Filed to story: When His Wife Can’t Forgive
Pierre nodded. “Thank you.”
Gemma turned and ascended the stairs.
Afterward, Gemma’s interaction with Pierre cooled significantly. She ceased initiating conversation, avoided making eye contact, and handled tasks independently.
Even when she couldn’t reach something, she refused to ask for Pierre’s assistance. If he called out to her, she acted as if she hadn’t heard and would walk away to avoid him.
Pierre tried to concentrate on his duties, but Gemma’s overt distance was unsettling. It had been more than a week. Since Gemma had shown interest in him, they had never endured such a prolonged estrangement.
Pierre racked his brain but couldn’t pinpoint his misstep. On a rainy day, Pierre picked up the thin blanket she had thrown at him and approached her bedroom door. He wanted to make amends and discover where he had gone wrong. As he nudged open the door, he overheard Gemma on the phone.
“Corey, could you send a few bodyguards over?” Her voice was subdued, matching the dreary rain outside. “It’s so dull being alone.”
At this, Pierre stopped in his tracks. She was requesting Corey to send others, suggesting she wanted to replace him. A sharp pang of rejection hit him, and he quietly shut the door before descending the stairs.
Just then, Corey called. His voice was thick with intoxication. “Come pick me up.”
Pierre asked, “What about Miss Hampton?”
“One less bodyguard for her won’t make any difference. Stop wasting time.”
Grabbing the car keys, Pierre left.
Upon arrival, Pierre found Corey’s private room door slightly open, sounds of fervor emanating from within. Half an hour later, Corey appeared, disheveled, supporting a woman in his embrace. Pierre trailed behind them.
Leaning into Corey, the woman flirtatiously said, “You nearly exhausted me. I want a gift.”
Corey, known for his generosity with women, replied, “Choose an apartment on River Road. It’s yours.”
The woman gasped in delight. “Really, Mr. Hampton?”
“Just an apartment. Why would I lie?” Corey affectionately pinched her cheek and kissed her. The woman excitedly proposed, “Valentine’s Day is coming up. I’ll wear a new outfit for you, okay?” Corey responded with a charming laugh.
Pierre, however, tuned out their chatter. Valentine’s Day? A vivid memory flashed-Gemma had bashfully suggested that they have sex on Valentine’s Day.
Pierre suddenly realized his mistake. Talia’s wedding was on Valentine’s Day, the same day he had promised to spend with Gemma. No wonder Gemma was upset, given her temperament. A laugh escaped him.
Corey glanced over. “Drive, will you? What’s with the laughter?”
Regaining his composure, Pierre started the car, accelerating away, leaving Corey speechless.
When they arrived home, Corey stumbled out and began to vomit. Pierre remained in the car, asserting firmly yet respectfully, “Mr. Hampton, I’m heading back. I’m concerned about Miss Hampton being alone at home.”
Corey swore as he retched, “Damn you-ugh!” Pierre closed the window and drove away.
There were no new bodyguards at the house. Alone and uneasy, Gemma had fallen asleep in a chair on the bedroom balcony. Pierre removed his jacket and draped it over her. Gemma awoke with a start, her frown deepening upon seeing Pierre.
“Who let you into my room?” she demanded.
Pierre met her gaze with intensity. “I’m here to apologize.”
At his words, Gemma’s resentment only intensified. As if he’d ever admit he was wrong.
Pierre reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, exposing her delicate features. Gemma pouted, yet she didn’t withdraw from his touch. As his hand caressed her cheek, Pierre’s voice filled the spacious room.
“I’ve decided not to attend the wedding,” he said.
Gemma responded irritably, “Why not? It’s your best friend’s wedding. If you miss it, you’ll regret it.”
Didn’t Like It
“I had more important things to do that day,” Pierre said.
Gemma pushed his hand away, clutching his coat. “Who-“
The balcony was chilly, so Pierre shut the doors and windows before carrying Gemma back to the bedroom and laying her on the bed.
Gemma burrowed under the covers, wrapping herself tightly. Pierre didn’t insist on her facing him.
They remained silent, but after more than a week apart, they finally slept in each other’s arms again. Gemma’s sleep was noticeably deeper.
The next morning, Gemma found the space beside her empty. She frowned as she entered the bathroom, noticing the toothpaste had been squeezed out and her toiletries were neatly arranged. Every detail bore Pierre’s touch. Her clothes for the day were laid out as well. Reluctantly, Gemma put them on and stepped outside to find Pierre waiting. Ignoring him, she walked past.
Pierre blocked her path, causing her to bump into his chest. Annoyed, she rubbed her nose. “What are you doing?”
Her temper flared, and she felt on the verge of tears.
Pierre knew she wasn’t really hurt, just venting her frustration at him. He actually found it a good sign, much better than when she ignored him. He adjusted her collar.
“Breakfast is ready. Would you like to eat now?”
Gemma replied sharply, “No.”
“You need to eat breakfast, or Mr. Hampton will blame me if he finds out.”
“Let him blame you then. There are plenty of other bodyguards. I’ll just ask my brother to replace you with someone I prefer.”
Pierre smiled. “But you’ll have to eat breakfast before you replace me.”
With a blend of persuasion and insistence, he carried Gemma downstairs.
He presented her with several boxes of socks to choose from.
Gemma picked one absentmindedly.
Pierre knelt to put on her socks. Her slender ankle looked fragile in his hands, making him feel like a giant. He sighed.
Gemma asked, “What?”
“Everything about you is so petite,” Pierre said. “I didn’t realize it when I kissed you before, but now I feel like I’m bullying a little girl.”
Gemma responded sarcastically, “Oh, so you used to kiss and sleep with giants?”
Pierre was left speechless.
Gemma pulled her foot away from his touch and gave him a playful kick.
After helping her put on her socks, Pierre stood and gently pinned her to the sofa.
Gemma recalled his words from the previous night. Her anger had subsided. She only struggled lightly.
Pierre kissed her softly on the lips. Her lips were tender, inviting him to savor the moment. He didn’t rush.
“Since you were upset with me, last night was the first time I really slept.”
Gemma responded, “Do you think I’m naive? If you hadn’t slept for a week, you’d be far worse off.”
“I might actually be close to death,” Pierre chuckled. “My job is to protect you. Without you around, I feel insecure.”
Gemma snorted. “You’re just trying to charm me.” Yet, his flattering words had their effect. Though she turned her face away, her features softened.
Pierre found her response encouraging. He then kissed her more deeply, enjoying her taste. As their breaths mingled, he whispered boldly, “I want to hold you in my arms again as we sleep tonight.”
Gemma murmured something indecipherable, caught between agreement and resistance.
Pierre drew back slightly, his intense gaze capturing hers. “You promised me you’d be with me this Valentine’s Day.”
Gemma’s cheeks flushed. “No, I might break that promise.”
Pierre persisted, unfazed by her words. “That day, you have to spend the entire twenty-four hours with me. I’ll make all the plans, and I promise it will be unforgettable.”
Gemma’s face turned a deeper shade of red. She had once thought this stoic bodyguard was straightforward. How wrong she was. Every aspect of him was exasperatingly compelling.
It had been a while since they had kissed, and now Gemma found herself wanting more. She leaned forward to kiss him again.
Pierre kissed her deeply for a while, then suddenly lifted her and carried her to the dining table.
Gemma’s thoughts raced with inappropriate images. She questioned, “Isn’t the sofa better? The table seems a bit hard.”
Pierre looked at her quizzically. “What?”
Gemma froze.
Realizing her misunderstanding, he laughed. “I brought you here to eat breakfast. What were you thinking?”
Gemma’s cheeks flamed. “I… I wasn’t thinking anything.”
Her face remained flushed as she attempted to compose herself. She shifted uncomfortably. “This chair is really hard.”
Pierre knew she was exaggerating but played along, smiling as he slid a cushion under her.
Gemma cleared her throat. “That’s much better.”
Pierre teased, “We could try the table sometime. It might not be as uncomfortable as you think.”
Gemma’s cheeks deepened in color. “I don’t understand what you mean.” She had always considered herself rather indifferent to sex, yet her thoughts were surprisingly vivid on the subject.
One thing puzzled her. “Why did you stop kissing me earlier?”
Pierre handed her a glass of milk. “I thought you didn’t like it since you kept pushing me away. Didn’t you say I shouldn’t force things?”
Gemma was taken aback. She hadn’t actually pushed him away. Didn’t he understand she was just playing hard to get? She muttered, “You never used to follow rules so closely.”