BILLIONAIRE'S second chance ✔

Ch 22

Word count: 1610

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"Do you know what you just did?" Monica demanded with a glower, pacing about. When she paused to face him, she dug her right index finger into Sucre's chest with flared nose and sharp eyes. "I don't even want to look at you right now."

"Tell me, dear wife. Why are you so upset?" Sucre was calm despite the slight panic slowly rising in him. She couldn't be that angry with him, could she?

Sucre sneered at himself. Who was he kidding? The woman had every damn right to be pissed.

"You just humiliated me." Monica gritted through clenched teeth, her eyes momentarily blurring before she blinked away the tears threatening to escape.

Sucre eyed her warily but chuckled to cover up his slight panic. "I didn't humiliate you, I only knew better than to let my wife wander away so I did what I knew was best."

"Don't think I'll forgive you for this, also don't you even try to call yourself my husband. A husband protects the dignity of his wife, he doesn't put it in the open for the whole world to laugh her to scorn!" Her left hand whipped in the air before landing on his cheek and she stormed off into Sucre's private jet, her chest heaving as she recalled the incident from earlier.

So it just happened that things had been going well for the both of them and Sucre couldn't have asked for a better life as a married man. Their relationship had been progressing smoothly and Sucre got to know more about Stephanie and also spend time alone with Monica. He just couldn't seem to function right without her by his side.

Then the day of their departure from Canada to Italy finally arrived and Monica had gone to the mall very early in the morning with Stephanie to get some dresses, only for her to realize she was being followed- subtly, of course.

At first, Monica had shrugged it off and insisted that she was only being paranoid and then she decided to alight the car and act like she was walking the other way. At the last minute, she stormed towards the sleek black Toyota Camry she'd seen following her twice before on her way to work a few days ago. And when she knocked on the window, it just happened that one of the men she'd had a date with weeks ago was in the driver's seat.

Sean Owen, the blonde bank manager who had told her on their date night that he wanted to do so many dirty things to her after spanking her butt silly in a public toilet. She remembered pouring wine on his head and heaved a contented sigh, knowing he'd deserved way worse.

Still, Monica had been, to say the least, appalled by the sight of him dressed in all black and putting on black shades. Was he following her like some creepy stalker?

"What are you doing here?" She'd asked sharply.

"Er..it's a bright morning Mrs Ambrosia so I thought I'd-" he'd been explaining with a smile when Monica snapped.

"Shut up! You sick weirdo, I'm not having sex with you okay? And you should be reported goddammit!" She'd leaned in to have a peek at whosoever was sitting beside him.

Surely they'd be birds of the same feathers, flapping their wings in the same direction!

But much to Monica's dismay, the person sitting right beside the driver had actually been another one of her dates, Frederick Roman, the police officer who wouldn't stop yapping about dead bodies. An image of him ranting off about how many people he'd killed and how dead bodies of people in different tribes and traditions were usually cremated or buried filtered into her mind but she'd blinked the thought away as quickly as it surfaced.

Monica had pursed her lips and squinted. "How do you know each other?"

"You've got the wrong guys lad-" she hadn't given Sean the opportunity to finish speaking before landing her right palm on his cheek. It stung her palm but Monica was too furious to care.