The Billionaire’s Deaf Wife.

Chapter 9: Tempting.

Elias’s POV

“Mr. Moreno, over here!”

“Elias Moreno, please smile for the camera.”

“Maria Moreno, a word for the press?”

My head snapped toward the reporter who said that last line, a smug grin stretching across his face, a knowing smirk, knowing fully well she would not be able to hear or speak. I locked his face into memory, silently vowing to find out which agency he worked for and make sure he never worked again.

Camera flashed blinded us as we stood at the entrance. I turned my head toward Maria, expecting the usual discomfort I’d grown used to seeing in her during public appearances. But instead, I found her basking in the attention. She didn’t look tense or out of place, there was no trace of her usual nervous smile, no hint of fakeness. She looked genuinely happy. Radiant, even.

I stared at her for several long moments, my mind racing. Like I needed another confirmation that something was off.

I tossed a quick glance behind me, and Carla was already standing nearby, sharp and ready.

“Send Kola to my wife’s bedroom,” I muttered under my breath. “Tell him to do exactly what we discussed.”

He nodded instantly and disappeared into the crowd.

I was done entertaining the press. I took Maria by the hand and pulled her away from the flashing lights into the main event hall. She gave me an irritated look, but, unsurprisingly, said nothing.

As we entered, the usual hush followed by a wave of murmurs rippled through the room. Eyes locked on us. People, both men and women, gravitated toward me, as they always did. I was used to that. What I wasn’t used to was Maria slipping away from my side to socialize.

That wasn’t like her.

She wandered off with a smile on her face, engaging people effortlessly. Maria rarely left my side at events like these. In fact, she hated them. She never outrightly said so, but I always noticed, the polite but stiff smiles, the way she clung to me during conversations, the subtle pout she wore when she signed to leave just an hour or two after we arrived.

But tonight? This wasn’t the Maria I knew.

This Maria looked like she belonged here. Like she wanted to be here. My jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, a dull throb blooming at the base of my skull. I was pissed, and not just annoyed. I was deeply, thoroughly unsettled.

Something wasn’t right.

My gaze kept drifting back to her, not out of longing, like usual, but suspicion. I wasn’t admiring her beauty or the way her dress fit her body. I was watching her movements, her mannerisms. Waiting. Bracing for the next shoe to drop.

I saw her smiling, signing as she engaged in conversation with a group of women. A sign language interpreter stood beside her, keeping up effortlessly.

No matter how often I reassured Maria that people didn’t care she was deaf, she never mingled like this. She always saw herself as lesser, as someone who didn’t deserve to be by my side. But she didn’t realize it was the opposite. I was the one who didn’t deserve her.

After her last surgery, the one where the doctor warned that another operation could cost her both her hearing and her sense of smell, Maria gave up. She declined every new hearing enhancement device. She embraced sign language and withdrew from anything resembling hope.

Senator Clinton was speaking beside me, but I wasn’t paying attention. I had anticipated this event for weeks, had planned to lock down a deal with him, but now that the opportunity was here, I could barely concentrate.

Because Maria… Maria had been unraveling these past few weeks.

She barely saw Isaac anymore. She slept well into the afternoon and barely lifted a finger to prepare a meal for our son. Isaac had been crying more lately, missing his mother, growing anxious. Two weeks ago, he got sick. I had to work from home just to care for him.

Every attempt I made to talk to Maria failed. She locked herself in her room. When I wasn’t around, she sent my men, especially Kola, on errands. Boutiques. Shopping trips. Spending money on things she didn’t need.

Maria never spent lavishly before. She’d always been meticulous about money, even providing lists of everything she bought, no matter how many times I told her it wasn’t necessary. I never read them.

But now? This Maria didn’t bother asking. I had to request a purchase list directly from the boutique she visited. She was occupying all my thoughts, but not in the usual, intoxicating way. No. This time, it was in a way that made me feel like I could strangle her.

“Maria looks different, doesn’t she?” Senator Clinton asked.

At the sound of her name, I became instantly alert.

“What do you mean?” I asked coolly.

He chuckled. “She just seems… more excited. Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Moreno. But she looks like she’s actually enjoying herself, more than just playing arm candy.”

I glanced at Maria again. She was laughing, laughing, with her hand over her mouth. The interpreter and the women around her were laughing too. What were they even talking about?

I forced myself to return to the conversation. “About that deal, Senator Clinton…”

With effort, I buried the fire brewing inside me and shifted to business mode. I managed to secure a spot in our deal, pushing Maria from my mind long enough to get the signature.

From there, I moved on to mingle with others eager to work with me. Still, Maria never returned to my side. She didn’t even signal that she wanted to leave.

Deep in conversation with Mr. Basher, about some industry I had no personal interest in, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a message from Kola.

SECURED BOSS!

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. I slid the phone back into my pocket, half-listening to Mr. Basher ramble.

Very soon, I’d know exactly what was going on with my wife.

———-

During the car ride home, it took everything in me not to grab Maria and shake her, demanding answers, asking her what the hell was going on with her. I wanted to know why she had changed so much, why she felt like a stranger to me, and if she was silently suffering from something I hadn’t yet uncovered.

But I held myself back.

Instead, I buried myself in my phone, responding to a flurry of emails, while Maria reclined on the other side of the seat, quiet and distant.

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes into the drive that I felt her hand inching along my thigh. I glanced up and found her suddenly very close, too close. There was a smirk on her lips, and a spark in her eyes that unsettled me. Slowly, her manicured fingers continued gliding up my leg, creeping toward my groin. I didn’t flinch. If I was surprised, I didn’t show it.

I signed to her, “What are you doing?”

She simply smiled in response, her red lipstick making her white teeth pop, and placed her hand fully over my clothed d**k, squeezing slightly, like her touch alone answered the question. “What does it look like?” she seemed to say without a word.

She continued groping me, leaning in to kiss my neck softly, almost teasingly. I met Carla’s eyes through the rearview mirror, and that brief exchange confirmed something for both of us, something was seriously wrong with Maria.

Still, I let her touch me. Let her lips roam, let her fingers explore. My arms remained stiff at my sides, unmoving, my face unreadable as I tried to process what exactly was happening to me.

Because I wasn’t getting hard.

And that alone was enough to raise alarms.

It was unlike me. Unnatural even. Being in the same room with Maria, simply thinking about her, had always been enough to turn me on. She didn’t need to touch me, I was always hard for her. My mind was constantly swimming with thoughts of her, of what I could do to her, how I could take her, ruin her, own her. She wasn’t just the woman who had my heart, my body had always belonged to her too.

But now? Now that she was all over me, I should’ve come in my pants from the contact alone. But instead, all I felt was disgust. Pure fury.

It was as though I was being touched by claws, claws that scratched not pleasure into my skin, but a strange kind of repulsion. There was no desire. No arousal. Just cold, suffocating anger. I wasn’t attracted to this version of Maria.

As soon as Carla pulled into the driveway, I removed her hand from me. Her shock was written all over her face, but I didn’t linger. I stepped out of the car without saying a word, eager to see my son; the only one in this house I still recognized.

Maria followed behind me. I could hear the angry stomp of her heels against the pavement. She was going to say something. Of course she was.

I deliberately slowed my pace as I reached the front door, giving her the chance to catch up. But she didn’t. I hissed under my breath, then made my way to Isaac’s room.

He was already in bed, sleeping soundly. I leaned down to kiss his forehead, gently adjusting his covers. I stood there for a long moment, watching him breathe, peace etched into his tiny features.

He had been missing his mother. I had been missing my wife.

The thought squeezed at something inside my chest. I didn’t know how to fix this. I didn’t know how to bring her back. But I was working on it, taking the right steps. I just needed a few more days.

When I finally returned to the living room, Maria was waiting. She hadn’t even checked on Isaac. Not even a glance. The anger increased several folds.

The moment our eyes met, she stood, her face glowing with rage. I ignored her and walked toward the kitchen, tugging at my tie as I grabbed a glass and filled it with water. She stormed in behind me, trying to get my attention.

I didn’t look at her. I gulped the water with my back to her, ignoring every movement, every sharp exhale.

Once I was done, I walked toward the hallway, headed for my room. But Maria blocked the path, standing directly in front of me, arms spread out.

I stopped and gave her the floor. Let her say whatever she had bottled up.

She inhaled deeply, clearly trying to calm her fury. If only she knew what was boiling inside me. If only she could feel the fire I had been swallowing for weeks.

My expression didn’t change. Boredom was written across my face as I watched her dramatic display.

Then she signed.

“What is going on?” Her fingers moved aggressively, her face red with emotion, her eyes wide and accusing. She was fuming.

Still, I didn’t respond.

She signed again, angrier this time. “This is the second time you’ve turned me down, Elias. What the f**k do husband and wife do if not f**k?”

Ah yes. I forgot to mention, tonight wasn’t her first attempt at seducing me.

The first time had been a few nights ago. I had returned home exhausted, only to find Isaac crying uncontrollably, asking for his mother again. I was livid. I ordered my men to search for Maria, but she was nowhere in the house. Turned out she had gone to the boutique, again.

I was fuming, but I set it all aside to take care of Isaac. That same night, he came down with a fever.

Later, Maria returned. I heard her in the kitchen, then in her room. I said nothing. I was too furious to even look at her. I went to my office to continue working.

Minutes later, Maria walked in.

She was wearing lingerie that covered practically nothing. Not a word escaped her lips. She simply sank to her knees in front of me, reaching for my belt.

I grabbed her, lifted her up, and threw her out of my office. I locked the door. She banged on it repeatedly, calling out to me in anger, but I refused to open it.

And now here she was again. Throwing a tantrum.

“Are you not going to say anything?” she signed, stomping her foot like a spoiled child.

I stayed silent, watching her carefully. Under the weight of my stare, I saw her shift. The anger began to dissolve, melting into nervousness. Fear crept into her eyes.

Good.

Because I had a lot of questions for her.

And tonight, I was going to get some answers.