"Love is an ideal thing, marriage a real thing." — Wolfgang Geothe

( Unedited )

Angelik's POV

I realized I had left my phone on the table. I quickly detoured and strode back towards the kitchen. I scowled when I caught Max staring at my phone like the damn thing had offended him gravely.

"What are you doing?" I grit out as I closed our gap and snatched my phone from his big palm.

He frowned.

"A certain Jo just called," he blinked, staring hard at me as he explained why my phone was in his hand. "He canceled when I was about to answer," he explained further, then looked away, and I caught him wincing as he had just tasted some lemon.

I ignored his weird reaction as my mind wrapped around the thought that he mistook Josephine for a man.

We called her Jo.

She's one of the cardiac nurses, and I get along well with her and Olivia or Livvy.

"So you weren't joking when you said you're taking a lover too?" he demanded, his lips shut into a thin, grim line.

His eyes, sharp and accusing, trained on my eyes. His jaws clamped tight, and I could feel the jealousy swirling, radiating off him, and I wanted to laugh, but damn, it's so fun watching him green-eyed over a Jo.

I schooled my face into neutral, not wanting to end this fun.

"And you're quite fast, too!" Max snipped.

I'd like to just laugh it out at some point, but then I remembered he didn't come home last night.

"Jo had been a friend of mine," I stressed out, forcing my face to stay poker as I met his frosty glare and bit the laughter down that's bubbling up, threatening to ruin the fun, "and he's nice. Lovely, love—"

"I don't care if he's lovely! You are not going to talk to that man!" He interjected in a tone brooking no argument. His face mottled with crimson, his eyes sharp and intimidating.

He was incensed.

"Why not?" I asked, faking a sharp tone I could muster, feigning anger.

Oh boy! I had to force myself to stop.

His demeanor turned thunderous.

His dark eyes perused my face, the sincerity in my eyes, and I squirmed inwardly.

I had to keep my face just as angry as his. I know I'm pushing his limits, but maybe, he'll crack and admit that he felt the same way as I am.

"Was he good in bed?" he growled darkly. In a slow, languid but unveiled threat of steps as he came closer and halted after a few inches away.

He loomed over me, and I had to crane my neck and meet his dark, thunderous gaze. He looked even more sinful, more maddeningly irresistible.

His scent assailed me and curled around me like a cloak of sandalwood with spice, and his natural male aroma, a hint of musk and earthy. It sent my mind spiraling, and in a few seconds, my mind was blank.

My mind lingered on how much his scent could disrupt my momentum.

I wanted to cry, and I wanted to wallop him hard. I want to vent out to him all these pent-up frustrations and anger.

And at the same time, I want to pull him onto the table and have my way with him.

I unconsciously chuckled at the thought. It would be funny seeing him laid on the table, and I'll feast on his broad, delectable ripped chest.

"Is he?" Max's rich, deep, and thunderous voice with an edge of strain cut through my silly thought, and my eyes ripped out of his chest and met his frosty gaze.

"Does he make you scream?" he added as he gritted his teeth.

I glowered at him.

He's foolish!

And the thought of him spending the night somewhere made my blood boil.

Was it too detestable sleeping on the same roof as me?

"Jo is a friend. And yes, he makes me scream when he's foolish," I snapped, thinking when we were at the bar, and Josephine decided to do the foolish thing cause she's drunk. She walked up to the man who had been eyeing her since we sat on the bar. I had to scream at her name to come back. I had to yell at her name so she could hear me over the loud, blasting music.

"And he's good—"

The words muffled in my mouth as Max crushed my lips with his in a punishing kiss.

I was about to push him away when his kisses softened. I felt his long, powerful hands curled around my waist, and he pulled me against his chest.

A soft moan left my lips, and I melted into his arms.

He explored my mouth, nibbled my bottom lips, sucked, and hungrily devoured my lips.

That familiar aching sensation settled between my legs. Tiny electric charges zipped through my veins as I clung to him, needy and pliant.

"I missed you. I missed possessing you until all you can think of is me. Me alone!"

The last words suddenly snuffed off the passion fire that he had stoked inside my body with just his devastating kiss.

I pulled away, and he didn't object, releasing me as he grunted softly.

I pulled down my shirt and fixed my hair. I didn't realize he managed to do these things without my notice.

Max can certainly blur my mind, and I couldn't believe I just gave in.

It will be the last.

I will not allow happening again. Not until he will admit that he loves me, wants me, and wants me to be his wife.

I clamped my jaws, staring at him gravely.

"You don't want this marriage, then I don't have anything to do with you," I stated in a clipped tone.

His face was devoid of emotion as he shook his head. 

I wanted to spit out the word. 

Divorce.

If he doesn't want anything to do with this marriage, nor do I.

But then, my parents drifted into my mind—the very reason I was thrown into this marriage. And my brother Xandrous warned me to be cautious with dad. He's not well as he'd like us to believe.

Am I too selfish to leave the weight of the consequences of my actions?

Can I bear it? Can I live through it, seeing their envious faces when reunited with their friends? The shame or embarrassment when they are around everyone they care about.

Can I take it, if Xandrous was right, dad is not well, and he'd die because of me?

My heart  was heavy just thinking about it. Again, the tears pooled under my eyelids, threatening to peek through.

I blinked them back hard. 

I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me at my weakest state.

I leveled Max a hard stare. "You cannot kiss me whenever you like until we get to an agreement,"  forcing out a tone that could match a knife, hard and sharp, I demanded, and he raised an eyebrow.

He shot me a death stare that made my blood boil. A look that silently sent me his grave disapproval. A gaze telling me quietly that he's not one to be bossed around or ordered around.

The audacity of him! 

He wants me to obey him like a proper wife? And here he is, an inconsiderate cad.

At least do the right thing, the sensible thing. Let me know if he is to spend his night somewhere so that I don't have to worry too much.

I passed out last night waiting for him. And that pissed me off. I wasted my time waiting, thinking the worst happened to him, regretting provoking him.

I thought something happened to him on the road, knowing he left fuming.

I gritted my teeth. I swallowed hard, blocking my head with all the unwanted feelings that were starting to consume me.

Did he sleep with another woman last night?

The thought, however, I want to cast it out of my head, still bothered me. It haunted me every second, and it is damning.

I quickly erased the thought— forcibly blocking it out, but my mouth seemed to have its mind.

"Isn't that unfair?" he said sarcastically. 

It is unfair! I wanted to yell. 

It is unfair that he's unaffected as much as I am. 

He's acting like he is, but then I know it was his ego that was touched.

His loud indignant grunt triggered my temper. His tone didn't sit well with me.

I snapped. 

"So you can just kiss me and do whatever you want with me? But you can't even do the honorable thing, even if it's just faking it. You can't even text me, call me, or drop a message in my email that my husband will spend his night somewhere!" I spewed out. 

Rage blurred my sanity.

He shook his head, his face hardened.

"You said I can live like a bachelor?" he reminded me drily, his tone dripped with sarcasm, which set my temper to the roof.

My hands flailing in fury as I narrowed my eyes at him, my tone rose sharply.

"Then, live like a bachelor! Think like a bachelor, and you GODDAMN NO CONTROL OVER ME! You're on your own as I am!" I gritted out, yelling and sounding like a lost soul.

I didn't care if I lost my dignity. I didn't care if I acted like a brat because screaming at his face felt good.

I didn't even realize I was shaking. I turned around with one last scathing look and left him with an overwhelming rage coursing through my veins.

I paced back and forth in my room, talking to myself like a lunatic. My hand shot up to my belly and rubbed it involuntarily to ease that knot.

I dropped myself on the bed, stared at the ceiling with my mind refusing to give this farce of a marriage a chance, and at the same, battling to set myself free. Leave far away, away from Max, even if it hurt like hell.

I lifted my phone that I was still clutching like my life depended on it. Stared at the screen, and thought of calling Jo back. 

Jo is off, and her boyfriend is in town.

Lisa is off today, too. Maybe we can hang out at the bar.

"Hey, I was trying to call you," Jo started as soon as the line connected.

"Sorry, I left my phone on the table," I explained. "The call ended when I returned to retrieve it," I supplied.

"Funny, you ended it. Just say if you're busy, Angel," Jo playfully chastised, and I frowned.

"I promise I didn't end the call," I said defensively, and Jo shrugged it off.

"Nevermind," she chuckled. "I talked to Lisa, and she agreed to a girl's night out. It's been a while since we went out, the three of us. Finally, Lisa's sister is in town, and she offered to watch her kids," Josephine excitedly muttered, and I smiled.

Just perfect.

"That's awesome, Jo. Of course! I'll come! I missed you," I said, thinking I hadn't seen her for a while. She's on her vacation, and these past days, we were with a different team.

She's with the morning team, and I'm with the afternoon with Lisa.

Moments later, a soft rapped on the door broke into my thoughts.

"Go away," I said weakly. 

A silence took over, I thought he was gone, but then he spoke.

"The food arrived," he said in a gentle, soothing tone, and so rich and deep. And my body warmed up as it reached my ears. It's like a warm breeze that ran over my skin and seeped into my veins, and it spread out all over my body deliciously.

"I'm not eating until you join me," he said behind the door, his tone still soft and endearing.

I rolled my eyes.

These days, he's hot, and then he's cold.

My belly growled, and I groaned.

I am famished.

And even though I'm angry at him, I can't deny the food. I needed it.

Aggrieved, I acquiescently pulled myself out of bed and headed towards the door, leaving my phone on the bed.

Max was staring at me when I opened the door. He was blocking the doorway, so I stood face to face with him.

I raised an eyebrow.

His eyes intensely trained on me, and I knew that look. A hungry look that made my insides melt into puddles.

A look like he wanted to possess me, to brand me. And at the same time, he looked at me in reverent worship.

The time had stopped, and I stared back at him. Wishing the circumstances were disparate.

What was the reason that he was so appalled with marriage?

Yet, I can feel that he wanted me as badly as I wanted him. I can see that he cared for me more than he realized, how his eyes raked my face with longing, with fervent adoration.

What's holding him back?

He lifted his hand and ran his palm along my right cheek. The warmth of his palm seeped through my skin, and it felt so good. My eyes briefly shut, and everything seemed to disperse, and all that mattered was us. 

He filled my mind with thoughts of him doing delicious things with me.

Max tenderly touched my face. His breathings fused to mine, the air crackled with sensual tension, and her anticipation heightened.

His thumb caressed my jawline, and when my eyes snapped open, his lips were hovering over my lips. His hot breath, a scent of coffee mixed with mint, his toothpaste, and his natural breath tickled my nose.

His eyes held mine captive, waiting.

I waited too for his lips to land, realizing he was waiting for a signal, giving me time to recoil.

When I didn't react, his lips descended closer until they brushed lightly against mine, and just then, my belly decided to get our attention.

A loud growling sound came from me, and the spell broke.

And the truth snapped back at me.

Max chuckled as he pulled his head back, and I straightened myself,

"The food is getting cold," he said, and I nodded my head in response.

I'm afraid the sound that may come out of my mouth is either a croak or a moan.

We came down in silence. The food's aroma didn't change my mood, no matter how delectable its smell.

We ate in silence, his appetite seemed unaffected, and after a few bites, I toyed with the chicken pieces on my plate.

My mind was still circling about the thoughts, the doubts, the questions.

What's holding him back? What made him rebuke the idea of marriage?

I looked up, and then I caught him watching me intently. I just he was done eating.

How long has he been watching me?

I let out a deep sigh.

"Spill it," Max drawled, dropping his back against the chair support.

He knows me well, yet he's too dumb to read how I felt about his refusal of our new disposition.

"Why do you seem so against marriage?" I spewed out, dropping the fork on my plate and leaning my back against the chair's back support.

He shook his head.

"I'm not against marriage," he replied firmly. "I don't want to disappoint you if we marry early. You know I'm just starting to enjoy my passion in life," he mused, then looked away.

I know there's more to it than he wanted to share.

"I'm not going to be on your way, Max. You know that?" I gritted my teeth.

I thought I broke into the wall that he created around him. I thought I knew a lot about him, but I was wrong.

I know nothing about him, his private life, his past.

Max got up before I could say some more, and obviously, he's avoiding any more topics.

I glowered at his retreating back.

I let out a sigh and swallowed down the tears that were building up.

I cleared the table, forcing myself to forget what just happened, and tried to cheer myself by thinking about the bar hopping tonight.

Maybe I could find someone to divert my attention, even just for the night.

But the thought of someone touching me other than Max made my insides curl in repulsion.

I sighed.

I went back to my room and took my laptop. I decided to kill my time reading about Cardiac patients and things related to my job.

I felt stifled in my room, so I decided to hang out in the living room. I like the tall ceilings, it feels airy, and I can breathe better than in my room.

I met Max on my way down, and he just looked at me, and I just noticed he had just gotten out of the shower, with only his boxer and white shirt. His hair was damped and tousled, he looked devastatingly gorgeous, and I swallowed hard.

He's prohibited, I reminded myself.

I clutched the laptop against my chest, trying to stop my heart from beating rapidly or at least slow it down, to no avail.

I frowned when the realization hit me.

Is he leaving again?

Anger rose inside of me, slowly consuming me.

I rushed down to the living room without a word, not wanting him to witness how much he affected me.

I'm boiling with rage, that's for sure.

I plopped down on the sofa, dropped my laptop next to me, and then dropped my back against the backrest.

I grabbed my laptop and tried to read. I forced myself to concentrate on the text, but the words and letters just danced over my eyes. Max's sinful face and body teased me, and it annoyed me.

I slummed my eyes shut and tried to calm my temper, pulling the laptop off my lap and placing it next to me.

I don't know how long I was in that position when I heard his deep, rich voice that never failed to make my belly curl deliciously.

Note: This part was in the teaser.

"I'm leaving," Max said, causing me to snap my eyes open.

He's already dressed in a baby blue dress shirt and gray Armani trousers. "Don't wait for me tonight." As he shrugged his coat on that matched the color of his pants, heading to the door.

Anger consumed me, and I willed myself not to shout at him, vent out my anger upon him. I won't let him see me affected by his indifference.

I tore my eyes away from him and folded shut the laptop before pulling myself up from the sofa and briefly looking back at him.

"I'm leaving tonight, too," I stated flatly, then turned on my back and headed to the kitchen to get some water.

I suddenly felt thirsty.

"Where are you going?" he asked, causing me to stop.

I turned slowly and met his cold gaze. "To meet a friend," I answered flatly.

A crease wedged in between his bushy brows. "He or she?" he probed, his tone hardening.

I raise a brow at him. "Why do you care?" I retorted, my tone held so much apathy.

He didn't care much about me the whole time we were married. He didn't care about my feelings. He didn't care to tell me where he was or why he's abhorrent to this damn piece of paper that bound us!

His handsome face crumpled in frustration or disappointment.

I didn't look away nor blink. My face is as flat as his abs.

I hate those six-pack abs.

"I am your husband, dear wife," he stressed, causing me to raise my eyebrow.

Husband?

The fire of fury consumed me. My hand clutched the laptop on my side tightly.

My face was disgruntled upon hearing the underlying mockery in his flat tone. I leveled him a venomous glare. "Now, I am your wife!" I ground out, clenching my teeth tightly.

He was so opposed to it, to this marriage.

"You made sure of that," he shot back. "We were married now, didn't we?" he chuckled, devoid of humor.

My face hardened.

All sanity left me once those hateful comments left his lips. My vision blurred with rage, hot and burning within me.

"And I will make sure that we're divorced by the end of the month!" I spat grimly.

Without waiting for his response, I turned my back on him.

Screw him!

......