After Marrying My Boss

I bustled around in the kitchen. Although it was really exhausting to cook dinner for Michael after working for the entire day, I found it absolutely worthwhile at that very moment.

In all honesty, he had truly helped me too much in matters pertaining to my family. Regardless of whether he had any ulterior motives, the fact remained that he had lent me a hand at my lowest.

As I stood before the stove, stirring the soup, a smile unwittingly broke out across my face.

At some time, a pair of massive hands suddenly clamped around my waist. Michael's warm breaths tickled my neck as he rested his chin against my shoulder.

“What are you doing, Michael? I'm cooking here.”

However, Michael merely hugged me wordlessly without taking things further. It was the first time he was affectionate with me without any sexual intent. All at once, an inexplicable feeling spread through me.

“It suddenly occurred to me that we've never done it in the kitchen despite having been acquainted for such a long time. How about we try it tonight?”

All of a sudden, Michael's voice turned roguish after I had spoken. His gaze was sensual, while his words were depraved and shameless. Ugh! Is sex all he thinks about every second of every day? Doesn't he have better things to dwell upon?

I was truly flabbergasted at his train of thoughts. Nonetheless, I didn't dare comment on it to his face as the memory of how he tormented me until the wee hours when he was pissed off last night was still vivid in my mind.

“Stop messing around, Michael! The soup is going to boil over!”

His words just now caused panic to strike me, and I couldn't help musing, Is he for real? Don't tell me he really wants to do the deed in the kitchen? His imagination is really boundless...

Michael merely ignored me, his gigantic hands roaming up and down my body. At that turn of events, my heart skipped a beat. Good heavens! He's serious...

Bubble, bubble... As the sound of the soup boiling rang out, I glanced at the pot of soup that had started bubbling. “Stop it, Michael! It's very dangerous here in the kitchen!” I chastised urgently.

“What a spoilsport!”

Dropping his hands from me in a huff, Michael spun around and strode toward the dining table. His handsome countenance darkened as though he was offended by my suggestion.

Unfortunately, I couldn't be bothered about that right then. My only concern at the moment was to escape the imminent torture. I was still feeling the aftereffects of his frenzy last night, so I wasn't in the mood to play any more sensual games with him tonight. Instead, I merely wanted to have a good night's sleep.

Later, I carried four simple dishes and a soup to the dining room. Michael buried his head in the food without sparing me a single glance as though it was an entirely different man who flirted with me in the kitchen earlier.

Hah! So what if he doesn't want to talk to me? That's even better since I don't feel like talking to him either. Anyhow, he'll only speak of sex!

When I cleared the dining table after dinner, he had already retreated to the bedroom for a shower.

Wearily massaging my shoulder, I made my way to the bedroom as well. I was planning to go to bed after taking a shower.

The instant Michael stepped out of the bathroom, I glimpsed a shirt in his hand. It was the shirt he wore when he was hammered that night.

As soon as I spotted the white shirt, my expression stiffened. I again recalled the lipstick stain on the collar.

“I haven't had the time to send the shirt for dry cleaning, but I'll do it tomorrow.”

At present, I wasn't just his lover in this house, for I had also taken up the duties of a housekeeper. Doing laundry and cooking were all my responsibilities now that I was even in awe of myself.

“Wear a lipstick of a different color next time. This color looks awful,” Michael noted evenly, pointing at the lipstick stain on the collar.

“Mr. Shaw, I don't have a lipstick in that color,” I retorted indifferently as I lifted my head and met his gaze head-on.

Frankly speaking, the distinct rose-colored lipstick stain stung my eyes.

Don't tell me he thinks that it was me who left the lipstick stain on his collar? When did he ever see me wearing lipstick of that color?

“It wasn't you?” Michael regarded me in surprise upon hearing that, his gaze skeptical. “Who could it be if not you?”

I found his expression at the moment rather ludicrous.

Pfft... He doesn't know who left the lipstick stain on him, and he's asking me that? Isn't that absolutely ridiculous? Or are there a boatload of women around him that he can't even remember who left it?

“You should know the answer best, Mr. Shaw, so it's not me you should be asking.”

I stared at him with a cold expression on my face, my voice stained with displeasure.

“What's your problem, Anna?”

Michael eyed me with a frown, his gaze radiating irritation and his voice colored with rage.

“Nothing at all. I'm going to take a shower and go to bed. If you want to know who left the lipstick stain, just gather all your women and kiss them one by one.”