Chapter 175 Frequency
Alexander's expression didn't flicker at the news. "Send the cameras and recorders to the tech department for analysis. The rabbits..."
He recalled how pleased Arabella had been with them, amusement touching his eyes. "Restore the rabbits to their original condition. Deliver them tomorrow."
"Yes, sir," Moris replied respectfully.
After hanging up, Alexander spun his phone idly between his fingers, his gaze drifting involuntarily toward the bathroom where water sounds echoed softly. The wet-dry separation meant he couldn't see any silhouette, but that didn't stop his imagination from running wild.
After a long moment, he took a deep breath and retreated to the bedroom.
When Arabella emerged from her shower, she found Alexander at the desk studying his computer. She glanced over—some kind of data display. Looking closer, she noticed line graphs with red and green fluctuations. "You trade stocks?"
Alexander's reflexes were a half-second too slow to close the subsidiary company's stock chart. He nodded smoothly. "Yeah. I check them occasionally."
He closed the window immediately.
Normally he wouldn't bother monitoring a small subsidiary's stock performance, but this one had just gone public—he was simply tracking market response.
His too-quick closure and slightly guilty expression made Arabella laugh as she toweled her hair. "Why so nervous? I'm not going to police your finances. We're married, but our money's separate. I won't overstep."
Alexander smiled inwardly. He wished she would overstep.
He stood. "I'm going to shower."
His stride carried a distinct note of escape.
After the bedroom fell quiet, Arabella remembered her earlier decision and anxiety crept back in. She rallied herself to blow-dry her hair. She'd barely finished when Alexander returned.
She jumped. "You—you showered so fast."
Something seemed off about her reaction. She looked... nervous? About him coming in?
But he didn't ask directly, just nodded. "Yeah. Guys don't take long—quick rinse and done."
Arabella nodded, putting away the hairdryer. After fidgeting for a moment, she steeled herself. "We're... we're married now. If you have... if you have needs, you can tell me. Because I don't know what your... frequency is, so... anyway, I'll try to... cooperate."
Saying it out loud was mortifying. Arabella's ears burned red. It had been almost two weeks since their accidental encounter. She worried Alexander might have needs but felt too awkward to bring it up.
Now that they'd decided to be a proper married couple, better to establish expectations sooner rather than later. Otherwise this awkwardness would drag on indefinitely.
Alexander hadn't expected Arabella to broach this topic herself. Surprise flickered clearly in his eyes. For a moment, he genuinely didn't know how to respond. He just stared at her.
Under his gaze, Arabella's toes curled hard enough to blueprint a mansion floor plan. She looked away, breaking eye contact.
"Could you... could you say something? What are you thinking? We need to communicate about this."
Alexander fought desperately to suppress a smile that threatened to split his face wider than the Grand Canyon.
What was he thinking? How could he think anything other than ten times a day would be perfect!
But coming on too strong might scare her. He asked tentatively, "What are you thinking?"
Arabella felt her face might actually melt from embarrassment. She knew Alexander was being respectful, but making the woman initiate this conversation was excruciating.
"I... I think the frequency should follow your needs. I can... I can handle whatever..."
By the time she finished speaking, she felt like she might disintegrate.
Alexander couldn't bear to torture her further. After thinking, he said, "How about we start with once a week? I'll make sure it goes well. Depending on how things develop, if you're comfortable, we can gradually shorten the interval."
Arabella's heart jumped.
Once a week? That frequently? She'd been thinking more like every two weeks or once a month. Wasn't sex supposed to be built on love? And for someone who liked both men and women, was his interest in women really this high?
Honestly, the frequency kind of panicked her...
Reading her expression, Alexander knew he'd pushed too hard. He explained casually, "I've heard that physical intimacy is crucial for maintaining marital bonds. No matter how big the conflicts or problems, as long as the sex life is healthy, the emotional connection stays strong."
That actually made sense to Arabella. After all, they were both committed to making this work. Mutual support in this area was appropriate.
She nodded in agreement. "Okay."
Silence filled the room.
Alexander cleared his throat. "So, um, should we..."
Arabella caught his meaning a beat late and quickly interjected, "I just wanted to discuss this today—I'm not planning on doing it tonight. You know, my mood's been off today. I'm worried it might affect the experience. How about... tomorrow?"
Getting laid—even if he had to wait another day—how could Alexander possibly refuse? His lips curved slightly upward. "Okay."
That night, they followed the habit they'd developed over the past two weeks, sleeping in each other's arms. Whose heart pounded wildly for half the night remained unclear.
---
Saturday morning, Arabella made her usual visit to her father's house. Percy was delighted to see her. Marilyn maintained her lukewarm demeanor, though she put on a warmer facade, terrified of getting kicked out.
Percy's legs had improved to the point where he could walk independently for short periods. According to his physical therapist, in three more months he'd manage longer activities, and within six months he'd function like a normal person.
Arabella was thrilled for her father. Someone she'd thought would be paralyzed for life had regained hope.
Percy's entire mental state had transformed recently. The air of deathly resignation was gone, replaced by optimism and vitality. He even brought up Daniel's grades unprompted.
"That kid ranked first in his entire school this time!"
Arabella lit up. "Really? The kid's got skills!"
Marilyn swelled with pride discussing her son, warming up considerably. "His homeroom teacher called me. Said if he maintains these grades, getting into a top university won't be a problem."
Arabella felt genuinely pleased. Daniel had never been a bad kid—just insecure, sensitive, defensive. Maybe he'd wandered down some wrong paths, but ultimately he'd found his way back.
She was truly happy for him.
Arabella had planned to stay for lunch, but right before the meal, Faye called in distress.
"Arabella! Help! I need help!"
Thinking something terrible had happened, Arabella asked urgently, "What's wrong?"
Faye wailed dramatically. "It's my mom! My cousin's getting married today, and my parents are traveling, so they're making me represent the family at the wedding. But my boyfriend doesn't want me to go. Can you go for me?"
Arabella didn't understand. "Why doesn't your boyfriend want you to go? This is your family's business."
Faye sighed heavily. "You don't know him. He's so insecure and sensitive. He thinks my whole family looks down on him, so whenever there's a family event, he avoids it if possible. He just loves me so much—I understand where he's coming from."
Arabella sighed, biting back the words on her tongue, stopping short of being impolite. In the end, she said nothing except, "Okay."
Relieved that Arabella had agreed, Faye said quickly, "I'll transfer you money. My cousin comes from money—Mom wants me to give a nice gift."
"Drop off the gift and leave?" Arabella clarified.
Faye laughed. "If you want to grab some food, that's fine too! They're doing it at the Sheraton—supposedly the highest tier banquet package. Premium seafood everywhere. If you get a chance, say hi to my cousin for me? Her name's Shelly. She's really nice."
"Got it. I'll see how it goes," Arabella said.
She was just running an errand—not planning to freeload a meal. If she happened to run into Faye's cousin, she'd say hello. If not, whatever.
After hanging up, Faye transferred the money immediately. Arabella withdrew cash from the nearest ATM, went to the mall, and selected an expensive gift—about ten thousand dollars.
Following the address Faye provided, she approached the hotel to find it buzzing with activity. A long red carpet stretched from the entrance, flanked by elaborate floral arrangements—romantic and extravagant.
Arabella whistled softly. This was some serious money. Faye had such well-connected relatives—why not find a boyfriend in her own circles instead of clinging to that dead-end relationship?
Inside, the décor was even more lavish. The guests moving through the space were clearly wealthy, the kind who radiated a different social stratum.
Arabella didn't pay much attention to the crowd. She headed to the gift registry to drop off Faye's contribution. Just as she finished signing, a shrill voice cut through behind her. "Arabella? What are you doing here?"
Arabella turned to find Rachel glaring at her.
Majestic City wasn't that big, apparently—she kept running into the Watsons. She didn't respond.
That set Rachel off. She strode forward, eyes blazing. "Hey! I'm talking to you. What's with that attitude? Answer me! Why are you here? Did you find out my brother was coming and stalk him?"
Arabella's silence wasn't fear—it was exhaustion. She and the Watsons seemed to exist on completely different wavelengths. They never understood anything she said.
In Rachel's eyes, no matter what Arabella did, it was all about scheming to get back with Anthony, to reclaim her position as Mrs. Watson.
No matter how she explained, Rachel wouldn't believe her.
So she didn't bother anymore. "Someone asked me to handle something. Nothing to do with your family."
She turned to leave.
Rachel wasn't about to let that happen. This woman had served the Watsons like a maid—Rachel had gotten used to ordering her around. Even divorced, Rachel still saw Arabella as trash beneath her feet. And now this trash was trying to rebel, treating her with such dismissiveness? Absolutely not.
"What, caught red-handed so you're running away in shame?" Rachel sneered, blocking her path. "Last time you got that psycho to kidnap and threaten my mother—I haven't settled that score yet. Now you've walked right into my hands. Perfect timing to settle old and new grudges together!"
Arabella frowned. "What kidnapping and threats? I don't know what you're talking about. Stop blaming me for everything."
"Still denying it? That woman threatened my mom to leave you alone, said you were under her protection. You're saying you didn't know?" Rachel demanded aggressively.
A cold voice cut in from behind. "Rachel, don't make things up."
Anthony stepped in front of Arabella, looking apologetic. "You know Rachel's temperament—don't take her seriously. Are you here for the wedding too?"
Rachel stamped her foot, clearly annoyed. "Anthony!"
Why did her brother keep protecting Arabella lately?
She hadn't even gotten to put this bitch in her place yet!
Anthony shot her a warning look. "Go inside. Don't forget your assignment today."
Rachel looked like she wanted to argue but ultimately just stamped her foot again, shot Arabella a venomous glare, and stormed inside.
Anthony slipped one hand in his pocket, regarding Arabella. "We agreed when we divorced that we'd still be friends if we met again. How about coming in for a drink?"
Arabella's smile was tight. "No thanks. I have things to do. I'm leaving."
She turned to go, but Anthony grabbed her arm. Arabella's expression darkened. "Anthony, let go. You know how good my husband is in a fight. Want to add to your injuries?"
At the mention, fury flashed in Anthony's eyes. He might look impeccable in his tailored suit right now, perfectly polished—but only he knew how viciously Alexander had beaten him last night.
The swelling on his face was barely covered with makeup. Bruises mottled his torso. His broken ribs were taped up, still causing grinding, relentless pain.
If he hadn't known Mrs. Gao would be attending today's banquet—if he hadn't needed to be here for the company's future—he should be lying in a hospital bed for the next month recovering.
All of it, courtesy of Alexander.
Rage surged through him, the violent urge to carve Alexander apart piece by piece. He believed that day would come eventually.
But his expression remained cultivated and refined. Seeing Arabella today, he had no intention of letting her leave easily. This was the perfect opportunity. All he had to do was get her inside, make her drink a couple glasses, and she'd be out cold.
After that? He'd call all the shots.