“Gabriella!”
His loud bellow jolts me out of my thoughts, and my heart races while I wait for the impending confrontation. As the sound of his footsteps draws near, nausea roils in my stomach, and I brace my hands against the counter so hard that my knuckles turn white. I’m not ready for this breakup, but I suppose I never will be. A year ago, I wouldn’t have believed I’d be here, in this position, ready to walk away from him, but the reality is that he walked away and checked out of this relationship first.
“Oh, there you are,” he states, frowning when he sees me sitting there. His eyes narrow as he shakes his head as if I had the gall to not have come running the moment he beckoned. “What are you doing? You know what time my flight is and you were supposed to finish my packing.”
“I’m not your servant, Adrian,” I inform him, practically choking on the words. Because, if I actually examine our relationship, that’s exactly what I’ve become.
He chuckles as if he disagrees, and my eyes narrow as I await his response. “I’ve never treated you as such, but if you’d like to continue to make ridiculous accusations, I can start. Might I remind you, Gabriella, that you were the one who woke me with a morning blow job then climbed on top and rode me like a wild mustang even after I insisted I didn’t have time. We both know that that’s why I’m running late. It seems only fair that you’d help ensure I don’t miss my flight. Yet here I stand, my luggage not packed and the minutes ticking away.”
My cheeks redden, and anger rises inside me as memories of this morning flood back in. He’s right. I did wake him with my mouth around his cock—not that he’s ever complained about it before. It’d been over a week since we’d shared any intimate contact, and because he is leaving for a month this time, I wanted to feel close to him. To have him hold me, perhaps reassure me that he wasn’t slipping away. That my Adrian was still in there somewhere. And even though he tried to resist for a moment, as soon as he slid inside, I caught a glimpse of him. I saw the pleasure on his face. I know he feels it; feels me. So why does he keep hiding that part of himself from me?
Now, however, he’s retreated, and all that’s left in front of me is a cold, hollow shell of the man I fell in love with.
“Has it become such a chore, Adrian? Sleeping with me? Because, if so, just tell me now. I can find someone else to scratch my itch if it’s too much for you to handle.”
A low growl emits from his throat, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. However, I don’t care. It sickens me to know that I threw myself at him this morning only to find a pair of panties as I dutifully packed his luggage. A wave of nausea washes over me as I wonder if he’s going to meet her, whoever the hell she is.
He catches my attention as he swiftly crosses the room before placing his hands palms down on the island directly across from me. “You will do no such thing,” he forbids, his tone harsh. “Never, ever say that again, Gabriella. No one but me scratches your itch. If I’m unavailable, then you wait.”
My eyes narrow as I scoot back and stand, mimicking his stance. How dare he think he still owns me after what he’s done? Gesturing towards the crotchless, offending, red monstrosity between us, I get his attention, and his eyes widen ever so slightly, as if he’s just now seeing them. Regret flashes in his expression so briefly that I’m not sure if I’m imagining it.
“I can do no such thing? Funny, because I thought you would never either, and yet it appears you already have. I don’t know what’s changed or what happened when you went to visit your father, but I’ve put up with a lot over the last six months. It’s as if a switch has been flipped. You’ve been distant with constant mood swings, and I tried to be understanding. Even when you wouldn’t open up to me, I attempted to make excuses that you had family issues you were dealing with. I can handle a lot, Adrian, but I refuse to stay with an unfaithful man,” I say firmly, my heart racing at a frantic pace as I realize what I mean.
Today really is the day.
And then I meet his eyes, and confusion sets in as the bastard has the audacity to grin. Before me isn’t a man who’s been caught cheating and is on the verge of a breakup. Instead, he’s looking at me as if he’s intrigued—amused, even—and he’s going to humor me.
His eyes flick to the panties and then back to me. “I’ve never seen those before. My, my, you are serious, aren’t you? You know, it’s been said that those who accuse are often the offenders themselves. Is that what’s happening here? Are you so unsatisfied with this lavish life that you’ve—how did you phrase it? Oh yes, find someone to scratch your itch?” he asks, his eyes narrowing as if he actually believes what he’s suggesting. That I’m the villain here.
I reel back as if he’s struck me. In a way, it’s almost worse. I’ve been nothing but faithful, and now that he’s been caught, he wants to accuse me? Is he really turning the tables on me?
“Are you insane?” I hiss. “Those came from your pocket! I’ve done nothing wrong except sit on my ass day in and day out, waiting for you to come to me when you’ve been out there screwing around! You’re the one with some cheap whore’s thong in your luggage. How dare you accuse me!”
He merely shrugs, looking bored and seemingly unaffected by my tirade as he waves a hand in the air as if to brush the entire thing off. “A mix-up at the dry cleaners, then. I apologize for accusing you of anything. I can see how it must appear, but I assure you I’ve done nothing wrong either. You’ve simply just jumped to the wrong conclusions. Now, drop it, Gabrielle. I don’t have time for this.”