Chasing His Rejected Wife

Chapter 3 - Aiden Stood In Front Of Me

I woke to the sound of thunder, my heart hammering in my chest, senses still groggy from sleep taking a second to go on alert.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room for a split second, revealing the thick lines of rain water that ran down the windows, and the branches of the Sequoia tree swaying drunk in the storm. Another loud rumble had me cringing, clutching the duvet to my chest, eyes instinctively slamming shut at the sound. Unbidden, a whimper escaped my mouth, small and pathetic in the expanse of my bedroom.

I forced myself to take a deep breath, in an effort to calm the panic that clutched at my throat, and frayed my nerves. It was so silly, being afraid of thunderstorms, a fear that had followed me from childhood well into adulthood. Another flash of lightning had me scrambling off the bed, nearly tripping over the sheets as I lunged to the window to pull the blinds closed. I slowly moved away from the windows and stood in the middle of the room, for a couple seconds, hands clenched into fists, drawing deep breaths until the panic lost its edge.

My throat felt dry so I left the room, and padded barefoot down the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the thick luxurious carpeting that covered the entire top floor. The sensors turned on the lights, bathing the space in a comforting glow. I kept my eyes firmly fixed away from the wall of floor to ceiling windows on the other side of the hallway, the usually stunning view of downtown Manhattan hidden behind a blanket of darkness and rain.

I entered the kitchen, intent on getting a glass of water, but opened the fridge instead, suddenly struck by a craving for some ice cream. Pulling out the tub of Haagen Dazs ice cream, I paused when I spied some strawberries the housekeeper must have bought when she’d restocked the house. I took that out too, already feeling my mood lift at the prospect of a solo midnight binge session. I would worry about weight gain in the morning, but right now, I need something to cheer me up after a shitty week.

I deserve a treat, I reasoned as I fetched a spoon, then threw in a packet of M&M’s to my stash. After all, I was pregnant for a man who despised me, in love with same man who was in love with someone else, my sham of a marriage was due to end any day now, and in less than 8 hours, I would have to attend the funeral of a man I considered more of a father figure than my own actual father - wherever he may be.

Oh and it was currently storming like the apocalypse was nigh, and my ‘husband’ was out of the house for the second night in a row and god knew I didn’t even want to think about where or what he was doing at the moment and with whom.

So, yes, I did deserve to drown my sorrows in sugar, since alcohol was out of the question for the foreseeable future.

I carried my stash to the sitting room and turned on the TV, needing something to break up the silence and the storm. In no time, I was settled comfortably on the couch, a thick blanket around my legs, my favorite ongoing kdrama playing on the widescreen and gorging myself on my midnight treat.

It didn’t take long though, before I switched shows. Much as I loved this drama, I wasn’t particularly in the mood to watch fictional characters get their happy ending, while my real life sucked. I chose a crime documentary instead and was immersed in the world of serial killers and their hapless victims when the sound of the front door opening pulled me back to reality with a jolt.

I sat up, shocked. I wasn’t expecting anyone and I was alone in the house. Could someone be trying to break in? The thought had me scrambling for my phone, only to realize I’d left it in my room and to get to it, I would have to go through the front hallway where the burglar was.

My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my chest, fresh fear tightening a band around my chest until I could barely breathe. The sound of footsteps galvanized me into action and I grabbed the first object I could reach and tiptoed to the archway separating the living room from the hallway. I pressed my back against the wall, a silent prayer on my lips as I braced myself to confront the thief.

My plan was to hit them as hard as I could, then make a dash upstairs to temporary safety while I called for help. I swallowed, palms sweaty from nerves and fear as the footsteps came closer, no doubt drawn here by the sounds coming from the TV.

I raised my weapon and held my breath, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. When the thief crossed the arch, I lunged.

“What the f**k?” A too familiar voice yelled at the same time I caught a whiff of the cologne that gave me pause.

I froze, my hand clutching the weapon a few inches away from my husband’s face. He stood there, wearing a deep scowl, glaring at me.

“Oh…” Flustered, I lowered my hand, my face heating with embarrassment. “It’s you.” I finished lamely, flustered at the piercing gaze that was currently leveled at me in silent judgment.

“Who else would it be?” One dark eyebrow rose, mouth set in a thin line. “And why were you hiding behind the wall like that?”

“I thought you were a burglar.” I mumbled, dropping my gaze, unable to bear the censure in that cold gaze. I caught sight of his pants legs and oxfords, both damp from being out in the rain and wondered why he’d come home this late.

Not that I planned to ask, because I wasn’t sure I would like the answer.

“A burglar…” Aiden’s tone was incredulous, which in hindsight, made a lot of sense. Our mansion had the best security money could buy, and anyone trying to break in would need some real skills to manage such a feat.

Aiden’s eyes flicked down to the weapon in my hand. “And you were planning to attack this burglar with a remote control?”

I didn’t miss the mockery in his words and flinched. My fingers tightened around the remote and I stared at it, wondering if it was possible to die from mortification.

“I didn’t have my phone with me.” I said by way of explanation, “I didn’t know you’d come home, so it took me by surprise when the door opened.”

I turned away from him, wanting the conversation to be over and moved back to the couch, a sour feeling in my chest as I could feel Aiden’s gaze still on me. I sat down and chanced a look at him, just as his gaze moved around the room, taking in the remnants of my binge session which lay scattered on the coffee table, to the discarded blanket lying in a mess on the floor. His mouth twisted in that way that told me he was displeased and I self-consciously began to pick up my mess.

“Why are you up so late?” Aiden asked, shrugging out of his damp coat. He draped the fabric over one arm and began tugging at his tie with the other.

“I couldn’t sleep.” I replied simply, keeping my attention on what I was doing. I didn’t go into detail about how the storm unnerved me because Aiden wouldn’t care. He already knew of my phobia, growing up as I did in the Brown household, I could usually be found cowering under any solid object, my favorite place to hide being in the library under Julian’s heavy desk.

In fact, the first time I had developed a crush on Aiden had been after an encounter in that library when he’d found me crouched under the desk, eyes tightly shut, my knees drawn up in a protective hurdle.

He’d said nothing, but he’d fetched a blanket and set it over my shivering shoulders, then calmly took a book, sat down in one of the armchairs in my line of sight, and read quietly, keeping me company until the storm had subsided.

Forcing those thoughts from my mind, I gathered the empty container and stood up, intending on going to the kitchen to throw away the trash.

Aiden was standing in the way. He’d removed the tie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and I couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of tanned smooth expanse of skin peeking through. I swallowed, unable to tear my eyes away, images of my hands running over that skin, pressing little kisses down to his abdomen….

I wrenched my eyes away and forced my feet to move past him. My left arm brushed against the fabric of his shirt as I passed, a shiver running down my spine at the feeling. There’d been numerous times I’d imagined Aiden touching me, holding me tenderly while he kissed me. Sometimes I’d lay in my too big bed at night, turned on and longing for his touch, always ending up falling asleep with nothing but my dreams to comfort me.

It was ironic then, that I couldn’t remember a thing about the one night I’d supposedly had my wishes come through.

I suppressed a sigh.

“You wanted to tell me something.” I was startled a little when I realized Aiden had followed me to the kitchen. I’d been so engrossed in my thoughts I hadn’t paid him much attention. Usually, we went out of our way to avoid being in the same space.

“Huh?” I asked, drying my hands on a towel. He was leaning indolently against the frame, put away somewhere, hands thrust in pants pocket. He looked like he was posing for a GQ magazine, effortless and casual.

He raked a hand through his hair, some damp tendrils clung to his forehead, giving him a ruffled boyish look that I tried hard not to notice. “Yesterday, in the car. You said you had something to tell me.”