Mafia Billionaire’s Forlorn Wife
Chapter 20

I smirk staring at Rhys standing near the entrance of the cafe, fuming with rage as his shoulders practically heave up and down because of his rage.

His eyes are darker than the midnight they usually are, and from the muscle flicking in his jaw, I know that he has pieced everything together and is currently planning ways to get rid of me.

That is when an unsuspecting teenager, busy chatting with his friends behind him, bumps into Rhys from the side, and that results in the boy’s coffee to tip over the rim of his open cup and drenches Rhys’ expensive shoes.

I try keeping my expressions trained but I cannot stop the amused smile that makes its way onto my lips as Rhys breaks eye contact with me, only to glare at the short, curly haired boy with large headphones hanging around his neck.

The boy looks positively shaken as he stares at Rhys’ murderous expression, clearly shaken for his life as he stutters out an apology but Rhys does not reply. For a moment I even fear that he might just strangle the life out of the poor kid.

I slide out of the stool that I am sitting on, the knee length lavender dress that I’m wearing flares around my legs as I stride towards where Rhys is standing, inches away from ripping a new one into the teenager just as I reach my darling husband’s side.

“Sweetheart…” I chime, wrapping my hand around his, pressing into his side as I smile at the boy, “what’s happening here?” I ask no one in particular.

Rhys doesn’t reply but the boy’s eyes widen and I see a ray of hope when he sees that I am not glaring at him like the man beside me.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, I ended up spilling coffee on your partner’s shoes, I…I can try to p-pay for it…” his words start stuttering when Rhys’ gaze hardens on him and I giggle, not bothering to pay much attention to him for the moment.

“Oh, don’t you worry, love. I’m sure we’ll take care of it. You can go.” I tell him with the brightest smile on my lips as I feel Rhys’ eyes boring into my face from the corner of my eye but I don’t respond to him.

The boy’s eyes widen as he takes a double look between Rhys and eye, but getting scared of my mafia husband, he meets my eyes again with his own filled with uncertainty, “are you s-sure? I have money, I can replace—”

“No need, go on, I’m sure you’re getting late for something.” I tell him, this time giving him a meaningful look, demanding that he get out while he can.

Thankfully he takes the hint and rushes out before the effect of my presence wears off from Rhys. And then, I turn to grin at my husband, beaming at him at what I have just done to him this morning.

He meets my eyes and for a moment even I see that dangerous glint shining through his orbs but I hardly pay any attention to that, especially since I know that he wouldn’t cause a scene here.

“Hello, Mr. Mikhailov, how’s your day going?” I ask, looking at him with giddy excitement coursing through me.

A new sense of empowerment overcomes me as I stare at his agitated eyes right now.

I felt so defeated and disheartened at the fact that he had taken away all the assets that I had invested in and it was so f*****g infuriating because I know that I didn’t deserve that.

Up until two weeks ago, I was still understanding his need to get revenge on my father. I was upset, yes, but I also felt that perhaps, him and I could rekindle our love, if only he tries. And there were even moments where I felt that he wishes to try.

But then he came to Paris and just had to ruin everything. Now I know that I don’t want to do anything aside from making him feel the exact agitation, the exact anger that he has made me feel.

He will have the taste of his own medicine and I will bloody enjoy watching him gag on it.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He hisses, taking a step closer to me as I flash my eyes with mirth.

“Woah, careful, or you’ll be in the headlines for misbehaving with your wife in public.” I smirk at him, “tell me, Mr. Mikhailov, you don’t want that, do you?”

His jaw hardens as he glares at me with his lips pressed in a thin line.

I place a hand on his chest, knowing that to the rest of the world, we are husband and wife even though we act nothing like it.

“Tell me, how do you like this cafe and this building?” I ask looking around at the eclectic theme of my surroundings. “You know, I recently lost all of my investments, so I just had to find a way to acquire more. An a*****e decided that my assets were his to take. A fitting joint, isn’t it?” I ask looking around.

“What do you think will happen if you keep doing something like this?” I can practically see his anger rising to unbound levels and nothing is more exciting than that right now.

I have simmered in my anger for two weeks now, but I’ll be damned if I let him walk away scot free after this.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I ponder, shrugging my shoulders as the patrons inside the cafe all engage in their own things, thankfully there is no one from the paparazzi here at the moment otherwise this place is mostly crawling with those. “I’m just trying to build up my assets again, like I said. You know, I really love this street. This cafe, your usual bagel cart in front of the park, the Indian restaurant a few shops down that you love so much…I just bought them all. And I am just doing what I said I would, dear husband. You should have never taken away my stuff. Now, if you wish to be such a child, then that is how you shall be treated.” I conclude with a smile.

Our eyes are locked in a staring contest, daring each other to see who will look away first.

And when I don’t and he huffs, I grin, “nice chatting with you.” But just as I am about to turn and walk away, I stop to give him one last glance, “oh, and Mrs. Wilson is such a good woman. You remember I did some consulting work during my college, right? That really helped me become her personal advisor.”

And then I walk away from him, feeling proud of myself and like I had just accomplished something great.

⚜️⚜️⚜️

It is almost midnight that I am done with my official work. There is a new branch of Shangri-La that is opening in the city and they chose us for the interior design of the entire premise.

Removing my reading glasses from my face, I place my palms on my eyes, realising just how exhausted I am these days as my stomach grumbles in protest.

I sigh.

I missed dinner today and even after multiple coaxes from Vernon and Frida, I didn’t feel in the mood to eat anything then. That had been a marvellously bad idea, as it seems now.

Sighing, I get out of the bed, putting aside the iPad I was using to make a few initial designs, and running my hand through my hair, I walk out of my room, aiming to go to the kitchen for some light snack that can tide me over till the morning.

My bare feet feel cold against the marble of the floor as I walk through the quiet, lifeless halls of the house.

I have tried to personalise this place according to my own tastes in some subtle ways, but even then, I don’t feel at home. Or at peace.

And I know exactly who’s to blame for that.

Had Rhys been accommodating towards me, had he not been driven by this insane need for revenge that makes him believe me to be an enemy, then perhaps, just perhaps things would have been different for me here.

Vernon and Frida are both good and I know they try to make me feel better but at the end of the day, they too are Rhys’ people. They have watched him grow up and they have stood by his every antic in the past.

No matter how much I try to get closer to them, there is a slight reservation in my own heart. At this point I know it will always be there until Rhys decides to accept me.

Although I hardly see that happening anytime soon.

I am rummaging through the fridge for something to eat, wanting to find something filling but when I don’t, I sigh, realising that I would probably have to make something to eat.

I’m thinking of gathering the ingredients for a filling salad when I close the fridge door and I find my eyes colliding with angry, midnight blue ones.

I jump, “Rhys! f**k!” I gasp, placing my hand on my chest as I gape at him standing leaning against the shelf right beside the fridge. “You scared me.” I mutter, shaking my head.

His sudden appearance just reminded me of a long buried memory as I shudder and try to push that particular memory away from my mind completely.

“No, I didn’t scare you just yet, sunshine,” he mutters, making my heart skip a beat at the ominous and terrifying timbre of his voice, “but now I will.” And with that, he has me pinned against the counter, placing both his hands on either sides of me, clutching the edge of the granite counter top while he glares heatedly at me.

“Mr. Mikhailov—”

“Shh shh shh….” He breathes, his face only inches from my own as I look up at him, feeling my heart doing somersaults inside my chest as he brings his finger to rest against my l*p, “you spoke your piece in the afternoon, little one, now it’s my turn.”

I gulp, trying to speak something again but this time he places his entire hand on my mouth, clutching the back of my head as he gently tugs at the roots of my hair, pulling my head backwards until I am arched against the counter, completely encased by him, completely at his mercy.

“The only reasons I took your assets is because I wanted an opportunity to bring your father to his knees. To watch him beg. And I am not going to return anything until that happens.” He growls, pressing his body against mine and my eyes widen when I feel his hard on pressing against my torso, “if I ever return anything.” He adds, making me forget all about the dark thoughts that had started appearing in my head.

Anger courses through my veins as I bite his hand. Hard.

He doesn’t pull away his hand from my mouth but stares at me with amusement shining through his eyes. When I bite harder, he tilts his head to the side, watching me with a smirk lifting up the corners of his lips. “Really? That’s what you’re going for, baby?” He asks and I would be lying if I said that his words and closeness doesn’t make me want to rip his clothes off.

I know he’s an a*****e but my mind is filled with endless memories of him and his body pushed against my own. It is hard to forget about them.

He seems to notice something in my eyes as his eyes darken with desire and excitement and slight fear pools inside me, sending a streak of heat straight to my core.

I’m a goner.