My Husband Is Gay

Chapter 8

As Xavier gazed at her and she longed to know what went on in his head. He was at it again. He was trapping her with his gaze. She felt powerless as she gaped back into those green eyes that couldn't be unraveled.

The way he stayed silent drove her insane. The situation soon changed from a usual quietness to an uneasy one. She looked down at the floor, her sight drawn away from his scorching glare.

"Meet me downstairs," he instructed coldly, turning to leave, but he suddenly stopped "and also, next time you feel crazy, shut the door. Some actions are painful to watch," he said with his back still turned against her.

She bit her lips nervously waiting for him to leave, so she could bang her head against the wall or something to punish herself for her foolishness.

The time finally came, he left the room, and she abruptly grabbed a pillow that lay on the bed, screamed into it, taking her anger out on it. She ran her hands through her hair, messing it up.

*So much for giving off a good impression,* she thought inwardly. Banging her head against the wall wasn't such a bad idea. At least that way, she would never forget how much of a fool she made herself in front of a man she wanted to prove a point to. How stupid could she have been?

Amelia groaned in frustration and slipped out of the bed. He sent for her, and there was no way she could run from what she did. Going over to him and pretending nothing happened could be a good start.

*It wasn't a crime to bounce on a king-sized bed,* her inner self whispered to her. She nodded in agreement. Perhaps she could still pull off a good third impression if she adopted the method of ignorance.

On getting to the door, she held the doorknob, breathing out sharply from her mouth. She twisted the door handle and stepped out, greeted by the grey aestheticized hallway. She walked through the hallway as quietly as possible. Her steps were wobbly out of nervousness. It made her wonder why she acted so anxious when it was something she rarely felt.

He was the cause. One look at those green dazzling eyes and she would lose her ability to think clearly. It made her slightly wonder how a man could exhibit such power over her.

Adapting her previous mechanism was the only way she could make a better presence. It would hopefully make up for the embarrassment she put herself through.

Lifting her head and squaring her shoulders, she walked with confidence as she approached the stairs. She frowned abruptly when she thought of taking the torture machine again.

The elevator stood there, tempting her, but she didn't fall for it. She had already caused a lot of trouble and didn't want her clumsy self dragging his attention or, worst still, breaking something. Sighing shallowly, she turned back to look at the stair and began walking downward.

There he was, seated comfortably on one of the biggest couches in the sitting room with his eyes transfixed on his phone. Amelia also noticed the contract documents laying beside him. As she stood there for a while, he failed to notice her presence.

"Ahem" she cleared her throat. He didn't look at her immediately, but he eventually did after about some seconds.

"Sit" he instructed and resumed with his phone, giving her little acknowledgment. That made a little part of her boil in fury. Locating a comfortable couch not far from him, she sat down with a frown not leaving her face.

While seated, she peeked through the opened curtains and caught sight of the evening sky. It was surprising how much time had passed on such short notice. Well, with the proper lighting of the house alongside highly positioned windows, it was hard to tell if it was day or night.