit for leaving her alone on her first night in the house. I could've at least sat down with her for a while.

But I didn't.

I wish I could've warned her about what life she was going to live with me before I married her. I wish I could've begged her to reject me.

Because I know. 

I know what this marriage will do to her. How am I supposed to use a girl who looks like that?

How can I use a girl with eyes like that?

Where did I get a heart like this? How do I still have a heart?

I wish my heart would die.

I wish I could kill every emotion, every feeling inside me.

And just go home, whisper sweet nothings into her years all night long, be reckless with her.

Have my way with her without caring for a single damn thing.

But even though I want all my emotions dead, right now, I feel nothing for her.

Nothing at all. 

I thought maybe I'll want to kiss her, maybe take things further, because she's my wife now. I can have my way with her and I can tell that she'll let me. 

But I don't feel a fucking thing for her and that pisses me off even more.

Come to think of it, when was the last time I was with a woman?

Three years ago?

Four maybe.

Who was she?

The owner of that pub I used to go to?

Or grandpa's previous secretary?

I have no fucking clue. And I don't care.

I don't need women in my life to survive. I'm doing very well on my own.

Women are a waste of time. And I just brought one home last night.

Nothing but fucking waste of energy, space, and time.

*

"Will you have dinner?" Her voice reaches my ears before I see her face. She's in my study. The only place I thought she wouldn't step in.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. 

Then I turn my face towards her.

This is the first time she's addressed me after last night, and she's asking me if I want to have dinner.

I don't know what else I expected but I'm hungry and want food. but I don't know how I'm going to eat with her right by my side.

I look at her, her eyes are on me and they look...

Sad.

She looks sad.

This is the same girl who looked like she couldn't get any happier yesterday and now...

I did that to her.

I don't care. I shouldn't care.

She could've left yesterday when she got to know the reality.  She has a place to live, I would've divorced her, maybe given her enough to buy a new place or something.

I could've given her anything just to make her leave me.

She keeps on looking at me, expecting an answer. 

I finally give her a slight nod, just wanting her to leave this room.

"I'll be waiting for you downstairs." She says.

I turn my face away from her and take another deep breath.

So this is what it feels like to be married. To have someone wait for you at the dinner table.

Maybe at some point, it would get better, maybe it won't. I am getting annoyed by it. Why would she wait for me, when I can't even be bothered by her?

Is she dumb or does she have no self-respect?

Amidst these useless thoughts, I don't notice my cell phone ringing. 

When it starts ringing for the second time I pick it up hoping it isn't Andre.

Sure enough, it is.

"Yes, Andre?" I press the phone to my ear and close my eyes momentarily, waiting for whatever he's about to say.

The next moment, I shoot open my eyes, trying to wrap my head around what he just said.

No fucking way.