Mafia Billionaire’s Forlorn Wife
Chapter 35

The sound of her heels clacking against the gold veined marble of the stairs makes me look up from my phone screen as I find myself at a loss for words the moment I see her.

Dressed in the b***d red gown that I bought for her, with her golden hair slicked back in a sleek up do and her lips painted in the same colour as the gown, Arabella looks like Aphrodite gracing the land of mortals.

Her eyes are shimmering with subtle glitter and with the way the gown is showing off her ample cleavage, I almost feel like dragging her back to my room and ripping all her clothes off before f*****g her senseless.

I am instantly hard just by a single look at her ethereal beauty and the moment her green eyes meet my own, I feel my mouth drying up and my throat parching.

Arabella is a marvellous goddess and at the moment, even as I am dressed in my finest suit and costlier than god shoes, I feel like nothing but a mere peasant in her presence.

“What? Are you pissed that I am late?” She snaps at me, making me blink out of my reverie where I am undressing every item of her clothing off of her body, with my teeth.

“By about two minutes.” I say casually, even though my voice strains towards the end as I clear my throat and try to divert my eyes but find myself unable to do so. My pretty little vixen has caught me in a stronghold.

She rolls her eyes and that just makes my c**k harden in my pants as I take shallow breaths, trying desperately to calm myself down. As she walks past me, her vanilla and honey scent tickles my senses and I find myself almost melting into a puddle of raging emotions at her feet because of that.

Has she grown more beautiful and angelic than this morning?

I shake my head, following after her as she steps out of the mansion and stops when she finds my Phantom parked in front of us.

Before she can reach out to open the door for herself, I beat her to it, opening it for her as I ceremoniously bow my head slightly, gesturing for her to get inside.

She looks at me quizzically, and then, shaking her head, she steps inside the car, grumbling something about me under her breath.

Shaking my head, and hoping to shake my non-gentlemanly thoughts, I close her door before walking over to the other side and taking a seat beside her.

For once the partition is down and I find Jordan looking back in order to ensure that we have both settled in before he starts driving to our destination, the Space Needle.

“What’s the charity for?” Arabella surprises me by asking as I look up at her and find her watching me expectantly. There is no trace of her thoughts on her face, her stoic and indifferent mask is fixed in order to give off a composed and clear view of her emotions.

My heart clenches in my chest as I realise that she has put up a shield between us but I ignore that nagging feeling as I say, “it’s for a Creativity Foundation that Madeline Gustav has founded.”

She quirks her perfectly arched brow, “what does this foundation do?”

I shrug, “you know, there are about hundreds of thousands of people who can do well in this world if they just follow their hearts and let their art do the talking. Writers, painters, designers, cartoonists, artists, people like that. But they cannot pursue their art because of various reasons like societal bounds, earning for their families, maybe even some health concerns. Madeline created this foundation to fund their livelihoods and get them connected to the big shots in their respective fields so they can bloom without anyone ripping out their roots. It’s a good effort.”

And something that I highly support. Madeline Gustav is a forty five year old woman who has the wit of a teenager on c***k. She is one of the few people I truly respect in the business world and when she called about this charity gala, I knew that I would attend. And when she asked for my wife to be present there, I knew that I had to oblige.

Although, accepting her demand had more so to do with the fact that I wanted to spend more time with Arabella, especially after the morning we had.

But I am never going to tell my beautiful blonde wife about that, nor am I going to tell her that I only RSVP’d yes after she told me that she wants nothing to do with me this morning.

Arabella nods her head, “that’s nice.” And then she turns her eyes to watch the city as it passes by outside the window, without paying any attention towards me.

I roll my eyes, realising well enough that it is going to he is quite a long night and one that she is going to spend irritating me in the most innovative ways possible.

By the time we arrive at the venue, our car being swarmed by the media, as the camera shutters go off outside our windows, Arabella looks back at me with a stoic look, “try not to embarrass me tonight.” She mutters before she gets out of her car when Jordan opens the door for her.

I furrow my brows, getting out after her and just as we are thrown into the throngs of media trying to get us to give a statement, I wonder what in hell she means by that statement.

When have I ever embarrassed her?

And that is when I hear Amelia’s voice—

“Oh, hey, Rhys! I was waiting for you.”

And with that, Amelia pulls me in for a hug without giving me a chance to comprehend the situation.

Camera shutters go wild.

And I know now what Arabella meant.

f**k.

I’m screwed.