Jealous? 1

IMOGEN'S POV

Tense silence followed after my cruel sentence.

I stared at him, expecting an outburst. But he was surprisingly chill. At least he was good at acting like it didn't bother him one bit.

We both were as still as stone pieces, waiting for someone to speak away the petrification.

When I had had enough, I broke my silence the only way I knew how.

"I'll cook dinner tonight," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Tell Maggie not to worry about it."

"It's Maggie's job. It's one of the reasons why she was hired."

I turned to face him, making sure his sights didn't miss the emerald necklace dangling between my bosoms.

"I know being a housewife was a paramount requirement for me to be your wife. But considering I am doing none of my duties and you are doing none of yours, I will simply get bored of life. Allow me to do this at least."

In truth, one of the reasons I wanted to cook was because of how sick I had become of eating 'fancy' food. Before marrying Elijah, I could stand forcing stuff I didn't like into my mouth and swallowing because I knew there would be an opportunity to eat something I understood when I got home. I wouldn't have a problem with the texture or sophisticated taste of the food.

But for two days now, I had to manage food with odd textures and others that needed an acquired taste to enjoy.

My stomach churned just imagining having to go through that hell again.

Elijah nodded in agreement. "Do what the fuck makes you happy."

Then he turned and left the room.

As soon as he shut the door behind him, I quickly moved across the floor, my feet carrying me to the door.

I reached out with a trembling hand and slid the lock into place. Only then did I allow myself to slide down until I was sitting with my back against the hard wooden surface.

A long, shaky breath escaped my lips - one I felt like I had been holding for an eternity.

The pounding in my chest turned loud, so loud that it was all I could hear. I looked at my bed and the stuff that my husband had rummaged with both his hands and his eyes. My bag was right there. If he had been curious enough, he would have found out I met up with his brother.

It would have all gone to hell then. I chuckled dryly, brushing my hair backward with my hands. It was better I memorized the damn thing and tossed it elsewhere. Hiding would be another great alternative, but I didn't trust Elijah not to turn the place upside down when I wasn't around.

With a sigh, I pushed myself up and approached the bed.

Digging into my bag, I found the slick business card.

I clutched it tightly as I proceeded to sit on the bed, staring at the telephone seated on top of the dresser.

"The beauty of crossing the line," I thought as my gaze lingered on Isaac's business card, which I clutched tightly in my hand.

The mere sight of it filled me with conflicting emotions—hope and fear intertwined in a wicked tango.

Part of me longed to reach out to him, to tell him of how irrational Elijah had acted at the presence of his gift.

Knowing how impatient Isaac seemed, he would probably ask me if I had made up my mind. I still had my doubts.

Which was funny. After everything, I still didn't want to hurt Elijah. Love wasn't just blind. It could be willfully blind. I claimed to hate the man, and yet I was here, in all my pain, having another moral dilemma.

Maybe it wasn't Elijah. Perhaps it was my own fears. The path I was intent on taking was treacherous waters. I knew very well how dangerous it would be for me despite it being that I was playing the game a man had set.

I glanced back at the door, half expecting Elijah to burst in at any moment, his imposing figure casting a shadow over whatever fragile sense of independence I had left. But the room remained silent, save for the distant hum of the air conditioning and the faint rustle of the curtains.

"Fuck it," I muttered and pulled closer to the telephone.

I made my choice.

I glanced at the card, then back at the telephone as I punched the numbers in. But just as I was about to hit the last number, I hesitated.

I felt my toes curl in disgust at how weak and pathetic I was being. The sanity was there. But why couldn't I just let it take control? I kept having second thoughts and doubts about a man who had singlehandedly ruined one of my special defining moments in life because of his greed.

I sighed in defeat. Maybe Isaac was right about me after all, I thought as I slid the card under my pillow. I still held love for Elijah instead of resentment.

How?

My fingers traced the jewelry on my neck. It was better I called him and told him that the whole thing was off. I was indeed doing this to make Elijah jealous and not lose him like I had convinced myself.

It wouldn't be fair to lead him on, knowing that either him or both of us would be the losers at the end.

But I would do it after dinner. Maybe I just needed a clearer state of mind. Going on a whim based on emotions would be incredibly foolish.

I nodded. That was smarter.

Elijah's jealousy had been the reason I was faltering. While it was nothing close, I was in that situation. It was like looking in the mirror, except I hated what I saw. Some part of me actually believed that now that Elijah had witnessed firsthand what it felt like, he wouldn't be so upfront with his cheating. He would be kinder.

I cringed, hearing myself. I needed to put my mind elsewhere.

I rose from the bed and made my way to the door. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was merely postponing the inevitable.

The confrontation with Elijah loomed on the horizon, a daunting prospect that filled me with a sense of dread.

Lost in my thoughts, I nearly collided with another as she emerged from the hallway, a startled expression flitting across her features.

My heart skipped a beat as I registered who she was.

Deborah.

The shock of seeing my husband's mistress in our home for the second time sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as we locked eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"