Chapter 5
814 Words
CHAPTER 5
THE MAN WHO KNEW MY HABITS
Natalie woke up at six forty-three in the morning because someone had opened her curtains.
She shot upright.
“Who gave you permission to do that?”
The woman standing by the window nearly dropped the curtains.
“I'm sorry, Mrs. Prescott.”
Natalie stared at her.
Mrs. Prescott.
She still wasn't used to that.
“It's Natalie.”
The woman smiled nervously. “Yes, ma'am.”
“Don't call me ma'am either. It makes me feel like someone's grandmother.”
A tiny smile appeared on the woman's face.
“Breakfast is ready downstairs.”
Natalie glanced at the clock.
“I don't eat breakfast this early.”
The woman hesitated.
Natalie's eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“Mr. Prescott said you would say that.”
Natalie threw the blanket aside.
“Of course he did.”
Downstairs, Vincent was already seated at the enormous kitchen island, dressed in a dark suit, reading something on his tablet.
Natalie stopped at the entrance.
The kitchen was bright, modern and painfully expensive.
Vincent didn't look up.
“You're late.”
She stared at him.
“Good morning to you too.”
“Good morning.”
“Was that difficult?”
“No.”
She pulled out a chair.
Before she could sit, Vincent pushed a plate toward her.
Natalie looked down.
Toast.
Scrambled eggs.
Fresh strawberries.
And coffee.
She stared at the cup.
Then at him.
“What is this?”
“Breakfast.”
“I can see that.”
Vincent finally looked up.
“You're hungry.”
“How would you know?”
“You're rubbing your stomach.”
Natalie immediately dropped her hand.
Vincent returned to his tablet.
She hated him a little.
She took a sip of the coffee.
Her eyes widened.
Perfect.
She took another.
“How did you make this?”
“I didn't.”
“Then who did?”
“The kitchen staff.”
“No. I mean how did they know I like it this way?”
Vincent's eyes lifted.
“You told them.”
“When?”
“Before.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“You've asked that question four times since yesterday.”
“Because you haven't given me a useful answer.”
A faint crease appeared between his brows.
“You like two sugars. No cream.”
Natalie stared at him.
“You remember?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Vincent looked genuinely confused.
“Because you're my wife.”
Something about the answer hit differently.
Natalie looked down at her coffee.
She didn't remember being his wife.
But apparently, Vincent remembered everything.
She picked up a strawberry.
“What's my favorite food?”
“Pasta.”
“Wrong.”
Vincent's eyebrows lifted.
Natalie smiled triumphantly.
“Ha.”
“Spicy pasta.”
Her smile vanished.
He returned to his tablet.
Natalie narrowed her eyes.
“Favorite color?”
“Green.”
She paused.
“Favorite movie?”
“Depends on your mood.”
“What annoys me most?”
“People chewing loudly.”
She slowly lowered her fork.
“Okay.”
Vincent glanced up.
“What?”
“You're creepy.”
His expression remained perfectly calm.
“You married me.”
“I clearly wasn't thinking properly.”
That one landed.
She saw it.
The tiny shift in his eyes.
Natalie immediately regretted the words, which irritated her even more.
Vincent looked back at his tablet.
“Your car is waiting outside.”
“I can drive myself.”
“No.”
She looked up.
“Excuse me?”
“You're not driving yet.”
“Why?”
“Your doctor said—”
“My doctor isn't my husband.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“No. He's not.”
Silence.
Natalie looked away.
She didn't know why that answer suddenly felt heavy.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
She opened the message.
**Ask Vincent about the Prescott Foundation gala.**
Her fingers froze.
Vincent noticed immediately.
“What is it?”
Natalie locked her screen.
“Nothing.”
His gaze stayed on her.
For the first time, Natalie understood something.
He wasn't the only person who knew how to lie.
She smiled sweetly.
“I'm going to take a shower.”
Vincent watched her stand.
“Natalie.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“Don't go looking for answers alone.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Why?”
His eyes held hers.
“Because whoever sent that message wants you to remember.”
Natalie's pulse jumped.
“How do you know about the message?”
Vincent said nothing.
Her stomach dropped.
“You knew someone would contact me.”
Still nothing.
Natalie took one step toward him.
“What happened at the Prescott Foundation gala?”
Vincent's face became unreadable.
And Natalie knew she'd just found the first real c***k in her husband's perfect story.
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