His words sent an electric shock through my body.
“I’m not going. I don’t want anything.”
Hearing my refusal, his face instantly darkened: “You’re going whether you want to or not. All you do is stay home cooking and cleaning–people might think you’re angling for the housekeeper’s job. Get your ass out there and see how the real world works!”
I looked at my ravaged hands and suddenly found it all absurd.
All these years, to accommodate his germaphobia, I’d washed the sheets three times daily, laundered his clothes by hand.
Turns out in his eyes I was nothing but… a maid.
Seeing me lower my head in silence, his patience snapped completely. He shoved me into my designated “disinfectant” tub.
After washing, he steeled himself to dry me off, disgust written plainly across his face.
Once I was dry, he went through his own disinfection routine before dragging me to the car.
At the auction venue, people mingled with drinks, buzzing about the upcoming event.
As soon as she spotted me, Zoey rushed over with a smile, examining my hands carefully.
Both hands, long exposed to disinfectant, were pale with a reddish tinge, skin paper–thin and covered in rashes.
“Pfft, what delicate hands you have, Stella. I hear Nathan can’t even bear to touch you–probably scared he’ll break you or something?”
Someone immediately burst out: “Ha! More like he just doesn’t want to touch her. I mean, come on–five years married and still a virgin?”
Another round of roaring laughter rose in waves, mercilessly drowning me.
I frowned, my face burning with humiliation, and spoke coldly: “You done?”
Nathan clicked his tongue, his dark eyes filled with displeasure: “They’re complimenting you. Don’t be ungrateful.”
Seeing my expression still hadn’t softened, one of the guys at the table picked up a glass and handed it to me:
“Come on, Stella, don’t be such a buzzkill. He was just hyping you up. Here, try this–it’s expensive stuff.”
I looked around. Every pair of eyes was fixed on me.
I remembered that their plan to auction off my virginity tonight.
ing the Cake for Real Love
63.0%
Chapter 3
Coldly pushed away the offered glass, I said, “I don’t drink.”
Nathan’s knuckles whitened around his glass, barely holding back his anger:
“Fine, refusing a toast only to drink a forfeit. This is exactly why I say you’ve lost your damn mind cooped up at home–can’t take a joke, won’t drink, what the hell do you want?”
I took a step back, meeting his gaze with deadly seriousness:
“That’s my question. What the hell do you want, Nath-”
Before I could finish, I felt a sharp sting–a needle jabbing into my lower back.
Hiss-
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