My Flirtacious Husband

Popping yet another couple of raisins into her mouth, Genevieve said, “When I was chatting with

Cooper just now, he asked me what I wanted to eat and said that he’d order some takeout. I reckon it

should arrive in a bit.”

Armand’s eyes narrowed when he heard that and appeared to be a little displeased.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

“That must be the delivery.” Genevieve was about to set herself upright when she felt Armand’s hand

on her shoulder. He motioned for her to remain seated and went to get the door himself.

Standing outside was the same receptionist who had brought up their takeout at noon.

The receptionist had both her hands full on either side of her. When she saw Armand at the door, she

immediately presented the things she had to him. “I believe these must be yours, Mr—”

“I did not order these,” Armand cut her off curtly. “Just get rid of them.”

Stumped, the receptionist had no time at all to react as the door shut in her face.

Fishing out the delivery note from her own pocket, she reviewed the address several times and was

quite positive that she did not get it wrong.

Armand’s rejection left her quite baffled.

Returning to the living room once more, Armand pulled Genevieve into his arms again, and while he

did that, he made a call to Golden Restaurant to inquire about the menu for the day. He also took the

time to follow up with Genevieve to see if she had any preferences.

Genevieve did not ask about what became of the takeout Cooper had ordered either and only

conveyed her desire for a couple of dishes and desserts that she had a hankering for.

Both of them then resumed watching the movie wordlessly. While they seemed extremely intimate

huddled together the way they were, they were as emotionally disengaged as strangers living in their

own worlds.

By the time the takeout from Golden Restaurant arrived, it was already well past eight in the evening.

The movie was almost upon its climatic finish. Not wanting to miss out on the action, Genevieve

brought the tablet into the dining room and watched while she ate. As a result, she got so spooked by a

terrifying scene that caught her off-guard that she fumbled the cake she did not hold firmly enough onto

herself.

“Can’t you continue this later? It’s not as though the movie is going to get away from you somehow,”

Armand commented.

Skirting around the dining table, he retrieved some napkins to help Genevieve clean the cake off her

clothes, some of which had landed close to the collar of the casual wear she had on.

Her skin is of an even more buttery consistency than that dollop of cream.

Owing to his proximity, Armand was able to pick up on the scent of that icing, as well as the subtle

fragrance that lingered upon her body.

Peering up slightly, he saw that there were also some traces of cream left on the corner of Genevieve’s

lips. Finding that devastatingly tantalizing, he leaned in to lap that off with his unfurled tongue before he

smothered her lips with his own.

Neither resisting nor reciprocating his advances in kind, Genevieve simply sat stiffly where she was.

Slipping a hand around the small of her back, he attempted to pull her even closer to deepen that kiss,

only to find the soft hips that he had previously fondled before to be unwelcoming as a piece of rock to

the touch.

It was akin to being brought back to his senses with a douse of cold water from above, and a surge of

irascibility and exasperation roused within him as he met Genevieve’s pristine eyes.

Relinquishing his hold on her, he stood back up and massaged his own temples aggressively with his

slender fingers. “Go ahead and hit the showers. The housekeeper will come by tomorrow to get the

dining table cleared up in the morning,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“Oh, okay.” Smilingly, Genevieve tossed the napkin onto the table before she strolled off to the

bedroom with the tablet in hand.

Judging from how tautly the soft napkin she left on the table had been scrunched up, Armand could

infer the extent to which she had held back just now.

That only compounded upon his vexation.

Armand did not return to the bedroom again. Instead, he went to a guest room where he spent time

sorting out his mail until midnight.

After he took a shower, he sat by the bedside and turned on the phone with the damaged screen

belonging to Genevieve once more.

As he went through the contents of the topmost piece of the notepad, he revisited the two occasions he

had made physical contact with Genevieve since he came home today. Little by little, the overt lack of

responsiveness from her unyielding body caused his eyes to darken.

The next morning, Armand was roused by his own biological clock. Having freshened himself up, he

changed into his suit and stepped out of the guest room.

Dagna Peerson, the housekeeper from Swallow Garden, had arrived quite early. Per Armand’s

instructions, she had seen to the preparations of breakfast in accordance with Genevieve’s

preferences.

When Dagna saw Armand, she immediately bowed in greeting. “Mr. Faulkner.”

The thought of Genevieve needing to be waited on made the presence of the housekeeper in and

around the place these coming few days unavoidable, so Armand grunted at her in acknowledgment

before he sat down to eat.

Before he went out, he left the housekeeper with this. “There’s no need to wake Mrs. Faulkner. Let her

rise at her own leisure.”

“Understood.” Dagna bowed even more deeply.