Desired by the Billionaire Playboy

Chapter 2

Emily's pov





On a normal day, I would not have accepted my best friend's offer. I had never really been a party animal and became even more reserved after getting hitched. But tonight was not just about my anniversary. 







Grandma was dying.







She was bedbound, and the doctors said they were doing everything they could to treat her, but on every visit, I could see the light dimming in her eyes in real time; my heart cracked each time. I had hoped that this dinner would distract me, and he would be here for me, only to be abandoned yet again.







I obeyed the caller's instructions like my life depended on it. I arrived at the hotel, and Wendy caught me in the lobby, hooking her arm into mine.







"I'm so glad you came, girl and–"







She looked down disapprovingly at my wedding ring. It reminded me of the first time she saw it. She laughed and said, "All right! All right, I fell for your prank, now where is the real ring?"







It took a lot for my self-esteem to recover from that one, and I don't think I've really healed from that.







"Doesn't that ring ever get too tight for your finger?" She said, hooking her arm with mine and leading me towards the elevator. Once again, I was reminded why I didn't spend much time with Wendy anymore. Yes, my marriage wasn't perfect, but she wasn't helping by constantly poking holes into it. And she was single too, so maybe she was just insecure that I had a man and she didn't. 







Yeah, maybe that's it.







"Wendy, the ring has always been too small. I told you that Brad accidentally got something that was a size smaller than my finger."







She nodded, "Yeah, 'accidentally',"







I frowned. "Wendy, if you're just going to badmouth my husband all night, why don't I just leave? You have other friends to hang out with, so you should be fine."







"No! Please stay," she clutched my hand. "Fine, I won't talk about your husband at all, happy?” 





“But on one condition? She added."







"Which is?” I asked with an accusatory stare.







She stopped walking.







"Don't talk about him either," she warned. "I love you, Em… I really do... But sometimes I find it hard to invite you to anything, not just because you always say no, but you never fail to ruin the vibe by talking about that man."







"Me?" I asked, sincerely flabbergasted. 







She nodded. "That's true, you always tell us about how your man could treat you better... How he did this and that to you, and then we console, only for you to go right back to him. Don't you think that makes us look stupid?" 







We started moving again until we were in front of the elevator. She pressed the button while I was still stewing with my thoughts, thinking of how to defend myself.







"Nobody's perfect, Wendy. We've also had some falling out. But we patch it up later, right?"







She shrugged, "I guess we do; you're right, no relationship is perfect. But some things are just simply unacceptable. If he makes you complain and whine all the time, then it's not a happy relationship with a couple of bumps, but rather, a rocky one with a few rest stops."





My heart began to beat in my stomach as if it had changed position. However, I still kept my cool.







I was about to say something to defend my husband yet again; that was when the elevator doors separated, unveiling something that made my jaw drop in an instant.







My husband, Brad and my younger sister Becky, their bodies molded together and their lips glued so deeply that they were exchanging saliva. I stood without moving. It was like watching a horror movie I couldn't turn off. They were so engrossed with making out that they didn't even notice my existence.







It was when Brad's fingers started gathering the hem of her dress that I could take no more, and I screamed. 







"Brad!" 







He tore his face away from Becky. What came from his mouth wasn't an apology. Instead, he looked at me like I was the gum stuck under his shoe and asked, "Did you follow me here?"







l was stunned, and it was clearly written on my face. I froze as if I had been glued to that spot, and I watched the elevator close up. Everything was in slow motion, and my ears rang with high-pitched sounds.







Just then, there was a text on my phone. It read, "It's not what you think, I'll explain everything to you later, but just go home now."







My legs buckled, and if it wasn't for my best friend holding on to me, I would have collapsed on the floor. 





I read the text over and over again, my eyes glued to my screen.







Tears began to form in my eyes and roll down generously. People who passed by had different variations of looks, from concerned to irritated. Most, if not all, were probably wondering why a full-grown woman was bawling her eyes out like a toddler. Wendy was tenderly stroking my back as she pronounced every curse under the sun at Brad.







By the time I was back on my feet, at least literally, I felt so embarrassed for myself. Breaking down like that in public, where other people could see me. 







How humiliating!





I looked at the text again and wondered if I was in some nightmare that didn't want to end.







As if to torment me more, the scene of Brad kissing Becky flashed back in. When they broke off the case, she looked at me; she hadn't said anything, but she had this satisfied smirk on her face.







As for me, I was trying to grapple with reality. 







All these years, I had poured everything into this man; my blood, sweat and tears. I gave them to him, and what did I get in return? Crumbs of affection! 



I never saw a problem with him. Growing up, my parents always told me in a million ways and one that my younger sister, Becky, was the center of the universe, and I just had to deal with it.