God of War: Chapter 20

My attempts to avoid Eli fall apart three days later when I shove the door to his home office open.

I stand there in the entrance, keeping my distance.

During my hiding episodes whenever Eli is in the house, I realized that the main reason for my tormented thoughts and foolish moral code is because I believed the lie that is our marriage.

When, in reality, this is a charade that was agreed upon merely for convenience reasons.

We’re not in a relationship and, therefore, I shouldn’t feel guilty about my supposed cheating episode that I barely recall.

I went around asking the possible suspects at Gemma’s party, but I came up with nothing. Of course, the devil himself interrupted me before I could pop the routine question to V.

Gemma said she had no idea, so I wondered out loud if it could have been Ollie, because I clearly remember his interest from my last year at uni. Gemma mentioned that was impossible since he left for some tropical island a long time ago.

Which struck me as weird, because he gets red as a tomato in the sun and I never thought of him as the type who would indefinitely cut himself off from our gang in the UK.

But anyway, after my husband interrupted my conversation with V, I could’ve texted him. The real reason I haven’t is because a part of me doesn’t want to find out.

That part also believes that despite our lack of feelings for each other, our marriage is based on commitment. My husband is many things, but I’ve never witnessed him giving any other woman his attention. Even when they do everything possible to vie for it.

And that’s part of the reason for my crushing guilt.

Upon my intrusion, Eli looks up from the screen in front of him and I’m struck by how sinfully beautiful the man is.

Control oozes from his set lips and neutral expression down to the rolled cuffs of his shirt stretching around his muscular, veiny forearms.

Something is distinctively out of order, though—his eyes.

They take me in from top to bottom in a blur of heat and a whisper of danger. He observes my pink silk camisole, matching shorts, and fluffy slippers with undivided interest.

The man is a national security hazard trapped in taut muscles and lurking behind a gentleman’s façade.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m the only one who sees him unfiltered like this. Other times, I recall that I hold no importance in his life and quietly put myself back in my place.

His gaze slides back up to my face. I grow hot under his attention, but I refuse to appear bothered, so I stare back, unblinking.

“Does this mark the termination of throwing a tantrum?” he asks with veiled amusement.

“Throwing a tantrum?”

“Wasn’t that the case? You were clearly upset about my impromptu trip to the States and naturally couldn’t move on without throwing your own punches.”

He thinks I’m avoiding him because of that? Well, I suppose anything is better than him finding out the actual reason.

During this time, I’ve been obsessing and trying to find myself loopholes. I remember Anni mentioning we were exclusive. So I asked Cecily if that ‘no-other-people’ agreement was really in place.

My bestie just laughed. “Are you kidding? He didn’t allow other people around you for years. You think he would’ve started after he married you? I’ve never seen him with any other woman, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Only, that was not what worried me.

Though it was a nice confirmation despite my telling Cecily, “As if.”

To which she shook her head and smiled. I’m telling you, she will be so proud of me when I bring this prick down in an epic revenge comeback.

Though I don’t feel like I’m fit for that after what I’ve done.

I cross my arms as if that will hide the hardening of my nipples and choose to ignore his comments. “Sam mentioned you wanted me to get ready for a charity event?”

“Correct.”

“And what makes you believe I’d want to attend?”

“The very simple fact that you’re my wife.”

“And that magically transforms me into a doll you parade around at events?”

“It transforms you into my plus-one. Quit the dramatics.” He goes back to typing away at his laptop, dismissing me entirely.

No, he didn’t.

Plastering a fake smile, I enter his expansive office that reflects its owner’s enigmatic personality. The walls are a deep shade of forest green and dark, worn brown. The leather sofa is large and dull and could use some color and fluffy plushies. The sleek black glass table reflects the light from the window and shares the color of his soul.

I saunter to the bookshelves across from his desk, retrieve a boring book about corporate management, then throw it on the floor.

A few more follow and suffer the same tragic fate before I feel done with my endeavor.

Then I push the coffee table so that it’s not symmetrical, then shove the perfectly placed throw pillows onto the rug.

“What are you doing?” The edge in his voice would scare me if I wasn’t burning in a furnace of pettiness.

“Being dramatic, so when you ask me to quit the dramatics, it’ll be due to something concrete.” I lift a fountain pen cube and then hold it up.

“Don’t.”

I smile sweetly as I let it fall to the ground. It shatters and black ink splatters on the rug, pillows, shelves, and me.

Everywhere.

“Oops,” I say genuinely. I didn’t think it was full of ink.

There go my legs and my fluffy dog slippers. How long does it take to clean ink from the skin?

I fully expect Eli to lunge at me and bite my neck off leopard style. This would be a good time to apologize and say I only meant to tease his OCD tendencies and not yank them out in a barbaric fashion.

“Come here. Now.” He taps the desk twice, his eyes tapering, his voice so eerily calm, it sends a chill through my veins.

“W-why?” I curse myself for the stutter.

“Don’t make me stand up and come get you.”

My legs move of their own accord, a languid feeling settling at the bottom of my stomach.

I stop at the far side of the desk, leaning my back against it for balance more than anything.

His scent seeps into my bones and intoxicates me worse than any alcohol. To avoid looking at him, I pretend to be bored as I study my nails. “So, um, maybe you shouldn’t have kept a full inkpot in your office if you have OCD issues?”

“Shut up, Ava.”

“I’m just offering a useful suggestion.”

“I said.” He stands up threateningly and presses his hands on either side of me on the desk surface, then slowly lowers himself so that his face is level with mine. I cease breathing when his lips skim my ear. “Shut that fucking mouth before I fill it with something that’s guaranteed to keep it occupied.”

My held breath comes out in a strangled pant. His lips burn my skin, but it’s no worse than the volcano that is his words, because why the hell do I feel thirsty all of a sudden?

“You’re easier on the eyes when you behave, Mrs. King.” He still speaks in my ear, as if injecting sweet poison into my veins. “So how about you be a good girl, change into a decent dress, and meet me downstairs?”

His warm lips leave my ear, but he doesn’t budge. His nearness and intimidating presence sear into me like a cigarette against paper. It’s hopeless to deny my desire for his touch when every inch of my body aches for it.

I’m wet just due to the vibrations of his deep, rough voice.

It’s ridiculous at this point.

“Or what?” I hear myself whisper as I steal a glance at him, then regret it immediately.

His gaze darkens to a sinful gray as he gathers both my wrists in one hand, holds them hostage at my back, and drops his other hand to my waist.

“Or…” His large palm slides up, squeezing my breast through the flimsy camisole, and my nipples harden under his touch as he lets his hand trail down, grabs my arse, and shoves me against him. “I’ll punish you, Mrs. King.”

A shaky whimper leaves me as his unmistakable hardness settles against the bottom of my stomach.

“How will you do that?” I murmur.

“Don’t play with fire.”

“Maybe I’m craving the burn.”

“Fuck, Ava.” He releases me and steps back slowly, almost as if he doesn’t want to. “Go get ready before I do something I can’t undo.”

The sizzling print of his skin on mine still burns, heat coils damp and warm between my legs, but I refuse to surrender to the whips of rejection.

Again.

What a fool.

I came here intent on giving him a piece of my mind and retreating, but I ended up like a mouse between the cat’s claws.

And I would’ve let him go further if he’d so much as kissed me.

Obviously, my pride packed up and left the building at some point.

I cross my arms over my chest. His eyes zoom in on my cleavage, and I will myself to breathe properly.

“If you want me to come with you, I have conditions.”

His brows rise as he focuses back on my face. “Conditions. Plural?”

“Two, actually.”

“And what makes you think you can dish out conditions?”

“A small fact called being your wife,” I throw his words back at him with a sweet smile.

“I don’t see the correlation.”

“You have to treat me like a queen, duh, and that means making me happy. Complying with my conditions makes me happy. As the saying goes, happy wife, happy life.”

He narrows his eyes and I can tell he’s so done with my shit and is losing patience faster than his receding morals. “Carry on. Let’s hear the conditions.”

“One, if you want me to go to a cocktail party or event or whatever, you have to give me ample time to prepare and ask me first.”

“You have an hour to prepare and I already had Sam ask you.”

“She didn’t ask me, she carried out your order. So it’s time for you to rectify that.”

“And how am I to do that?”

“Simple. Ask me.”

I know Eli is used to having his orders met. He single-handedly made our friend group, Cecy included, scared of his wrath because he ordered them that if I strayed off the crystal—also spelled boring—path he’d drawn for me, they’d regret it.

The only rebel is Lan, and Eli always makes him pay for it, whether by revealing his questionable actions to his parents, smashing a few of his precious statues (did it three times, one of them was prior to an important competition), or simply broadcasting his weaknesses to Mia after they became an item.

Eli is cold, merciless, and, above all, persistent. If he delivers a threat, he’ll act on it.

And he doesn’t, under any circumstances, take orders or compromise on things that don’t benefit him. If you see him compromising, it’s because he already has the upper hand and methodically planned out the situation to play in his favor.

So I fully expect the rearing of his monster horns and harden myself to stand my ground. This is the hill I choose to die on, thank you very much.

“Will you be my plus-one for the charity event, Mrs. King?”

My lips part. “You…asked.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” He sounds fully exasperated and on the verge of pulling away.

“Yeah, um. I will honor you with my presence.”

“I couldn’t be more thrilled,” he says with a complete poker face. “What’s the second condition?”

This one is tricky, but here goes nothing. I push my shoulders back. “You’ll spend time with me.”

“I am currently spending time with you.”

“I don’t mean like this.”

“Then?”

“Like I asked you that night.”

“I am not going to court you, Ava.”

“Then don’t. It’s not the Middle Ages anyway. But you must spend time with me.”

“Doing what exactly?”

“I don’t know. Talking?”

“Is that another word for fighting?”

“Reading books?”

“We don’t read the same books. Besides, do you expect me to sit there and watch you vandalize precious paperbacks?”

“I’m highlighting passages that stand out to me. No vandalizing happens. But you’re right, we’ll need to call the ambulance for your issues if you witness that for an extended period of time. Besides, no offense, but your taste in books sucks. How about we watch films?”

“I don’t watch films.”

“Who doesn’t watch films?”

“And who does for half a day every day?”

I shrug. “I’ll think of something, but you must promise to dedicate time, and I don’t mean after hours when you’re done being Machiavelli. I mean a proper afternoon.”

So that was me shooting for the moon, but, hey, doesn’t hurt to try. The guilt of cheating on him might not stop eating me from the inside, especially since I have no idea who the man was, but the only way to move past it is to dedicate myself to the here and now.

I should be as faithful as he is. Even if we’re fake.

And then I’ll break his heart. Well, maybe spirit, since he doesn’t have a heart.

Eli watches me for a beat and I try my hardest not to crack under the pressure and compromise.

To my utter astonishment, he nods.

“Really?” I ask in bewilderment. “You won’t change your mind?”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

“Nooo!” I jump him, my arms wrapping around his neck. My feet lift off the ground because he’s too damn tall.

He plants a hand on my waist, swaying back a step at my sudden attack.

It isn’t until his scent saturates my nostrils that I realize I’m hugging Eli.

Shit.

I fall back to the floor as naturally as humanly possible before I bolt to the door.

“I’ll see you in an hour!” I say with unabashed excitement, and I catch the most peculiar view in my peripheral vision.

Eli’s smiling, but it’s hauntingly…sad.

So when my husband mentioned putting on a decent dress, he didn’t specify the color, cut, or tightness level.

I gracefully descend the stairs, my feet lightly tapping against each step as I make my way down in a flowing maxi dress. The deep-red chiffon fabric drapes off my shoulders, exposing just a hint of my cleavage when standing up, but it will reveal half my breasts if I bend.

He doesn’t know that, though.

As I move, the high slit of the dress shows off my slender leg, accentuated by the stunning golden studded shoes that adorn my feet. My matching clutch bag dangles from my fingers while long red-and-gold earrings sway with every step, complementing the intricate design of my necklace.

I swept my hair into an elegant twist, leaving a few wispy strands to frame my face. A bold shade of red paints my lips, completing the glamorous look I’ve carefully put together.

While I felt beautiful when I looked in the mirror, none of that compares to the flashes of warmth that sizzle through me as Eli freezes upon seeing me.

He looks sharp and maddeningly masculine in a tailored tuxedo, black bowtie, and studded cufflinks that match my—and, apparently, his—favorite watch.

The trimmed sides of his hair are precisely groomed, while the longer top is styled to perfection, highlighting his rough and raw features.

His jaw clenches as he watches me while absentmindedly rolling his wedding band around his finger.

Savage energy radiates from him, drawing me closer despite my better judgment. Tension grows stronger between us as his piercing gaze roams over my face, lingering on my breasts and legs with a hunger that sends my senses alight. It’s as if his hands are shoving the dress off of me, caressing me roughly, manhandling me, taking me.

For a moment, I forget how to walk properly and I remind myself to do it one step at a time.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I keep my distance, afraid I’ll catch fire if I get too close.

“No need to scowl.” I try to lighten the mood with my joyful energy. “I was only twenty minutes late. That’s, like, a record.”

“You’ll change immediately.”

“But why?” I stare down at myself. “I’m perfectly decent.”

“You’re perfectly tempting.”

I swallow past the dryness in my throat. “I’m not changing. It took me a long time to get ready and feel beautiful. You won’t take that away.”

“Ava…”

“Either I go like this or I don’t go at all.”

“Don’t go at all.”

I release an exasperated sound. “Nope. I’m going. I didn’t get ready for nothing.”

Before he can lock me up in my ivory tower, I breeze past him to the door, where Leo is waiting.

He opens the car door, dutifully not looking at me, probably because his boss would sack him faster than he could blink.

“At least remove the lipstick,” Eli says as soon as he slips into the back seat beside me.

I pout. “But it’s part of the outfit.”

“Remove it, Ava.”

“Nuh-uh.” I blow him a kiss in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Relax, darling, it’s only lipstick⁠—”

The words aren’t completely out of my mouth when his hand wraps around my throat, killing any protest.

His face is so close, I can taste the mint off his breath. “Don’t fuck with me, Ava. I do not appreciate sharing my things with others, am I clear?”

A tremor of fear and something unashamedly sexual course through me. He really will give me hell if he finds out about the cheating, won’t he?

I attempt to pull back, but he grabs a fistful of my hair until his lips brush mine with every word. “Am I fucking clear?”

I nod, merely so he’ll release me.

“Use your voice.”

“Yeah, fine.” My lips stroke his with the words and a rush of heat pools between my thighs.

The car moves and Eli does release me, then lounges back in his seat like a monarch. I give him the stink eye as I retrieve my mirror and start to salvage my hair.

“It took me half an hour to do this,” I grumble.

“And only seconds to ruin,” he shoots back with that dreadful sadism. This man is a hard nut to crack. I honestly have no clue what makes him tick aside from OCD tendencies.

He’s as opaque as a muddy pond ravaged by a downpour.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror and gasp. “Eli!”

“Yes?”

“You left finger marks on my neck.”

“Good.” He stares at his handiwork. “That way everyone will know who the fuck you belong to.”

Frustration bubbles in my veins and I express it by kicking his feet and spending the entirety of the ride powdering the hell out of my neck and somewhat managing to fix my hair.

When we reach the venue, I’m hit with the beautiful smell of sage that the organizers have picked for the event. A charity for protecting endangered trees and the planet.

The grand hall seems to stretch on for miles, large enough to hold multiple events at once. However, on this particular evening, it’s filled to the brim with influential and self-important individuals, all dressed in elegant tuxedos and sparkling cocktail dresses. Among them, a handful of celebrities sign autographs on cards and even body parts.

In the background, a quartet plays a sophisticated arrangement of pop songs in classical compositions, filling the air with enchanting melodies. Waiters glide through the crowd in their smart uniforms, expertly balancing trays of drinks while guests indulge in the opulent buffet spread out before them.

The atmosphere is one of luxury and extravagance, a true feast for all senses that seems to bore my husband to death.

I walk in with my arm draped through his and a blinding smile on my face. I say hi to all my acquaintances and even people I don’t recognize when they greet me.

Eli’s face remains stone-cold like the grinch he is. Honestly, he should be thankful I’m offering my social skills to balance his lack of diplomacy.

As we’re stopped by some of his acquaintances, he disentangles his arm from mine and drops it to my waist, his palm covering my hip and sensually stroking the dress.

Although a whole piece of clothing separates his skin from mine, it’s no different than if he were wedging his tongue inside me.

I blink away the erotic image of him doing just that the last time he touched me and focus on the conversation. He’s speaking to a business partner, a tall black man with salt-and-pepper hair who’s probably in his late forties. He looks both elegant and easygoing, his broad smile instantly inviting.

“Meet my wife, Matthew,” Eli says. “Ava King.”

“How do you do?” Mathew grabs my hand, but before he can bow down and kiss it like a gentleman, Eli swiftly pulls it away.

“I told you to meet her, not to touch her,” he says with calm collectiveness.

Before I can reprimand him, Matthew bursts out laughing and then raises his glass. “I better go find my wife before this one here starts a riot. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. King, and I wish you the best of luck. You’ll need it.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” I smile and wave.

As he walks away, Eli faces me as he grabs a glass of water from a passing waiter. “Stop smiling so much.”

“Stop being a dick. I’m trying to be nice since you’re obviously not.”

“I’m not, huh?”

“Hello? Have you seen your face in the mirror lately? It could be effectively used to scare children so they’ll behave.”

His lips tip up in an amused smile, but before I can bask in that, Leo walks in silently and whispers something in his boss’s ear.

When he retreats, Eli looks at me. “I need to check on some business associates. Will you be fine on your own for a while?”

“Sure.”

“Behave, Mrs. King.” He leans in and brushes his lips to my cheek.

As he walks away, I can feel them getting as red as my outfit.

Talk about teasing.

I mingle with some acquaintances and manage to refuse every alcohol offer. It’s easier to settle with water and some mocktails now.

As I’m standing with a group of musicians, insanely jealous of their accomplishments and thinking of a way to escape the line of questioning about competitions, a familiar face strides toward me.

I excuse myself and walk to Vance. “Oh, hey, what a lovely surprise to see you here, V.”

“I should be saying that. You look absolutely ravishing, Ava.”

“Don’t let my husband hear you say that.” I laugh.

“Then he should appreciate what he has, don’t you think?” The suggestive tone in his words doesn’t escape me.

Oh God.

Is it him?

I fooled around with V in school, mostly out of spite, and he’s a true charmer, nice, understanding, and really gentle.

He’s the exact opposite of my husband, and although I’ve never thought of myself as the type who cheats, I can see why Vance would fit the profile of a man I’d choose for an affair.

“Hey, V.” I step closer so no one overhears. “As you know, I forgot some events the past couple of years.”

“Yes, you mentioned that the other time.”

“Did something happen that I should be aware of?”

“I’m surprised it took you so long to ask.” His blue eyes brighten up. “I knew you wouldn’t forget everything.”

I think I’m going to be sick.

His head slides close to mine, but before he can say anything, he’s shoved away and then punched so hard, he hits the buffet table and plunges into the extravagant food. Blood explodes from his nose in a shock of red instantly covers his face.

Did…Eli just break V’s nose?

A collective gasp from the attendees echoes in the air as my husband stares at his handiwork with savage eyes. “I warned you, but you didn’t listen.”

Gemma grabs onto Eli’s arm. “It’s okay…”

He pushes her away before I can think about her presence beside him, grabs my arm, and drags me behind him.

“Eli, wait…” I literally jog in freaking heels to keep up with his wide strides.

“I’m done waiting.” He shoves me into a supply room, jams the door closed, and presses my back against the wall.

“Don’t you think you went overboard⁠—”

My words are cut off when his angry words roll off me. “Is he the fucker you cheated on me with?”