Chapter 7
Being magnanimous, Emmanuel cast aside his displeasure upon finding the apartment and bringing in his luggage. The unit was enormous—more than twice the size of his three-bedroom home—and lavishly decorated. The four-bedroom apartment felt like a maze on first inspection.
However, Emmanuel noticed that although fully furnished, the apartment lacked everyday consumer goods. This suggested she probably didn't live there regularly. He mused, "Rich people sure love wasting things, huh? I shared an eighty-square-foot home with two family members, while this woman bought a two-hundred-square-foot apartment and left it unoccupied. If her grandfather hadn't forced her to marry, and she hadn't needed this place to 'keep' me, it probably would have stayed empty forever."
He scoffed at his own thoughts. "Wait, 'keep me'? I sound like I'm living off her. That's not it! I just needed a woman to spend my days with—a mutually beneficial arrangement. Besides, I consider this much the same as paying rent."
Of the four bedrooms, only the largest contained multiple closets filled with brand-new clothes. This must be her room. There was an array of shirts and coats, but only three pairs of underwear—all white or black cotton. He thought, "What a waste of a body like that. Why doesn't she wear something spicier?" Despite this, Emmanuel had no interest in touching her clothes and chose the furthest bedroom as his own. Knowing Mackenzie's aversion to men, he decided to keep his distance.
His stomach rumbled. Entering the kitchen, he found premium cookware and equipment, but no food! "Seriously? What's the point? Am I supposed to eat a frying pan?" He decided to visit the nearby supermarket. Unable to return to his family, he would make this place his home. So hungry, he bought a bun before beginning his shopping.
Back at Terence Group, the meeting ended, and Mackenzie checked the time. It was past nine. Her mind on work, she walked to her Bentley. The driver started toward the family mansion.
"Stop!" she called out mid-journey.
"What's the matter, Ms. Quillen?" The driver braked and asked politely.
Mackenzie didn't answer. She'd just remembered her marriage and Terence's warning against returning to the Quillen family mansion before giving birth. "A woman should be where her husband is; it's tradition," she thought. Regardless of her status, she had to live with her husband.
"Turn around. Take me to Yociam Residence."
"Yes, Ms. Quillen." The driver, Mackenzie's only remaining male driver, remained silent, knowing discretion was essential to keeping his well-paying job.
It was past ten when Emmanuel returned to the apartment. Leaving the lights on, he didn't realize Mackenzie was home; the apartment appeared as tidy as before. Sweaty from shopping, he removed his shirt and headed to the bathroom, freezing upon opening the door.
Wide-eyed, he stared at Mackenzie in the tub, speechless. She was enjoying a bubble bath, her legs and pink toes visible. Even through the bubbles, her figure was stunning, her skin shimmering.
Thump. Thump. Emmanuel's heart raced, ten times faster than before. As a gynecologist, he'd seen many women, but never felt this way. Mackenzie was different.
"Are you done staring? Do you want me to carve out your eyes?" Instead of screaming, she threatened him icily. She hadn't locked the bathroom door, a habit from living alone, and regretted it now.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Quillen. I didn't know you were back." Goosebumps covered Emmanuel as he fled. Leaning against the wall, he gasped for air. "Any second longer, and I'd probably be dead. This is the problem with blitz marriages. You don't know the other person's habits. Her eyes were terrifying, but my God, that body was unreal. To think even I, a gynecologist, would feel this way."
Meanwhile, in the tub, Mackenzie clutched her chest. Though she'd played it cool, she felt on edge after he left. "I can't believe a man saw my body! Sure, he's my husband, and he wasn't creepy, but still! I feel so grossed out! I knew getting married was a bad idea…"
She sighed. "What if it's all on purpose?" Always distrustful, she suspected ulterior motives after Emmanuel passed her grandfather's tests so easily. "He probably knows I'm rich but pretended not to care because Grandpa was testing him." She refused to believe in selfless men, but lacked proof.
After her bath, Mackenzie entered the living room. Emmanuel, aimlessly pressing the remote, looked up and tensed.
"Ms. Quillen, from now on, could you please put on some underwear after your bath?" he requested sincerely.
What man could resist Mackenzie in a thin nightgown? Even Emmanuel, with his professional detachment, felt his temperature rise.
"Hmph! It's not like I knew you'd be waiting for me," she retorted icily. "What woman wears underwear after a bath? It's such a hassle!" She loved her carefree life, and a husband made things unbearable.
"I'll go to my room," Emmanuel said, escaping. "She's too cold. I thought I could win her over slowly, but I overestimated myself. I don't know what to say to her! How am I supposed to live with her?" As Beatrix had predicted, he was wavering.
Then, he heard a loud thud. Mackenzie was kneeling on the floor, in pain. Seeing her loosened collar and lack of undergarments, Emmanuel felt his soul captured.
"Ms. Quillen! What's wrong?"