Page 6 of His Infatuated Wife

It's the longest I've stayed away from her, and every day of it has been hell.

She's all I can think of even when I'm at the office.

I'm out having business meetings or I'm working out at the gym, and none of this makes a difference.

I'm thinking of her 24/7, and the worst part of my day is when I'm in bed, and I have to fight against the urge to jerk myself off to thoughts of her.

Why the hell can't I stop thinking about her?

A call to my office gives me an alibi to end my torture. Joyce handles everything related to the budget and finance of the music department. She says she's found the perfect housing arrangements for our cast, and she wants me to be there when she gives them the good news.

"You think you can make it?" Joyce was my father's secretary, and I've always thought she was the better part of my inheritance. She's one of the few people in my life who isn't intimidated by my wealth. She says it as it is, just like what she's doing now.

"It's been a while since they last saw you. Nobody wants to work for an absentee producer."

"I've been busy," I lie. "But you're right. I'll be there."

"Meet me at Dressing Room C? We'll start with Riri."

I must've said something before I hung up.

Or at least I think I did.

Because the truth is, my mind had shut down the moment I heard her name.

Damn her.

Damn her.

Damn her.

My mood is still black as hell when I get to the university. It pisses me off that the mere thought of seeing her again has my heart thumping like mad.

What the hell is she doing to me?

I enter the dressing room, and the first thing I see is her.

In.

Nothing.

But.

A.

Fucking.

Towel.

It's almost like life is having a shitload of fun torturing me.

Damn her. Damn her. Damn her.

I know the only thing to do now is to walk out of this room.

But instead, I find myself staring.

Because I want her, dammit.

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