Chapter 330
Chapter 330
First, I’d like to sincerely apologize for the delay in updates.
I’ve been absent because I was battling a severe illness that left me hospitalized for a month. I was discharged two days ago, and while I’m still recovering and not yet back to full health, I’m doing much better than before.
I’ll be resuming updates as consistently as my recovery allows and will do my best to get back on track. Thank you for your patience, understanding, and continued support during this time.
I’m truly sorry for the delay, and I appreciate every one of you for sticking with me. ❤️
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Sapphire’s POV
I stare out the window in awe, barely able to process the fact that I’m actually in Rome.
Rome.
The Great Library is somewhere along Via del Corso, supposedly easy to find according to Jerry, though trusting anything that comes out of his mouth still feels like a gamble. Hendrix had the private jet prepared almost immediately after the decision was made, and by the next day, we were already in the air.
Unfortunately for me, it was also my first time on a plane.
Turns out, I hate flying.
I spent the entire trip clinging to Scarlette like my life depended on it. Even now, long after landing and leaving the airport, I’m still practically attached to her while Hendrix drives the rental car towards the hotel he booked for us. If he weren’t driving, I probably would’ve been glued to him instead.
“Have you been to Rome before?” I ask, finally tearing my eyes away from the streets outside.
Scarlette barely glances up from her phone. “I’ve been almost everywhere.”
She says it so casually it’s annoying.
“Nothing impresses me anymore.”
I watch her thumb aggressively attack the screen. She’s playing some game with the concentration of a soldier diffusing a bomb.
She’s still grumpy about being here.
Scarlette wanted to stay behind with Cooper, and honestly, part of me nearly got emotional over the fact that she chose him over me for once in her life. Unfortunately for her, Hendrix insisted she come with us anyway. Cooper protested. Kira protested louder. Neither of them won.
Kira, however, needed bribing before she stopped complaining.
“I haven’t been anywhere,” I mutter. “So I’m still impressed.”
Scarlette lifts her icy stare from the phone and deadpans, “You know what fascinates me right now?”
I already regret speaking.
“My mate’s arse.”
Gillian makes a noise somewhere between disgust and suffering. “What is wrong with you and Cooper’s arse?”
I glance at him. He’s curled into himself in the back seat, pale and traumatised. Apparently, Gillian is terrified of flying. Not mildly uncomfortable—terrified. He cried from take-off to landing and still looks like his soul hasn’t fully returned to his body.
Scarlette shrugs. “It calls to me. I answer.”
I look at Gillian in confusion.
He wraps his arms around himself and shudders dramatically. “You haven’t seen it for yourself, Goldfish.”
Goldfish?
He points weakly at Scarlette. “You haven’t seen it yourself,” he continues with a grimace. “Her hands are always inside that man’s trousers. Touching his dick, grabbing his arse, fingering—”
“Alright, alright,” I cut in, laughing despite myself. “Do you actually have a fetish?”
She shrugs again.
“I like what I like.”
“You should grow a dick at this point.”
“I would,” she replies without missing a beat, eyes still on her game, “but unfortunately I’ve got a pussy instead. It works out fine though. My fiancé’s very committed to fucking it.”
Gillian groans in misery.
Scarlette finally lowers her phone and looks directly at me. “So what about you? What part of your husband gets you going instantly?”
She snaps her fingers beside her face.
Heat rushes straight into mine and I immediately look away, my eyes darting towards Drix.
He catches it.
His grin only makes it worse.
Scarlette grins too. “Don’t get shy now,” she teases. “We all know he’s ridiculously attractive, but what part of him actually gets you cooking?”
“Can you not be weird for five minutes?” I groan. “And what does ‘gets you cooking’ even mean?”
Drix laughs under his breath before slamming his palm lightly against the horn when another car cuts across us.
“I’ll answer that for her.”
My eyes widen immediately. “Drix—”
“She doesn’t even know herself,” he says casually, amused. “One day she’s shy and innocent, the next she’s shy and absolutely filthy. Half the time, she gets turned on by things she doesn’t even realise are affecting her.”
“Stop talking.”
He ignores me completely.
“Most of the time, she doesn’t even need to look at me. Her imagination does the work for me.”
“Drix!”
Scarlette bursts into laughter while Gillian looks like he’s reconsidering jumping out of the moving car.
Meanwhile, I seriously consider smothering my mate with the nearest pillow the second we reach the hotel.
“In other words,” Scarlette says slowly, setting her phone on her lap, “you just let him do all the work.”
She clicks her tongue dramatically. “Snuggle Bunny, you do realise women are allowed to take initiative too, right? Or do you just sit there looking pretty until he decides it’s time to—”
“I did it once!” I blurt out before she can finish.
The words come out far louder than intended.
Everyone looks at me.
Wonderful.
“It’s just…” I struggle through the heat climbing into my face. “He never gives me time to plan anything! The second we’re alone, he’s already shoving his huge dick inside me every chance he gets.” I throw my hands up in frustration. “What’s the point of making plans when I know he’ll beat me to it anyway?”
“Wow,” Gillian says, staring openly at me. “Look at her face. My shirt officially has competition.”
I blink at him before realising what he means.
His shirt is red.
So is my face.
The heat spreads straight down my neck and into my ears as I glare at him. “Why are you even listening to this, you virgin twat?”
He smirks lazily. “You can’t provoke me, Goldfish.”
I narrow my eyes. “What is with that stupid nickname?”
“Scarlette,” Drix says through a laugh, “stop teasing her before she combusts.”
That only makes them laugh harder.
I fold my arms tightly and shift closer to the window, away from all of them. Honestly, it’s not even my fault. It’s not like I don’t want to do anything. Hendrix simply never gives me the chance to prepare anything myself.
The moment we’re alone, his hands are on me.
Every time.
And somehow, despite knowing exactly where things are heading, my body still reacts like it’s the first time. One touch and every coherent thought disappears. He kisses me like he means it, touches me like he’s starved for it, and suddenly I’m melting into whatever he wants before I can even think about trying something of my own.
At the end of it, he always gets exactly what he wants anyway—a dishevelled wife sprawled against him, shaking, exhausted, covered in sweat and completely ruined for the rest of the day.
So does it even matter?
A horrible thought slips in before I can stop it.
Am I failing as his wife?