Michael's dilemma

Chapter 9

Michael's POV

As soon as I read Grandpa's message, I sent a text to Jason. Given that everyone would be busy preparing for dinner, there was no need to track Ambrose today. That task would have to wait until tomorrow.

I waited for what felt like an eternity before Freya finally walked into the house. I couldn't help but wonder where she had gone without a car. I gazed out the window, catching a glimpse of her face, they weren't the usual face she carried.

I looked away as I glanced at my phone [7:49]. I still couldn't get my mind off the name she had called that night. If I could think correctly, she was calling the name in her sleep with tears in her eyes.

"Mr. Smith," I heard her voice, which snapped me out of my thoughts as she knocked on the door before entering. My gaze rested on the short denim skirt she wore, and that was definitely the first time I saw her dressed that way. Well, I wouldn't call it attractive ; at least, not to me.

"Where on Earth have you been?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and impatience. "Besides, you won't wear that for the dinner," I added, my gaze drifting to the clothes she put on"My secretary has prepared what you'll be wearing for the party."

She didn't respond in her usual chatty manner. Instead, she nodded softly, her eyes cast downward, as she turned her back to leave.

"You know, you can't do as you please while you live in this house, Rogers," I said, my voice firm and authoritative, stopping her in her tracks. "You won't leave and come whenever you please. You'll still be my wife, regardless.

I watched as she exhaled a low, husky chuckle, and my eyes narrowed in surprise. What was so amusing? Did she actually have the audacity to laugh at me? The thought sent a spark of irritation through me. She wouldn't dare.

"Oh, I thought we didn't have business with each other's affairs," she spat, her voice trembling with anger and vulnerability. "Besides, Mr. Smith," she continued, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "I didn't think there was an audience, so why should I put on the facade?" Tears welled up in her eyes, and I could see the effort she made to suppress her emotions, due to the cousins' arrival.

Then I wondered, what had happened to her? What was behind the tears and the anger?

"Go get dressed for dinner with Grandpa. He wants to talk to us," I said, deliberately keeping my voice gentle and soft, like a soothing melody. She wasn't in a good mood, and I didn't want to fuel her anger.

"When will they leave?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a hint of desperation. "Your cousins... I need to... have my moment alone, and be myself." Her words trailed off, and I sensed a deep longing for solitude, a craving for a moment's peace.

"Miss Rogers. I know the contract doesn't state closeness in private, but our privacy has been breached. They'll leave in no time" I said and I wondered why I have to reply her. I wasn't obligated to reply her every questions.

"I told Jason to drop the dress in your room," I said, my voice neutral. "Alexis and Raymond have all left for Grandpa's home. You can let off all your anger." I watched as she glared at me, her eyes blazing with a fierce intensity, as if I was the sole reason for her anger.

She left momentarily and returned after a few minutes, transformed. Well,I'd say Jason was good with wears.

We walked side by side in silence, our hands not touching, our eyes not meeting. The tension between us was palpable, and I wondered what was going through her mind. No one was present to witness our awkwardness, but the air was thick with unspoken emotions.

All through the ride to Grandpa's, we remained silent. Emma's message came in, and I found my gaze glued to it. A part of me felt glad that she would also be present, but the rational part of me still couldn't shake off the anger I felt towards her.

"We're here," I said softly as the giant gate swung open, revealing the familiar grandeur of Grandpa's estate. I glanced at Freya and saw her eyes widen in awe, her mouth agape. Was she really that impressed by a house like this? I thought to myself, slightly amused.

We stepped out of the Rolls Royce and continued walking side by side, our silence a stark contrast to the lively chatter that awaited us inside.

"Grandpa," I called out as we entered the grand salon, where I spotted Grandpa and our nosy relatives, including Emma, seated and chatting around the dining table.

"Oh, here comes my little bro," Ambrose said, flashing his signature hypocritical smile. "Wow, it isn't even a minute since I arrived, we're so lucky to have each other." His words dripped with insincerity.

I remained silent, my gaze locked onto Emma's, wondering why I couldn't look away. I saw the pain lurking in her eyes, but I felt powerless to do anything about it.

"Grandpa, we meet again," Freya said, her voice like honey, soothing and gentle. Grandpa's face lit up with a warm, genuine smile as he greeted her. I couldn't help but notice that Grandpa seemed to have a soft spot for Freya ; his affection for her appeared genuine.

We got to the dining as the only two chairs remaining were the ones beside Emma. Either way, I ended up beside Emma while Freya sat after me. Making me in between the two women. Dinner of grilled beef vegetable and mashed potato was served. "Hmmm..so Michael, what are your plans after your marriage?" Grandpa asked as I rose my head, I realized all eyes were on Freya and I, awaiting my response.

"Of course, I shouldn't brag about my plans in the open. My wife and I have already discussed it," I said, placing my hand on Freya's, who smiled warmly.

"C'mon, we're family," Ambrose cut in. "Freya, I've been wondering why you never told your husband that you hate potatoes. You shouldn't be hard on yourself, come on." My cutlery clattered to the table as I lost my composure for a moment.

Why did Ambrose know so much about Freya? I turned to her, searching for answers, but her expression remained eerily blank. I placed my hand on her face, a gentle yet possessive gesture. I wouldn't be put to shame in a family gathering.

"I begged her to please Grandfather today. My wife has always hated potatoes, but..." I trailed off, sensing the tension.

"Of course not, Michael. She doesn't have to please me," Grandpa said in his deep, yet shaky voice. "Freya, what exactly do you want to eat? I'll have the maid prepare it." Freya waved her hand, urging him not to bother.

"Cousin, what kind of man asks his wife to displease herself?" Raymond chimed in, his tone dripping with judgment. I closed my eyes, losing my patience.

"A man who doesn't love his wife," Ambrose added, his words cutting deep. I dropped my glass of champagne onto the table, the sound echoing through the room. It was clear that this gathering was an excuse to poke their noses into my affairs.

"That's enough! No man will get married to a woman he clearly doesn't love," Grandpa cut in, his gaze fixed intently on me.

"Michael never showed this woman to anyone," Ambrose said, his voice laced with anger. "Everyone knew how he's never been interested in anyone except Emma. He never did anything useful for five years since Emma left him. While I was away, Michael never made himself useful. Grandpa, are you trying to say that you didn't think something was off here?" I let out a chuckle, feeling a sense of irony. Freya was present, and the least they could do was show her some respect.

"We love each other. Daily, he never stopped telling me how much he loved me. Yeah, I met him while he was still healing from his past relationship. But along the line, he healed and fell in love with me. I suggested not making our relationship public. Michael and I are married, why can't you all understand and give us the privacy that we seek?" Freya cuts in, confident yet, like her voice was also in pain.

I glued my eyes on her. I wanted to hold her and give her a hug in front of everyone. I wanted to make them believe what she had said. But I felt someone stand up beside me, I looked as I saw Emma with tears of pain etched on her face. As she managed to stand, she lost her footing, and without thinking, I grabbed her firmly, as if it was the only thing I could do. I didn't know what I was doing. I had just destroyed and spoiled everything Freya had said.

Ambrose let out a confirmatory smile, Grandpa was shocked, and I didn't want to look at Freya. "Michael," Emma whispered, as she grasped the white navy blue suit I wore. I was torn between two choices: Hold Emma or go kiss my wife to make her story a reality.