Elissa was a little surprised.
<b>Chapter </b><b>136 </b>
In the past<b>, </b>she probably would have looked ttered, grateful for any olive branch, and epted it right away.
But now, standing in front of Frank, even pretending felt exhausting. “Frank, do you really think that just because you cooked a meal, I should let everything go? That I shouldn’t care anymore about what Marcia did to set me up the other day?”
She was certain that’s exactly what Frank thought.
He’d already bent over backwards–quite literally, for someone as proud as him. Wasn’t that enough? Of course, he expected her to be sensible and just drop it.
Frank’s hand stilled mid–motion. At first he wanted to protest, but then realized–deep down, that was exactly what he’d been thinking.
But he didn’t see anything wrong with that.
He lowered his gaze, voice gentle. “If you’d really been hurt that day, I would have stood by you. But nothing happened, right? What do you want me to do about Marcia? She just acted on impulse.”
“That doesn’t count as harm?”
Elissa rolled up her sleeve, revealing a nasty bruise on her arm. Herugh was cold. “Or do you think I’d have to actually get raped before you consider it real damage?”
Her clear eyes were fixed on Frank, unblinking.
Frank couldn’t meet her gaze. His eyes flicked to the bruise. “Why didn’t you tell me about this at the hotel?”
“You never asked.”
Elissa’s patience snapped. Her voice was icy as she pressed him: “Did you ever ask me?”
<b>10:43 </b>
Capiti 130
“…I’m sorry.”
“That’s enough.”
Elissa didn’t want to argue anymore. She motioned toward the door, dismissing him. “I have things to do. You should go.”
With that, she turned the key and slipped inside, nning to drop off the painting and leave.
But before she could get far, she felt Frank’s shadow behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, his voice soft, almost coaxing. “Come on, Elissa. Marcia’s already packing her things to move out.”
“Once she’s gone, you cane home.”
Elissa froze, a chill running down her spine. She wrenched herself free, her tone crisp and cold. “Mr. Atwater, are you still not getting it?”
“I’m not moving back in. Whatever happens between you and Marcia is none of my business.”
“If you need me to y the dutiful wife for the cameras, I’ll do it. If another tabloid catches you two together, I’ll help clear things up, as always.”
“But please, don’t interfere in my life anymore. Alright?”
Frank’s brow furrowed.
How was this any different from all those fake marriages in their social circle, where everyone just kept up appearances?
Since when did Elissa start thinking this way?
He didn’t even pause before objecting. “Elissa, I never-”
Halfway through, his phone rang.
He nced at the caller ID, then stepped outside to take it. When he returned, his expression was apologetic. “Bradley needs me for something urgent. I can’t cook tonight. Maybe another day—”
10:43
“No need.”
Elissa cut him off immediately. “You should go. The elevator’s about to
leave.”
Frank felt a pang of anxiety. “Don’t be mad, okay? I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear what you said earlier.”
“Fine. I’m not mad,” Elissa said, barely bothering to hide her indifference.
What did it matter whether he heard her or not? Soon enough, by the time spring rolled around, not even the pretense of their marriage would remain.
Frank left the building and headed for his car.
Suddenly, a sharp car horn sounded nearby.
Frank turned his head and spotted Rowan sitting in the back of a Bentley.
Thest time they’d met–in that hotel–they’d left things tense over Elissa. But business was business; they couldn’t avoid each other forever. Frank walked over.
“What are you doing here?”
Rowan grinned, casual as ever. “Waiting for someone.”
As one man to another, Frank immediately caught the nuance in his tone and smirked. “Waiting for your girlfriend?”
<b>3/3 </b>