>Mallory
"Sorry it took so long. Did sothing happen?"
Mr. Seymour finally returned to the table after his phone call. The legs of his chair scraped loudly against the floor as he pulled it back and sat down. The sound felt sharp in my ears, making the already tense air even heavier.
He glanced at , then at my husband, his eyes moving back and forth as if he could sense sothing was wrong. His smile slowly faded.
Before he could say anything else, my husband placed the wine glass down on the table afting taking a sip.
"Since you’re back," he said calmly, his voice low but firm, "I would like to inform you that the deal is off."
My head snapped toward him so fast my neck almost hurt.
He looked completely relaxed, as if he had just announced that dessert was canceled. He wiped the corner of his mouth one last ti before pushing his chair back.
"What?" Mr. Seymour’s face twisted in confusion, his brows pulling together. "What do you an, the deal is off?"
My lips parted, then closed. I wanted to speak and say sothing but no words ca out. My heart was beating fast.
My husband turned to face instead. He reached out and held his hand toward , waiting.
"Unfortunately," he said, his tone polite but cold, "I don’t appreciate anyone making my wife uncomfortable."
I swallowed hard and placed my hand in his. His grip was warm and steady, grounding .
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lola. Her face had changed completely. The sweet smile she had been wearing earlier was gone, controted into sothing unpaintable. Her fingers dug into the edge of the table as if she were holding herself back. Her face turning red.
For a brief second, guilt tried to creep into my chest it. After all, this happened because I lost my cool. A 50 million dollar deal... gone because of .
But then I rembered her openly flirting with my husband. Her feet brushing my husband’s ankle. And his eyes that makes feel like I was below him. I couldn’t help but feel satisfied.
The guilt vanished.
Play stupid gas, win stupid prizes.
"Mr. Archeval!" Mr. Seymour suddenly shot up from his seat, nearly knocking his chair over. "This is a 50 million dollar deal!"
Lola quickly stood as well, placing a hand on his arm to steady him. "Please, let’s talk this through," she said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
"We’re done here," my husband replied coldly.
He didn’t wait for another word. He turned and walked toward the exit, pulling gently along with him. I wrapped my arm around his, holding on as we walked away.
Their voices grew louder behind us, desperate and rushed, but they faded as the doors closed.
Outside, the cool night air hit my face. The city lights glowed around us as our limousine waited by the curb.
The driver quickly stepped out and opened the door, but my husband stopped him.
"I’ll drive," he said.
The driver froze for a mont, surprised, before nodding and handing over the keys.
My husband opened the passenger door for and guided inside with a hand on my back. Once he was seated, he started the engine, and the car smoothly pulled away from the restaurant.
I turned to look at him and noticed sothing strange.
He was smiling. His face looked like soone who won sothing instead of losing a million dollar deal.
My brows pulled together. "Why are you smiling?" I asked. "Didn’t you just lose a 50 million dollar deal?"
I couldn’t even imagine that amount of money. I had spent my whole life worrying over small bills, and here he was, smiling like nothing happened.
He glanced at briefly before looking back at the road. "Do I look like soone who cries over pennies?"
Pennies?
I stared at him in disbelief.
Our definitions of money clearly lived in different worlds.
"Pennies my ass," I muttered under my breath. "Must be nice being that rich."
He chuckled softly. Then, without warning, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a card. It was dark, sleek, and heavy-looking.
He held it out toward .
I blinked, confused, staring at his hand hanging between us.
"...Is that for ?"
He didn’t say anything, just waited.
Slowly, I took the card and looked down at it. The mont I saw it, my eyes widened.
"Is this a black card?!" I gasped, quickly covering my mouth.
I had only ever seen those online or on TV. I never thought I’d touch one in real life.
Why was he giving this to ?
"It’s yours," he said casually, as if he were handing a receipt. "Use it however you like."
"M-mine?!" I nearly dropped it. "N-no, I don’t need this!"
I shoved it back toward him, my hands shaking.
"Keep it," he replied, his eyes focused on the road, one hand steady on the steering wheel. "That’s your reward for being an amazing wife."
My heart skipped.
I wanted to argue more, but the look on his face told it was pointless. When he decided sothing, there was no changing his mind.
With a quiet sigh, I placed the card into my bag, treating it like a dangerous object.
As long as I don’t use it, it’ll be fine.
A few minutes passed in silence as the car moved through the city streets. The hum of the engine was steady, almost soothing.
Then sothing felt wrong.
Despite the cold air blowing from the air conditioner, my body felt hot. Too hot. My skin felt warm, and my chest felt tight. I felt like I was going to lt into my seat.
I lifted my hand and fanned myself. "Why is it so hot...?" I murmured.
He imdiately noticed.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with worry. "Are you sick? Should I take you to the hospital?"
His eyes kept darting between and the road.
"I-it’s fine..." I replied weakly, forcing a small smile.
But even as I said it, my vision blurred just a little.
Sothing was definitely wrong.
I want to take off my clothes. It’s so hot.
What’s wrong with ?
"W-wife?" he groans, I looked at him my mind hazy. Then, at my hand who was thoughtlessly reaching between his legs.
I want him.
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