His Second Wife

Chapter 17

~Camile’s POV~

I woke up with a severe hangover.

Fuck!

I’ve never had a hangover like this before. It must be the difficulties and everything I’m dealing with at the same time. That causes me to check the time. It was Monday. Oh, my God. I needed to get my son to school.

“Robin!” I yelled as I raced to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Once done, I rushed downstairs, and I saw Robin sipping coffee and reading a newspaper. I was so tired. “Would you mind driving us to school today?”

“Master has already dropped Liam off at school, ma’am.”

How could that conceited jerk have driven Liam to school?

That jerk is solely concerned about himself. I sat down on the sofa and before I knew it, I was dozing off again. It was about 11 a.m. when I woke up again. I walked upstairs, had a bath, and then went to the kitchen to prepare something to eat. On top of the table, I saw a file. I was tempted to open the file, but instead, I cooked my breakfast, ate, and went upstairs to change into a dress and apply red lipstick. I’m not a big lover of makeup, so I didn’t wear any except for the red lipstick and pulled my hair up in a ponytail. I adjusted my clothing while looking at my reflection in the mirror. As a social wife, you must ensure that the staff members are not dressed to the same standard as you. Of course, I despised dressing in this way, since it drew too much attention from me, the dress hugged my contours and was short, and I wore heels.

I was dangerously beautiful, there was no denying that I was a little peppery for a wife.

I picked up my car keys and the paperwork and went outside. I got out of my vehicle and walked up to the Gigantic glass contract building. I went inside since his personal assistant was not at the table. Chris wasn’t alone. The guy seemed to be a client. The guy looked at me with so much passion, as if I were a piece of steak. I fucking hate that.

~Christopher’s POV~

I hate clowns, and this dude wasted my time. Did I just forgo my lunch to meet up with this idiot? Isn’t Mark the one who said this guy was the finest in his field? I’m sitting here, listening to this moron rant. I massaged my brows. He went on and on about how much money Grayston Group would make out of the deal. Then I spotted him peering behind me. The moron then licked his lips and began dangling like a dog.

Why am I here again? I keep reminding myself of the same fucking question since this idiot walked in.

“I had no idea you had such a lovely assistant, Mr. Grayston.”

“What is this moron talking about? My assistant is a guy.”

Who is this idiot lustfully looking at?

“Hey, beautiful, do you mind if I join you for lunch after my appointment with Mr. Grayston?”

“Are you stupid?” I paused, blood boiling, veins popping.

No, he didn’t.

Was this knucklehead lusting after my wife? I turned my attention to her. She was enraged, and I knew she’d start speaking Spanish anytime from now.

“I’ll show you a good time. What’s your name?” The fool in front of me blurted out, what was his name again? The way he bore me I even forgot his name. He got up from his seat and sniffed her neck.

Did this jerk just sniff my wife?

I had to pull him back into his chair.

“If you want to get out of here alive, apologize for sniffing her. You do not have the right to sniff her. You’re going to do as I say, or I vow to God you’re going to lose everything you care about today.”

“Why are you behaving this way, Mr. Grayston? She’s only your assistant. You may have fucked her once or twice. Let me simply get a piece of her lovely curves.” I was ready to smack him in the face when Camille punched him so hard that he spit out two of his jaws.

“That’s what you get for eye-fucking me.” Then I heard a smack, “That is for insulting me.” Looking at him. Hell, I felt gratified. I married the daughter of Jackie Chan.

“Mr. Grayston, why are you allowing a member of your staff to harass me?” I clenched my grip on him even tighter. I hissed,

“This lady you’re drooling over is my wife.” I watched as his eyes widened. As I previously said, you will apologize to her or lose all you have ever worked hard for in the blink of an eye. I’ll give you one minute.”

I watched him crawl over to Camille and apologize, “Ma’am, I’m very sorry. Please accept my apology.” I watched as her frigid face became warmer.

But then again, I told him 1 minute, and he was still anxious about his pride. It took him 5 minutes to go down on his knees and beg.

“As you can see, you were late. I promised one minute, but you took much longer. You are free to go. Thank goodness for my wife’s presence. If not, I would have chopped your head off. Oh, and there will be no bargain since your family business is now mine. I purchased it while you were still swallowing your pride. Now, get lost!!

Shit!

Camille had to witness that. I love it when she fights me, but now if she sees how ruthless I can be, will she still dare fight me? I avoided meeting her gaze.

“How did you end up at my office?” I barked to avoid answering any of her questions. I know she’s courageous, and I know she’d be smart not to ask me anything right now.

“You forgot these on top of the table.” I noticed the documents in her hand.

Fuck!

“Thank you; this is for my next meeting. Why are you dressed like that, Camille?” I saw her giving me a lethal gaze and walking out on me. I went after her. “Let me drive you home.”

She eyed me with complete disdain. I didn’t care. I had no intention of letting her go anywhere dressed like that.

Why do I sound so clingy? This is Camille, and she is merely a girl I married.

I have to remind myself of that. Fuck! This is going to be difficult.

“I brought my car, you know? Didn’t you just say you had a meeting?”

“Shut up and get in.” She got into the passenger seat, and I drove her car. She sat staring through the window the entire journey, avoiding my gaze. That outfit isn’t good for her, it really isn’t. Fuck, I’m hard.

I looked at Camille and that little demoness knew what she was doing to me.

This girl is going to be the death of me. Is it not possible for her to dress properly, like a married woman? Married women are usually in lengthy clothes to disguise their physique, not Camille. She can even stroll around nude. She is unconcerned about who says what. What type of woman is she?

We went inside the Villa when we got home.

“What are your plans for today?” I inquired, as a good husband should. Today, I’ll pretend to be a wonderful, loving husband. She’s not going anywhere in that outfit.

“Just picking up Liam and taking him to the rink.”

“Dressed like that?” I asked, like a seriously concerned husband should. Fuck! Playing husband is not my thing. This nonsense makes me seem clingy. I don’t do clingy.

“How do you want me to dress? Do you want me to go there naked? I’m capable of doing so, you know.”

We’re at it again. Are we incapable of having a regular conversation without fighting? She is always, and I mean always, seeking a fight. My little demoness wife. Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

“Stay at home; I’ll pick him up. Give me the rink’s address.” I barked. She gave me a dubious glance before inspecting me from head to toe. I laughed under my breath. This 21-year-old is bringing me down a notch. I’m not blaming her; I’m blaming myself. After all, I married her and she makes my cock twitch every time without even trying.

“Oh, and I need to go grocery shopping.” I came to a complete halt.

“You what?” She gave me a mischievous smirk. She knows what she is doing, and it is fucking damn working.

Alright Chris, play a loving husband, just for a day, just a day.

“groceries. Right, send me the list.” I barked, and I left before she added more. She is straining my patience.

Am I actually doing groceries?