In Love With My Bully-Chapter 113: Minimalist Monk

Victor narrowed his eyes. "You sure you want to start deceiving your husband this early in the marriage? It’s barely two weeks old. The cake hasn’t even digested properly."

"He’s not giving me a choice. I mean, I assumed we’d live in my condo. But nooo...he wants us to move into his apartment. The man lives like a minimalist monk."

Victor chuckled, rubbing his temple. "So his taste is tragic."

"It’s tragic and beige," she said, scandalized. "And now he wants to buy a house. Sweet, right? Except he wants it on his budget. His budget, Uncle Victor!"

"I think I like this Drake guy," Victor said with a sly grin. "He sounds... grounded."

"Grounded?" Queen repeated with a scoff.

Victor raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll send my best agent. She’ll reach out to schedule an appointment for you both to view some listings. I’ll work the numbers to make it look like it fits into his... grounded budget. But Queen, baby girl..." He leaned closer. "Please don’t tell your mother I helped you. She’ll skin me and use me as a rug."

Queen laughed, tossing her curls. "Oh, trust me. She’ll kill me too. We’ll be matching rugs."

*****

Drake stared at the email from Verna Real Estate on his phone with a look of quiet dread.

You are cordially invited to an intimate real estate soirée for our exclusive clientele. Enjoy a 3D presentation of elite properties while mingling over hors d’oeuvres and champagne.

He sighed deeply.

All he wanted was a house. A nice, functional, peaceful home where he and his whirlwind of a wife could actually cohabitate. A place with a garden he could read in. A kitchen he could cook in without tripping. Something normal.

But now there was a soirée involved. Champagne. Probably a violinist.

He RSVPed anyway, noting both himself and Queen would attend.

Queen. His wife. His legally wedded chaos.

She came and went from his life. Sometimes she showed up at 11PM with takeout and lingerie. Sometimes she disappeared for two days and they only saw at work.

She wasn’t cold. She was affectionate, warm, and breathtaking in bed. Their sex life was... explosive.

Drake forwarded the email to Queen’s inbox, though he knew full well she’d already gotten one , probably signed, sealed, and couriered by a champagne-sipping agent with gold-rimmed glasses. Her mother was part-owner of Verna Real Estate, after all. Nita likely designed the invitation and approved the wine list.

Just as he clicked send, his phone buzzed with a call from Chayara.

A smile, uninvited and a little sad, crept across his face as he answered. "Hey stranger."

"Hi," came her voice.

"To what do I owe this call from the blue?" he asked.

"I need to ask your advice... about something personal."

"Shoot."

"Can we meet up for coffee?" she asked. "At that spot beside Numero HQ?"

Drake nearly laughed. "You hate that place."

"I know, but it’s convenient for you. You’re at work, right? Plus, my business advisor says I need to start hanging out in nicer spots. He thinks that’s where I’ll find my ’target market’." Her air quotes were practically audible.

He chuckled, picturing her rolling her eyes as she said it. "Yeah, Queen mentioned something about your startup. Congrats, by the way."

"Thanks. So... fifteen minutes?"

"Alright. I’ll see you there," Drake said and hung up, staring at his phone for a few seconds afterward.

He hadn’t seen her since that night at her apartment. Since the kiss. A kiss that wasn’t about romance, not really. It was an apology, a farewell, a bridge he should never have walked across but did anyway.

Chay had always been the right kind of person. She deserved someone who would give her all of that back. Someone who would put her first.

But for him, it had always been Queen. Chaotic Queen who made him mad and aroused in equal measure. Queen who could never just sit still, who owned every room she walked into including his bedroom.

And now they were married... technically. A practical decision, an arrangement. Except their sheets said otherwise. So did his pulse whenever she walked by. Even her perfume distracted him for hours.

Fake or not, he didn’t regret marrying her. Not one bit.

Fifteen minutes later, Drake walked into the café tucked beside Numero HQ. The smell of overpriced pastries cheered him up.

He scanned the room. The place was packed. He didn’t recognize anyone. For a second, he thought Chay might have been to shy to enter all by herself.

He turned to look outside, wondering if she was lingering near the glass door.

Then, a hand went up in the far corner.

He squinted, then froze mid-step.

No. Way.

Was that... Chay?

He blinked again.

What in the name of glowing-up was happening?

He walked over slowly. As he got closer, the reality hit him in full force. That was Chayara.

And she looked like a supermodel. Her silk blouse shimmered under the pendant lighting, the ivory fabric draping gently over her curves, effortlessly sensual. Her hair fell just past her shoulders in soft waves, and her makeup gave her a moisturised glow. She even had sparkly earrings on, and around her neck was a delicate silver heart necklace that twinkled with every breath she took.

He had to literally sit down before he embarrassed himself.

"Chay?" he asked, genuinely dumbfounded, sliding into the seat across from her. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

"Hi," she said, a little shyly.

"What in the world is happening?" he asked, almost laughing. "You look... different."

"Blame Gi," she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. There was pride in her voice, even if she pretended otherwise.

"Gi?" he echoed.

"Yeah. My business advisor. Apparently, I have to look the part all the time. I feel like Queen. I haven’t even officially launched, and I’m exhausted."

Drake laughed. "I’m sure he gives you a day off once in a while."

"He says I haven’t earned it yet."

"Smart man," Drake said, impressed. Then he leaned in. "So... what’s troubling you?"

Chay paused, fiddled with her napkin. Then looked up, biting her lip. "First...I need a car."

"Okay..."

"And I was thinking... you’d come with me to shop for one?"

"Okay. Done!" Drake declared.

Chay smiled at him, her lips tugging upward with a fondness she didn’t bother hiding. His energy was infectious, always had been. "Second," she said softly, "I am a bit worried."

He immediately straightened, sensing the shift in mood. "About what?"

Chay paused, twirling her spoon around in her now-cold cappuccino. The milk foam had given up on life. "About my relationship with the Numeros now that I’m branching out."

Drake frowned slightly, confused. "Why would you worry about that?"

She hesitated, then spoke. "Do you think they’ll hate me if by some miracle my company actually takes off? I mean, what if we end up being competitors? I didn’t plan for that, but... you know how these things go."

Drake let out a breathy laugh. "Sweetie, that could never happen."

Her head tilted. "You’re sure?"

"Queen is happy for you. I know she may not always say it, but she’s impressed. Trust me, I’ve seen her proud face." He grinned, and Chay chuckled despite herself.

"I am too," he added.

Chay smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. It hovered at the edge, weighed down by doubt she wasn’t sure how to name.

Drake noticed. He always did. Without hesitation, he reached across the tiny table and gently placed his hand over hers. "Hey," he said quietly, his thumb brushing the back of her hand with comforting familiarity. "I know you’ve always been afraid that the corporate world might swallow you whole like it did your dad. But sweetie, your dad had... a lot going on long before he joined Numero Corp. You’re not him. You’re you. And you...Chayara...are the sweetest, most loving woman I know. The world needs to see your art, your ideas, your crazy-brilliant mind. Don’t hide it just because you’re scared it might shine too bright."

The warmth of his hand spread through her skin. She wanted to tangle her fingers into his desperately. Her heart fluttered at the edges of something she knew she shouldn’t name. Not anymore. She fought the urge, but her body leaned slightly forward before she could stop it.

And then.

"Hey."

Chay flinched.

Drake practically launched himself upright. "Uh, hi," he said, too quickly, retracting his hand.

Queen stood beside them, her eyes sharp.

"Chay..." she said slowly. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes!" Chay chirped. "I just came to ask Drake’s help in shopping for a car."

Queen blinked. "A car?"

"Yes." Chay cleared her throat.

"Why ask Drake? I can help you with it," Queen said, casually, though her words were sharpened at the edges with a hint of territorial fire.

"No offense, Queen," Chay said gently, "but whenever we go shopping, you have a knack for going overboard."

"Well," Queen said, shifting her attention to Drake and giving him a wide, suspiciously pleasant smile, "Drake is a married man now. He can’t be seen hanging around random women."