Page 32 of Prince Cheating Charming

I stilled, hearing a ringing in my ears as I carefully put my fork and knife down.

“You told my wife I should have married someone else?” I asked, my voice sounding strange to my ears.

“Y-yes,” Mom said, and she must have caught the expression in my eyes as I rose to my feet.

“You are hereby ordered to the beach house,” I ground out.

If this is what she admitted to saying to Delilah, what else had she been telling my sweet, gentle wife? What else had Delilah been putting up with because she loved me?

My stomach burned with shame.

“It’s perfectly comfortable,” I said. “You can even take your tennis instructor with you. But I gave you a warning, and you disrespected my wife anyway, so you will be at the beach house until further notice so you can’t bother her anymore.”

CHAPTER 13

Delilah

Trying to avoid my husband, I had eaten supper with Magnus and Roger in their spacious home attached to St. Constance’s chapel. Magnus was in one of his self-improvement moods, and declared that he was turning over a whole new leaf, becoming a new man, etc., and as a result we had eaten aggressively healthy salads for supper. Roger’s face as he chomped down on a mouthful of Swiss chard and spinach was one of the most humorous things I’d seen in a while. We spent an enjoyable evening planning improvements to the chapel and St. Constance’s many shrines.

Even though Alexander had thoroughly selfish motives for attending services, his newfound devotion to our patron saint had sparked general countrywide interest in her, and lots more people were visiting her shrines and leaving her gifts.

It was a lovely evening, but when I woke up around midnight I was absolutely starving.

Yawning, I put on my slippers and walked down to the kitchen. The palace kitchens were well-stocked and this late I’d have the place to myself.

At least, that was my goal.

Unfortunately, I had barely flicked one light on, only a tiny pool of warm yellow glow in the huge, cavernous kitchens, when I heard a noise at the door and saw my asshole husband standing there in sweatpants and with no shirt on.

“What are you doing up?” I asked unpleasantly, taking a plate out of one of the cupboards.

“I heard you watching the baking show,” Alexander said.

“What, are you listening at doors now?” I asked sourly, piling cubes of cheese and crackers on my plate.

He didn’t respond to that, misery etched on his high cheekbones.

“I want to be in there watching with you,” he said.

“If you want to know what happened during decorative bread week, you can log onto Netflix yourself,” I retorted, piling a cracker high with different cheeses.

Damn, I was really going to miss Norjava’s food. Gesaint’s selection couldn’t remotely compare. Oh well. I might as well take advantage in my last few weeks here.

“The fun part was watching with you. What do I need to do to make that happen again, Delilah?”

I almost choked on my cheese as he met my eyes.

“Go back in time and unfuck those other women, I guess. Get your dick unsucked.”

There was a tense, painful silence.

“How many times did you even cheat on me?” I asked. “Every day?”

“No!” he choked out. “Just—just now and again. I don’t want to remember it,” he added in a low voice.

“And I didn’t want to see it,” I put in. “You made every happy memory feel like a lie.”

“it wasn’t a lie, Delilah,” Alexander insisted, his face looking white and strained. “Every moment with you was the best one.”

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