Chapter 65 Handle me
RORY POV
Alexander had disappeared. Again.
He had a way of vanishing off the face of the earth like a ghost returning to the fog. He hadn't said a word to me, Rosemary was the one who eventually took pity on me and told me he was on a business trip. It had been four days, and the silence in the house was deafening.
I'd actually had to beg Rosemary for his phone number. It was pathetic, really-married to a man for months and I didn't even have a way to reach him.
Perks of being a Miller, I guess. A very dysfunctional, cold, billion-dollar family.
Every call went straight to voicemail, and every message I sent was met with a cold, blue "Read" receipt and no reply.
I missed him so much it was driving me crazy.
I spent most of those four days with Liam. He was happier than l'd ever seen him, even though he had his father's cruel knack for honesty. "You're only playing with me because Daddy isn't here to keep you in his room," he'd said yesterday. It was a lie, mostly, but it stung because of the grain of truth at the center.
I flipped a page in my book, the sound echoing in the library. This was the only room in the house that felt like mine.
The whole place was bigger than my old apartment in Throggs Neck — high ceilings, long shelves running from floor to ceiling with one of those rolling ladders you could climb to reach the books at the top. The kind of room that existed in houses where people had more money than they knew what to do with.
I was sitting on the table in the middle of the room with my legs crossed, trying to read. But I couldn’t enjoy a single line. Alexander kept slipping into my head no matter how many times I pushed him out.
Was he in a penthouse right now? Was he fucking someone else? I wondered if some elegant, polished woman in a city far away had charmed him with whatever was between her legs. The thought made my stomach churn with a toxic mix of jealousy and grief.
Click.
The door opened. I felt the shift in the air before I even looked up. The static of his presence always announced him first.
I let out a breath l'd been holding for ninety-six hours. All the tension in my body evaporated the moment he stepped into the light. I could have sworn it was the same for him — the way his shoulders dropped slightly the moment he stepped inside, like something had unknotted.
"Somebody is finally home," I said, forcing my voice to stay nonchalant. I didn't want him to know that his absence had nearly unraveled
me.
Alexander kept his expression ice-cold, that unreadable Miller mask firmly in place. He walked toward me, his eyes dark and heavy. I hopped down from the table, my feet hitting the rug with a soft thud. I saw his eyes narrow, tracking the way my breasts swelled and bounced under the thin silk of my nightgown. It was a short, champagne-colored slip with spaghetti straps that barely covered my hips.
If I'd known he was coming back tonight, I might have worn something less... inviting. But the library had become my sanctuary, and l'd stopped caring what I wore.
His eyes came back up and his jaw ticked slightly.
“What are you reading?” he asked, eyes shifting to the book on the table. His lips curled with dark amusement as he read the title out loud. “Fuck Me, Daddy.”
He'd been back for less than a minute and he was already setting my entire nervous system on fire.
"I don't remember buying that for the collection," he added coolly, his gaze snapping back to mine.
"I-I bought it myself. I'm sorry. I can return it," I stammered.
“What did I tell you about saying sorry,” he said. “Do whatever you want. You’re my wife.”
He always knew exactly what words to use to make my stomach flip.
“Where have you been?” The question that had been burning in my chest finally came out.
“Los Angeles.”
Los Angeles.
The city of sin. I'd heard about the elite parties there, the kind where the rich and powerful indulged in everything forbidden. He’d probably been at one. The air around him reeked of expensive bourbon and everything forbidden confirmed it.
“Doing what?” I pressed.
He tilted his head, a flash of genuine amusement crossing his features. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I'm your wife!” My voice cracked with frustration. “You've been gone for four days without a word. Was Los Angeles so fun that you forgot you had a home? Or a woman waiting in it?"
I had no idea where I got the nerve. Probably from four days of missing him and having nowhere to put it.
“You’re mad at me,” he said, sounding almost pleased.
“Forget it,” I muttered, grabbing my book and turning to leave.
I didn't make it two steps. Alexander lunged, grabbing my arm and shoving me back against his chest. The impact was electric. My nipples grazed the rough fabric of his shirt, hardening instantly. A wave of heat flooded my thighs, making my knees weak. I tried to push back, to create some space between our bodies, but he was a wall of muscle.
"You do not walk away when l'm talking to you. Understood?" he sneered, his face inches from mine.
I nodded, my breath hitching.
"You're mad at me," he repeated, bringing us back to the moment.
I shook my head, my eyes fixed on his chest because looking at his lips was too dangerous.
"I'm just mad you chose to spend your time in some elite club in Vegas or L.A. doing whatever you wanted while I stayed here."
“What do you mean ‘doing whatever I want’?” His fingers brushed the exposed skin of my shoulder, tracing slow circles. Goosebumps erupted everywhere. My heart hammered against my ribs.
I hesitated, then whispered the ugly thought that had been poisoning me for days.
“Sleeping with other women… maybe watching strippers… Whatever it is men like you do when no one is watching.”
“You don’t want me sleeping with other women?” His voice was low, dangerous.
Of course I didn’t. But I had no right to say it. He was Alexander Miller — every woman wanted him, and he had needs. He wouldn’t sleep with me and a man like him didn't stay celibate. It was only fair he looked elsewhere. Even if the thought of it made me want to break something.
"You can..." I swallowed hard, the words tasting like ash. "But don't just leave without telling me. And don't come home to me smelling like sex."
His fingers stopped moving on my shoulder. He caught my chin and tilted my face up, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Are you sure? Is that really what you want?”
he asked, his voice dropping into a register that made my stomach flip.
“It’s not what I want,” I said. The words came out before I could stop them. “I can’t stand the thought of you with other women.”
"Fine." He let go of my chin, but he didn't move away. He stepped even closer, his shadow swallowing me whole. "Can you handle me, then?"
"What?" | breathed.
"The way I fuck, Aurora. Can you handle it?"