The Billionaire's Fragile Bride

45. LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

Chapter dedication goes to SolMarie9 and Rananon

The ambience of the hallway in the penthouse was resplendent. The kind that enveloped you with coziness, making it impossible to sever yourself from the warmth.

The long corridors were demarcated by flush doors erected a few inches away from each other, on both sides of the hallway.

The Interscope interior decoration on the wall highlighted the room in its full glory and form.

Orla shrouded her shocked expression from Callan. She shouldn't expect any less from a five-star hotel. She looked down at her fingers that were protectively interlocked with Callan's, and a smile parted her lips into two. She had never felt so safe.

She swirled her head, her loud giggles piercing her husband's ears as she walked closely beside him.

Callan's lips twitched in a small smile. Her company was one thing he'd never joke with. Even the littlest things about her were consequential to him, he loved them and wanted to know every detail about his wife. She completed him so well.

"Did you book a room for us?" In a split second, she studied the hallway.

Chandeliers dangled from the tall ceilings, the lights they emitted were as bright as day.

Orla ducked her head, the lights were directly shimmering on her face. It was as if they were exposing her to the world, murmuring to everyone that she and Callan were about to indulge in some unholy acts.

She wasn't far from squealing when that thought struck her mind. Unholy acts with Callan were like jaunt to a land of glee. Every bit of the act was always enjoyable.

Standing in front of the room he had booked for them with a swipe card in his left hand, she dangled her feet on the floor, eager to hurry in as soon as he swiped the card to unlock the door.

"You don't like hotels?" He asked, opening the door to the palatial room.

The room's aesthetics were girly. Blue and pink wall paintings. Blue lights that barely gave prominence to anything in the room. As they walked in, Callan flipped the switch to a white bright light.

A well-laid king-sized bed with a pink and blue duvet took more than half of the room, leaving little space for the media shelf that housed sets of electronics and a flower vase.

The windows were tall, the wardrobe as large as their closet at home. There were two couches for relaxation and a centre table in between.

A glass door stood in place of a wall at the other end of the room. Orla sighed after she was done feeding her eyes. Callan had done well, so well.

She wanted to respond to Callan that she didn't like the idea of camping in hotels because she had seen in movies what people do there. But the moment she glimpsed the luxury room, her crude idea of immorality in hotels flew out the window and vanished into thin air.

"I do like hotels." Although that was the first time she was stepping foot in one.

"I guess we will visit frequently then." He closed the door and snaked an arm around her tiny waist. "Happy Birthday to you, Orla."

She wasn't certain why Callan kept repeating those words. But they sounded nice, it'd been years since she heard someone wishing her a happy birthday and it felt good that her husband didn't cease to wish her today.

"Do you like the room?"

She stayed on a spot, scrutinizing the room with her eyes. He blinked, wondering if she didn't like it.