Billionaire's Replaced Bride

Chapter 23: The Jealous wife

Ivanna

"We should get a new nameplate written 'Mr and Mrs Scott'," Christian tells me, staring at the old name plate of my apartment.

I look back at him, discovering him grinning at me while leaning back to the pillar. Shoving my phone aside, I focus back on him, after trying Irene's number for the third time.

I have been worried for her for an entire month. The last time I talked to her was the night before her wedding. Her decision was indeed shocking to me. More than that I'm surprised to find her ignoring my calls. What happened to this girl?

I scowl at Christian.

"You're weird," I shrug, leaving the nameplate aside and shoving the curtain from the window.

"You find me weird?"

"Of course, you are," I groan, opening the window and trying a look at the entire city.

"What makes you feel so?" He can't stop questioning. What should I say now?

"Sometimes you're fine. And sometimes --" I halt.

"And sometimes?" I hear his voice coming closer to me. "Bad?"

"No," the word escapes my mouth.

"Then what?" I feel his cosy breath near my neck, squirming away. "Tell me. I hate incomplete statements".

I tuck the curtain slowly while mumbling. "Scary"

"Yes," I shrug, recalling his actions from this morning."stop behaving that way please," my voice cracks for no reason. However, I wasn't going to say that. It slipped out of me.

"Like how?" He drifts towards me as if he's following me in each corner of the house. It makes me feel anxious.

"Nothing"

"There are a lot of things, huh?"

Clenching my jaw in annoyance, I immediately turned back, bumping into his chest abruptly. My eyes go wider.he is glued to me like a magnet. As I squint my eyes at him, he slams his both palms against the wall, pinning me between the wall and him. I groan.

"Complete it, Mrs Scott. I wanna know every single thing you expect from me," he smirks.

"Huh! As if you care"

"If u didn't care, we wouldn't be here in your favourite city, Mrs Scott. You would be screaming in the corner of Dallas and I wouldn't give a fuck about it," he tells

I shut my mouth immediately. A line of guilt crosses my mind as I look down.

"Do I scare you?" His voice is soft now.

"Sometimes," I try to be honest. In fact, I can't help being honest.

"When?" His eyes are still in me but I look down, his body is still pressed against mine.

"When-- when," I gulp down. "You are silent angry"
"What does this 'silent angry' thing mean?" He cracks up.

"When you're angry but don't scream and fight with me, but you whisper in a scary voice and the low- tone-- words make me-- I don't know"

"The same way I don't like your 'silent anger'?" He giggles.

Confused, I looked up at him.

"When you don't fight with me but cry in the corner, don't eat and sleep properly. Silent things are dangerous, right?" He asks.

I don't realise the gap between us is decreasing so much until our noses touch.

I nod

"That's why you cried this morning?" He exclaims.