Chapter 130 Don't Mess With My Wife
Reese always kept her promises. When she mentioned that Malcolm had to laugh for half an hour, it was precisely timed.
Descending to the kitchen for a glass of water, Alyssa noticed Malcolm's strained expression and the minor twitching of his muscles—she had indeed heard him laughing earlier while she was engrossed in her video game upstairs.
Now with a moment to spare, she casually asked, "Malcolm, something funny must've happened earlier. You sounded really happy."
Malcolm shot her a chilly glare.
"Do I look happy to you?"
Alyssa shuddered at Malcolm's fierce gaze—it was as sharp as a knife slashing across your face.
She touched her cheek subconsciously, puzzled.
"So, what made you laugh?"
Malcolm desperately wanted to retort, 'Do you think I wanted to laugh?' But that would be too humiliating to share with her. He always seemed larger than life in her eyes, and knowing Alyssa, she would revel in his embarrassment, possibly teasing him about it for days.
His lips tightened, his eyes cool and distant, hands in his pockets, he brushed off the question.
"It's nothing. Go on with what you're doing."
Having finished his words, he headed up the stairs and straight to his room. Alyssa could only shrug, feeling a bit helpless. Maybe Reese hadn't managed to keep Malcolm in good spirits.
But that didn't make sense—Weren't the two of them just exceptionally close moments ago? How did the mood shift so quickly while she was barely a few rounds into her video game?
Scratching her head in puzzlement, Alyssa decided to let it go and focus on her game, aiming to match Reese's skill level.
When Malcolm entered the room, he found Reese on the balcony staring into space. Observing her from behind, he realized that her outward frostiness wasn't innate or intentional. She was just trying to protect herself from getting hurt, armoring her exterior to become impervious to pain.
Yet, she seemed to forget one thing: she was human too, a girl who deserved to be cherished, not a battle-hardened warrior suppressing her feminine nature.
He had been eager to confront her—no one had ever dared to play with him like that, and those who had attempted it would have faced dire consequences. But she was the only exception.
He wondered: what could he do? She was his wife, after all. He'd have to endure it.
He moved closer to wrap his arms around her waist from behind, but before he could even touch her, Reese was already on guard, lifting her elbow ready to strike his gut. Fortunately, he dodged just in time.
"It's me," Malcolm caught her arm gently, signaling his presence.
Reese turned to see it was Malcolm and retracted her arm with an apologetic note, "Sorry, force of habit."
Malcolm didn't bring up the earlier incident, partly to save face.
He sat down, lighting up a cigarette with swift motions of his hands, the slender fingers twirling the lighter expertly. Reese couldn't help but notice—not only did he have the looks, but his hands were attractive too.
She wasn't particularly fixated on hands, but like anyone, she couldn't resist a beautiful thing.
"Babe, can we be more honest with each other? You know everything about me, but I'm still in the dark about you. Can you give your husband some peace of mind? Otherwise, I wouldn't even know where to start looking if one day you flew the coop."
Malcolm's speech was casual, but his deep, dark eyes were intense with sincerity.
He was earnestly engaging in conversation with Reese, hoping she would trust him more.
Feeling the penetrating gaze of Malcolm's earnest, inquiring eyes, as if he wanted to see straight into her heart, Reese's heartbeat accelerated. She suddenly felt flustered and quickly broke eye contact; her voice notably strained.
"Just so you're aware, my family might come by tomorrow. Nancy and Dahlia are a handful, so brace yourself."
Malcolm frowned, "They're not good to you?"
It felt to Reese as if Malcolm was leaping to her defense, a show of sympathy that, frankly, she could do without Dismissing the sentiment with nonchalance, she muttered..."It doesn't matter to me whether they've been kind or not; they're just irrelevant people."
Malcolm, interpreting Reese's tone, figured out the strained ties she had with her family His gaze, filled with various emotions, lingered on the girl who, despite appearing upset, remained determined to protect her emotions.
"I get it," he said quietly.
Reese wasn't sure what exactly he 'got', as she hadn't elaborated, and he hadn't asked. When it came to handling the folks from the Brooks clan, she knew how to fend for herself.
The following day, which happened to fall on a Saturday, provided no escape from what was to come. With no work to attend to, Reese knew avoiding the inevitable visit from Nancy and Dahlia wasn't in the cards; they had clearly come prepared.
Next door, Malcolm was up early, passing on instructions to Justin in his study.
"I need you to cover for me on the Riverside project," Malcolm stated, his voice steady. "The details are in your email. Just follow the instructions and negotiate with the other party."
Justin was perplexed. "Mr. Flynn, weren't you supposed to personally handle that today?"
"Family from the Brooks side is visiting, and I'm worried they might take advantage of my wife."
While reviewing his documents, Malcolm conveyed his protective sentiment quite earnestly.
Justin was taken aback by the thought. "Mr. Flynn, is that really necessary? I think Reese can handle herself just fine."
Reese wasn't one to smooth-talk; anyone daring to cross her was bound to be left speechless in self-doubt.
"No," Malcolm insisted firmly. "My wife is delicate. What if her stepmother and sister start causing trouble and she gets hurt?"
Justin could not help but smile wryly to himself, thinking there really was no need; even without anyone's protection, Reese was not someone to be trifled with. But voicing this might earn him a ticket out, so he held back.
After all, wasn’t Mr. Flynn hailed as the ideal modern man, completely smitten with spoiling his wife?
With his tasks accepted, Justin made a swift exit. Reese, unbothered by the looming family interaction, slept in until nine, then spent some time tidying up and reinstalling the security software for her company to prevent any unauthorized access.
After completing her morning routine, she heard a voice from downstairs.
"Sir, young master, the Brooks are here."
Adapting to her new role, Reese would face the family drama head-on, but not without making sure her own castle was fortified first.
Five minutes had passed, and the members of the Flynn family slowly made their way downstairs. Even though the Brooks were certainly reaching up the social ladder by associating with the Flynns, Finn Sawyer was a man who took etiquette very seriously. Besides, visitors were guests, and they deserved to be treated with hospitality.
When Reese came downstairs, she couldn't help but notice Dahlia's striking attire, which included a dress with a daringly low neckline.
Especially when Malcolm took his seat, Dahlia's gaze appeared to be fixed on him, as if he were the man of her dreams.
Nancy, skilled in socializing, didn't bother to greet Reese.
"Dahlia, go say hi to Malcolm," she urged.
With a coy, demure look, Dahlia fixed her eyes on Malcolm like she was staring at her heart's desire, and managed a bashful, "Hello."
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
