Sweet to the heart

Chapter 5

After a long and silent drive, the car finally arrived at the most luxurious residence in the South City's economic center. This duplex apartment, over 700 square meters, used to be Frank's private property. However, after his marriage to Emily, it was transferred to her name as their matrimonial home.

They got out of the car one after the other, heading up the elevator and into the apartment. Emily kicked off her high heels, feeling the cool, polished floor beneath her feet as she headed straight for the second floor. Frank followed her closely, his eyes tracing the elegant lines of her legs, accentuated by the short black dress she was wearing. Her feet, small and delicate with toes painted red, contrasted sharply against her black dress.

“Put on your slippers,” Frank’s deep voice instructed, his gaze fixed on her legs.

Ignoring him, Emily tiptoed up the stairs, her footsteps light and playful against the cool floor.

The second floor was designed with a master bedroom, a walk-in closet, a gym, and two studies, one for Frank and the other for Emily. However, Emily rarely used her studies, since she seldom worked late enough to require a separate workspace from the bedroom. Instead, she preferred lounging on the chaise in the bedroom when working from home.

After putting her bag in the walk-in closet, Emily covered herself with a thin blanket, reclining on the leather lounge chair in the bedroom and idly scrolling through her phone. She sent a quick message to Summer, asking if she had arrived home safely.

Moments later, Frank entered the room, holding a pair of women’s slippers. Emily glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, still typing absentmindedly.

He’s here, he’s here, and he brought his warm slippers again, she texted Summer. But Summer didn't reply immediately, probably not having her phone nearby.

Frank walked over and dropped the slippers at her feet, looking down at her. Emily turned off her phone and smiled up at him, wiggling her toes, “I’m not cold.”

“Put them on,” he repeated, his expression stern.

Emily thought to herself that Frank must be a control freak. He was used to everyone at the company obeying him and now expected her to do the same at home. But she wasn’t one of his employees, she was his wife through a business marriage, or more accurately, his roommate. She didn’t need to listen to him.

Defiantly, she placed her feet on the floor and looked up at him, her chin tilted in challenge, “I like being barefoot.”

Her smile was sweet, but her tone was dripping with provocation.

Frank’s lips curved slightly, his eyes gleaming, “Walking around barefoot will make your feet dirty, and then you’ll dirty the bedsheets.”

Emily’s mind went blank for a moment. What? She thought, Is he seriously worried about dirtying the bedsheets?

Fuming, Emily sat up straight, biting back a hundred curses. She glared at Frank when he wasn't looking and, out of sheer frustration, put on her slippers.

Frank's phone rang, and he left to answer it. Summer's messages finally came through.

Who’s here? Who’s here?

Is it your husband? Haha, maybe he's worried you'll catch a cold walking around barefoot. He sounds like a doting husband!

Emily typed back: Doting my foot!

Why so harsh? Remember, you’re a lady of high society! No, wait, you’re now a wealthy matron.

I told him I wasn’t cold, and he said my feet would get dirty and mess up the sheets.

He said that?! Okay, that's a bit much, give him a smack!

I can't beat him.

Then clench your little fists and give him a playful punch, act all cute, and then throw him on the bed.

Emily stared at Summer's messages, realizing they were at completely different wavelengths. No matter what Emily said, Summer would twist it into some romantic scene.

After their conversation, Emily went to the walk-in closet to grab her pajamas and headed to the bathroom to remove her makeup and take a shower. She liked to wear nightgowns at home for comfort, but with Frank back, she opted for a two-piece pajama set instead.

Although they had never had a physical relationship, the housekeeper, who had been with Frank's family for years, still came by to clean the house, and they had to keep up the appearance of a loving couple. To avoid raising suspicion, they shared the same bed.

In the beginning, Emily was a bit uncomfortable, worried that Frank might not be able to resist a beautiful woman like her beside him. But fortunately, the bed was big enough that they each had their own space. He slept on the left, and she stood on the right, with a space wide enough for two more people between them.

Even though they hadn’t explicitly agreed on not having marital relations, it was clear from the beginning that theirs was a business marriage. On their wedding night, when Emily showed reluctance, Frank had been the perfect gentleman, not pushing her at all, and had respected the invisible boundary she had set between them.

After her shower, Emily dried her hair and immediately went to bed, exhausted from wearing high heels all day. She drifted off quickly, her last thoughts lingering on Frank’s busy schedule. She couldn’t understand how he managed to stay so energetic with such a demanding workload.

Half asleep, she sensed Frank getting into bed. The familiar scent of his presence surrounded her, making her feel safe.

The next morning, Emily woke up early, reaching for her phone, only to find it was across the room on a table, three meters away. Frank must have moved it. He had a habit of keeping his phone far from the bed, probably after reading about how sleeping with a phone nearby could be harmful. He was very young but lived with the habits of an old man. What young person doesn’t keep their phone by their bedside these days?

Groaning, Emily got out of bed, put on her slippers, and walked over to retrieve her phone. Seeing that it was only 7:50 a.m., she felt a pang of regret, she could have slept in. Frank’s presence had undoubtedly disrupted her sleeping schedule. She usually slept until 11 a.m. on weekends.

Feeling slightly annoyed, she flopped onto the chair and began scrolling through twitter. As the clock ticked to 7:58, an idea sparked in her mind. She stuffed a pillow under the covers to make it look like someone was still in bed, arranged her slippers neatly by the bedside, and then dashed to the bathroom, keeping an eye on the time on her phone.

58... 59... 8:00.

The bedroom door opened right on time, and Frank walked in. Emily held her breath, listening to his footsteps.