Betrayed By The Billionaire

72

Facing Xavier’s frozen gaze, Chloe spoke with a practiced, steady calm. "I learned, of course, for my future husband. Which happens to be you."

Technically, she had mastered those skills with Liam Martin in mind, but in the end, the person benefiting from her labor would be her legal husband and her child. As for Liam, he was a closed chapter. She would never step into a kitchen for him again, and he no longer had a seat at her table.

Xavier seemed mollified by her answer; the harsh lines of his face softened ever so slightly.

Relieved, Chloe used her chopsticks to place two succulent pieces of Dongpo Pork into his bowl. "I told my mother you liked this. She made extra, so please, have as much as you want."

Xavier watched her. Is this woman trying to curry favor? he wondered. Yet, he noted that she had actually bothered to remember his preferences. Under her expectant gaze, he picked up a piece and ate it.

"Well?" Chloe asked with a smile. "My mother’s cooking is amazing, isn't it?"

Xavier swallowed and replied at a leisurely pace, "It’s not as good as yours."

Chloe’s heart skipped a beat. Was that... a compliment?

"Is that so?" she stammered, trying to keep her voice even. "Perhaps you’ve just grown accustomed to my taste."

Xavier’s eyes lifted to hers, his gaze deepening with an unreadable intensity. Realizing the accidental double entendre, Chloe’s face flushed crimson. "I meant... the taste of the food! The seasoning!"

Xavier’s lips curved into a faint, mocking half-smile. Chloe felt a wave of sheer embarrassment wash over her. Of course it’s the food! What else would it be? Distraught, she buried her face in her own bowl and ate in silence until a stray soybean bounced off her cheek.

She looked up to see Xavier meticulously picking out the ingredients he disliked and tossing them into her bowl.

"Eat them," he commanded.

"Fine," Chloe muttered. She couldn't very well argue with the man saving her father's company, so she puffed out her cheeks and dutifully finished the unwanted greens.

Watching her indignant, pouting expression, the corners of Xavier’s thin lips twitched upward—a flash of amusement that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

The Afternoon Lull

After lunch, Xavier returned to his mountain of paperwork. Determined to follow her mother's advice about being a "good wife," Chloe brewed him a fresh cup of coffee and asked with forced casualness, "Um... are you tired?"

Xavier glanced up.

"If you are," she cleared her throat, "I could give you a massage. Since you're working so hard for the Bishop Group."

Xavier’s expression instantly cooled. "No need. You can leave now."

But Chloe didn't leave. She walked over to the bookshelf and pulled down a volume on business management her father, Charles Bishop, had always nagged her to read. She sat on the sofa and began to flip through it.

An hour later, the rhythmic sound of soft breathing filled the office. Xavier looked up from a merger contract to find Chloe fast asleep, her head resting sweetly on the open pages of the book.

Xavier didn't wake her. Instead, he picked up his desk phone and buzzed his assistant. "Inform all department heads and above. Emergency meeting in the conference room in five minutes."

Two hours passed before a long, elegant finger tapped on the mahogany table in front of her. Chloe murmured a protest in her sleep before her eyes fluttered open. The moment she saw Xavier looming over her, she jolted upright, completely awake.

"Are you finished?" she asked, smoothing her hair.

Xavier gave a noncommittal "Mm" and strode toward the door. As they entered the elevator, he noticed Chloe clutching the two lunch boxes, struggling to keep pace. His eyes narrowed as he focused on her gait—she was walking with a slight, labored stiffness.

"Xavier," Chloe bit her lip as the elevator descended. "It’s still early. Why don't you come to my house for dinner tonight?"

They had been married for a week, and she still hadn't brought him to see her father.

Xavier didn't answer. Instead, his thumb moved rapidly across his phone screen. Moments later, the display showed several types of medicinal ointments and muscle rubs.

When the elevator doors opened, he stepped back to let her out first. His gaze remained fixed on her legs, tracking the subtle, pained hesitation in every step she took.