Mafia Billionaire’s Forlorn Wife
Chapter 34

There is something hard pressed against my cheek as I slowly open my eyes, moving my hand around, trying to decipher my surroundings while my head hurts terribly.

My palm connects with something long and hard and my entire body stiffens as my eyes open wide in realisation.

“Careful, little one.”

A shiver slithers down my spine at my husband’s sleep ridden voice, deep and growly in the morning as I realise that my palm is still resting on top of his very hard manhood.

I pull back instantly and turn my head towards Rhys only to find his arm tightened around my waist while my cheek is pressed against his chest.

“What are you doing in my bed?” I mutter, staring into his eyes with my lips pulled down in a frown while I try to repress my racing heart because of his proximity. This is the first time that we have woken up in the same bed. Even before our wedding, Rhys has never slept the night with me.

His lips pull up in a smirk as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, “actually, Ivy, this is my bed.”

My eyes widen as I finally take in my surroundings and sure as hell, we are not in my room right now.

I take in the modern interiors designed in shades of black, brown, and grey with a sprinkling chandelier occupying the entire roof above the bed. Dark coloured curtains hide what I am assuming are panoramic windows giving a view of the entire estate. And in front of the bed is an archway that leads towards what looks to be a seating area, separated by a thin screen from the actual bedroom. To my right is another archway which leads into an elaborate walk in closet where I can see Rhys’ expensive clothes and accessories on display and I am assuming that the entrance to the en suite has been designed through the closet.

My heart is thudding wildly in my chest as I realise that I am, in fact, in Rhys’ bed and for the first time I am getting to see the insides of his room.

Throughout the last six months of our marriage, I have never once dared to come here, not even when my curiosity tried to get the best of me. It was a matter of my self respect and I had vowed that I wouldn’t set foot in this room unless Rhys brings me here willingly.

And now he has…but I don’t know what to make of his decision.

How the hell did I even end up here?

“You were too drunk to comprehend anything and I couldn’t let you sleep alone in that condition. So, I brought you here,” Rhys replies and I realise that I had asked that question out loud.

I nibble on my bottom l*p as I stare at him with nervousness, “you could have left me on the couch, I’m sure I would have passed out and remained there till the morning.” I state, not understanding his intentions.

I don’t understand why he chose to finally bring me to his room when he has spent six months claiming that he would never do something like that.

Rhys gives me a harsh look, “you’re my wife, Arabella, I wouldn’t have left you there to fend for yourself in the state that you were in.” He affirms like it is the most obvious thing to do.

Confusion gathers around my heart as I blink at him, “what do you mean? I have passed out on the couch about a hundred times in the last six months.” I state before adding, “Albeit the fact that it has mostly been after I fell asleep reading some book or doing my office work, but Vernon has practically woken me up in the mornings when he and the staff arrives at the start of their shift.”

I don’t understand this situation even a single bit right now.

Rhys furrows his brows, “and you just slept on the couch and no one bothered to wake you up to take you back to your room?” He sputters out, and I swear I see a flash of guilt in his eyes at that.

I scoff, “there is no one working at night, Mr. Mikhailov.” I remind him, “I mean, yeah, Vernon has always asked me not to sleep there because…well, it does hurt my neck a little when I wake up because quite frankly, it’s a pretty cosy couch, but I always tell him that it is inevitable when I end up falling asleep. Besides, that is the only place in the entire house that feels like my own.” I shrug.

I don’t know if there is something about this morning or if I am just done hiding things from Rhys or perhaps it is the fact that I know he won’t give two f***s about me, I don’t think I can continue hiding things like this from him.

What’s the point, really? It’s not as if he cares.

He has proven that over and over again about a million times.

“What do you mean that couch is the only place that feels your own?” He asks, “this entire house is yours, Arabella, and your room is the biggest one in your wing. I don’t know why you bother to sleep on that stupid couch.”

“Because everything else is yours, Mr. Mikhailov!” I shriek, unable to stop myself as my fists clench into tight fists as I rip away from his grip, sitting up and facing him. “Everything in this house belongs to you and that stupid couch is the one thing that I bought after I came here. It is the only thing that is mine!”

“Everything here is yours!” He too sits up and glares at me heatedly, “literally everything under this roof is yours, Arabella. You’re my wife and—”

“IT DOESN’T FEEL LIKE I AM YOUR WIFE!” I end up screaming, my shoulders heave up and down in frustration as I glare at him, “you have done nothing but remind me over and over again that I am nothing but a means to an end for you. Nothing but a stepping stone towards your messed up revenge fantasies against my father, and you have the f*****g audacity to sit there and tell me that everything in this house is mine? No, Mr. Mikhailov, it is all yours and I am just a prisoner, forced to be here, just like everyone else in your life and—”

I stop abruptly as I realise what I have just said and my eyes widen when I see rage dissolving in his midnight blue orbs as he lunges towards me and grabs the back of my neck, gripping at the roots of my hair as he brings my face closer to his while he takes in barely controlled breaths.

“Listen to me, wife.” He growls, “you can call yourself whatever you want and I don’t care if you don’t feel married to me. But you will still act married because that is what you’re supposed to do.”

I scoff, tears fill up my eyes as I stare into his intense glare, unable to stop my rising emotions as I realise that he will never see me as anything more than a possession.

“That is all you care about, isn’t it?” I utter out, “the front that our marriage puts out in front of the world.” My voice cracks but I continue speaking, “don’t worry, Rhys, I am still going to continue pretending to be your wife because I know that you will never let me go and will always hunt me if I do leave. I would rather not have you at my tail till the day I die. So get your f*****g revenge from my father and then leave me the f**k alone.” And saying that, I push him away, removing the duvet from my body, I step down from the bed before turning to give him one last glance, “and I will not be sleeping with you anymore. I am done.”

Saying that, I start to stalk out of the room just when his voice stops me in my tracks, “I am expected to attend a charity gala at the Needle tonight. I expect you to be ready and presentable by six in the evening. I’ll send you the gown and other details.”

A tear streaks down my cheek but I do not turn around, “alright.” I scrunch my eyes shut at the way my voice trembles on that simple word.

But then, without saying anything else, I walk out of his room realising that perhaps, the countdown towards the end of this marriage has begun for the two of us.

The only question is, how much longer will I be able to resist this pain and how much longer will I be able to pretend in front of the world?