Dumped My Cheating Husband, Married a s*x God

Chapter 10

“I’ll call you back,” I muttered, ending the call and slipping my phone back into the pocket of Adrian's oversized trousers. He kicked the door shut behind him with his heel, the bags rustling against each other as he made his way toward the living room.

"What is all that?" I asked, pushing myself up from the couch. My legs still felt wobbly, but I managed to stand without using the wall for support this time. Progress.

He set the bags down on the coffee table with a soft thud, then straightened, running a hand through his dark hair. "Clothes."

I stared at him. "You went shopping?"

"I had my assistant pick them out," he said, as if that explained everything. "I told her your size and what you'd need."

"Your assistant?" I echoed, walking closer to inspect the bags. They were from high-end boutiques I recognized—designer labels that made my own wardrobe look modest in comparison. "Why didn't you just have her deliver them? Or better yet, just let Maira bring my clothes from home?"

Adrian's expression didn't change. "I told you. I don't like people in my house."

I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. The movement made the shirt I was wearing—his shirt—ride up slightly, and I quickly tugged it back down. "You're too petty, Mr. Vale."

"Adrian," he corrected automatically, his eyes following the motion of my hands with an intensity that made my cheeks warm.

"Fine. Adrian." I rolled my eyes, but there was no real bite to it. "You're still petty."

He said nothing, only gestured toward the bags with a slight tilt of his chin. "Look through them."

I sighed, dropping to my knees on the plush carpet beside the coffee table. The first bag I opened contained what looked like loungewear—soft fabrics in muted colors, things meant for relaxing indoors. I pulled out a silk camisole in a pale blush pink, holding it up to the light. The material was so thin it was practically see-through, the delicate straps barely wider than a ribbon.

"Are you serious?" I held it up higher, turning it so the overhead light shone straight through the fabric. "I can see my hand through this."

Adrian settled onto the couch behind me, his long legs stretching out as he leaned back, watching me with an amused glint in his eyes. "Is there a problem?"

"It's transparent!" I protested, waving the camisole at him. "What am I supposed to do with this? Parade around the house like I'm wearing nothing?"

He smiled then, slow and deliberate, the kind of smile that made my stomach flip in ways I didn't want to examine too closely. "There's no need for you to cover up, Selena. Not here. Not with me."

My mouth opened, then closed. The casual possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I quickly busied myself with the next bag to hide the heat creeping up my neck. "You're impossible," I muttered, though my voice lacked conviction.

The next bag held more of the same—delicate robes, tiny shorts that would barely cover anything, another camisole in cream that was somehow even more sheer than the first. I made a show of huffing and complaining, but secretly, I couldn't deny the quality. Everything was soft to the touch, clearly expensive, chosen with care even if the choices themselves were... revealing.

"Did your assistant pick these out, or did you?" I asked suspiciously, holding up a pair of lace-trimmed shorts that I knew would ride up the moment I moved.

"She made suggestions," Adrian said evenly. "I approved them."

I snorted. "Of course you did."

But then I reached the third bag, and my breath caught.

Inside, wrapped carefully in tissue paper, was a gown unlike anything I'd ever owned. I pulled it out slowly, my hands trembling slightly as the fabric unfurled. It was a deep emerald green, the color of old forests and precious stones, with a neckline that dipped in a graceful curve and a skirt that flowed like liquid silk. The bodice was intricately beaded, tiny crystals catching the light and scattering it into prisms across the room. The sleeves were sheer, billowing slightly before tapering to fitted wrists, and the back...

I turned it over, and a soft gasp escaped me. The back was completely open, held together by a delicate lattice of crystal strands that would cross from shoulder to hip, leaving the spine bare.

"Oh my God," I whispered, clutching the gown to my chest. "Oh my God, Adrian."

I didn't care that I sounded like a giddy schoolgirl. I didn't care that I was supposed to be composed, sophisticated, a CEO who didn't squeak over pretty dresses. I squeaked. I actually squeaked, bouncing slightly on my knees as I held the gown up against myself, imagining how it would look.

"Do you like it?" Adrian asked, and for the first time since I'd met him, there was something uncertain in his voice—a hint of vulnerability that made me turn to look at him.

"Like it?" I repeated, my voice pitching higher than I intended. "Adrian, this is—I mean, look at it! Look at the beading! And the color!" I stood up, holding the gown against my body and twirling slightly, the skirt fanning out around my bare feet. "It's perfect. It's absolutely perfect."

I was already imagining it—the auction in Italy, the grand ballroom, the way the lights would catch the crystals and make me glow like some kind of emerald goddess. And the necklace. Ana Lee's piece, the one with the tiny pearls and diamonds embedded in delicate chains. It would sit perfectly against the open back, the pearls cool against my skin, the diamonds catching the same light as the beads on the gown.

I turned to face him fully, the gown still clutched in my hands, my eyes bright with excitement and determination.

"I'm going to Italy" I said, "and now, I'm thinking, that I would wear this to the auction in Italy. Ana Lee's piece is being auctioned in three days, and I absolutely have to be there. It's—"

"Italy?"