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Chapter 3 (Quit Your Job)

Author: Subbystar
last update publish date: 2024-12-09 03:04:47

Aurora POV

I walked inside the house, exhausted. I was just coming back from work and I just wanted to have my bath and crash on my bed, but of course that won’t be possible today as I met Dexter in the living room, he was sitting on the couch, some files on it with his laptop on his lap. After that horrible night, I made sure I was steered clear of his way. It’s been two weeks and I can finally resume work. It’s been lonely in this mansion and resuming work has been refreshing. I ignored him, trying to work faster to the elevator.

“Come back here,” he snapped. I sighed, stopping in my tracks. I turned around, walking towards him. I inspected him and I couldn’t help but wonder, why is he so handsome. And with how long his legs are, I can see he will be very tall when standing. I couldn’t deny the fact that he is the most handsome man I have ever seen. He has the most beautiful olive skin, with grey eyes which honestly complement his skin, and those jaws. What I would do to run my fingers around it.

“Move closer,” he said, cutting me out of my thoughts. I looked around the living room. It was only us here, and I was confused why he said I should move closer, but I moved closer anyway. 

“Move closer,” he said, and I moved again. I was standing in front of him and I don’t know how I feel about us standing so close. He took my hand, dragging me to him, and my eyes widened in shock. I was even more shocked as he sniffed me. That is such a disgusting thing to do. Why is he sniffing me? Is he a wolf?

“Why do you reek of sweat and meat? Where are you coming from?” he snapped, letting go of me. I quickly moved back, sniffing my clothes. I can’t smell anything.

“I am coming back from work,” I said. He glared up at me.

“What work?” he snapped. I sighed; I need a break.

“I work, Mr. King. I work in a restaurant,” I said. 

“What restaurant?” he asked.

“It’s an Italian restaurant, D’Amelio Cuisine,” I answered, and he picked up his phone. I don’t know what he saw on that phone, but he looked really angry.

“How dare you work in this lowlife restaurant?” he asked, his voice calm. Lowlife? I am their head chef, and I have been working there for 5 years. They pay me well. What does he mean?

“I’m sorry, lowlife?” I asked, and he looked even more angry.

“Quit your job,” he snapped, and my eyes widened. Quit my job? Never.

“I’m sorry, Mr. King, but I can’t quit my job,” I snapped. I don’t know where I got my confidence from, but he looked very angry.

“Are you talking back to me?” he asked, his piercing grey eyes glaring at me, and I gulped. Why does this man intimidate me so much?

“You will quit your job; I won’t have you disgracing my name. How can I allow my wife to work in such a restaurant?” he asked.

“This is a contract marriage, Mr. King; everyone knows, and I am sure they…” He cut me off harshly.

“You will quit your job, and that’s final!” he yelled, and I flinched. I looked at him, and I felt like taking the knife on the centre table and running it through his neck. How can I quit after working with them for 5 years? They are my family, and they are so nice to me; the customers love me, and a lot of them tip me a lot. Without me in that restaurant, it won’t move like it used to. I went on my knees.

“Please let me keep my job; I am the head chef, and they need me,” I begged, clapping my hands together. 

“You will quit your job tomorrow. You are a king now; you won’t drag the name in the mud,” he snapped, leaving no room for discussion. I looked at him, frustrated.

“So what do I do now? Stay in this mansion and roam around jobless?” I asked, trying not to snap.

“No, of course not, dear wife. From now on, you will tend to your husband. Help me get ready, be at my beck and call, and get me everything I need. You decided to marry me anyway, so do your duty,” he said, and I gulped, standing up.

“You want me to serve you?” I asked, and he smirked. How I wish I could punish that smirk.

“What? Is it too hard for you?” he asked, and I breathed out, deciding to keep my temper in check. 

“No, Mr. King, I will be at your beck and call,” I said through gritted teeth. He smiled, and I looked away so I didn’t glare at him.

“Good, now grab the wheelchair,” he snapped. I sighed, dropping my bag. I went to the wheelchair that’s on the side of the couch, wheeling it to him. The wheelchair looks so expensive; it must have cost a fortune.

“Help me on it,” he said, and I breathed out, going to him. He moved to the edge of the couch, and I wrapped my arms around his waist, trying to help him off, but this man weighs so much more than my little frame can carry. I found myself losing my balance, and we both fell to the floor with me under him. My eyes widened as his face was awfully close to mine; his lips were inches from mine, and we were breathing the same air. Out of shock and fear of our lips touching, I pushed him roughly. I heard a loud thud, followed by an ear-piercing scream, his head hitting the wooden centre table.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I panicked, trying to help him up.

“Get away from me!” He screamed, and I flinched, not knowing what to do.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you,” I said, still trying to help him. His forehead was red; that must have hurt a lot.

“Stay away from me!” he screamed, his eyes watering. Oh my God, what have I done? I heard footsteps. Mary and some maids ran to us in sheer panic. 

“What is happening?” she asked, and before I could say anything, he beat me to it.

“She wants to kill me, Mary. Help me out of here before I am killed,” he said, lying on the floor. Mary’s eyes widened as she saw his red forehead, and I gulped.

“What did you do?” she snapped at me, running to him. I bit my lips, watching as they helped him up from the floor, putting him on the chair.

“Take me to my room; I am done for tonight,” he said, and I watched all of them go, carrying the files and laptop. I breathe out, slumping on the couch.

“Great, I almost killed a crippled man,” I mumbled. I remembered what had just happened, and I groaned out. I stood up, carrying my bag and running to my room. I would rather not face anyone tonight!

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Linda
This is getting interesting. I’m interested in how the author brings this to a head!
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