Page 7 of The Sexy Billionaire

“Paige, wait, please, let me explain,” Michael calls out after me.

Let him explain? There’s nothing to explain. I turn around and furiously grab a baguette from the pile to my left and start hitting him with it. “You fucking cheating bastard,” I scream as I hit him with the French breadstick.

“Paige, ouch, stop it, would you, ouch.” He groans as he blocks the bread.

“Here I am mourning Lucia a world away, and you’re fucking the staff. I needed you and you weren’t there for me,” I scream at him. The tears begin to pour down my cheeks as humiliation sets in.

How could he do this to me? Why didshedo this to me? Who else knows at work? Because they sure as hell didn’t seem to be hiding their cheating.

“Babe, please, let me explain,” he pleads as he dodges more of my wrath.

“There’s nothing to explain. I hate you,” I yell as I pick up a new baguette and proceed to assault him with it.

“Would you stop it? I need them for tonight,” he yells at me angrily.

“Of course, you’re more worried about your precious food than you are about breaking your wife’s heart. Fuck you, you piece of shit,” I rage as I pick up the entire delivery of baguettes, throw them on the ground, and start jumping on them to be a petty bitch. “Fuck you,” I scream, losing my mind. How could I have been so stupid? He promised me he would never do this again, and yet here we are. He chose to stay home and sleep with the staff over helping his wife mourn the loss of her favorite person in the world. What an asshole.

“Paige, stop it! Have you lost your fucking mind?” Michael yells as he pulls me from the mountain of bread that I have turned into dust.

“Of course, I’ve lost it! You’ve been fucking our sous chef for who the hell knows how long, while refusing to sleep with me. Guess now I know why you don’t, you’re too fucking tired from screwing the staff.”

“It’s not like that,” Michael tries to reassure me. “Baby, I’m sorry, it was just sex, it meant nothing. I’ve been so stressed about making this restaurant a success, and you weren’t here, and she offered, I tried so many times to say no, but …”

Asshole.

“Just sex! If I knew I could be havingjust sexwith anyone I liked to help relieve my stress, I would have been. Thanks for forgetting to give me the fucking memo.”

Michael stills and stares at me in bewilderment, as if the thought that I could be sleeping with someone else was the craziest thing he’s ever heard. Misogynistic dick.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

I’m being ridiculous? He thinks that he’s the only one that can pull a side piece.

“You don’t think men find me attractive anymore? You think this ring stops them from wanting me?” I scream, holding up my ring finger, the image of Giorgio Fiorenzo flashing across my mind. “Let me assure you it doesn’t, but somehow, I seem to be able to say no to their advances.”

Not that Giorgio made a move. He’s engaged and not a cheating asshole like my husband, he was the perfect gentleman. Michael’s eye twitches at my statement and his left hand curls into a fist as if the thought of a man wanting his wife enrages him. “Men have needs that women don’t.”

Wow. I didn’t think I could be any more speechless or shocked than I was and then he quotes some alpha malewannabe’s bullshit he heard from one of the dumbass podcasts he listens to.

“And you think women don’t want sex?” I’m literally shaking with anger right now.

“It’s different for women,” he argues.

I can’t believe I’m arguing with my cheating husband that men need sex more than women, and that is why he is cheating on me.

“Let me explain something to you about women, we are simple creatures, most women want a hard, thick dick to fulfill their every need so they don’t have to use their vibrator to finish off because their cheating scumbag of a husband can’t get the job done,” I spit at him.

“Fucking bitch,” he curses under his breath.

“I’m the bitch?” I rage. “Fuck you.” I point at him, then turn around and find an onion and peg it at him, missing him completely, which is rather unsatisfactory.

“Stop throwing things at me, you fucking crazy bitch,” he yells at me.

“Not only am I a bitch but now I’m crazy too? Stop fucking the staff and maybe then I wouldn’t be acting like this,” I yell as I try to find something else to throw at him.

“Paige, I’m sorry, okay? We can get through this. Baby, please,” he pleads with me.

“How long?” I scream at him as I pick up a tomato and roll it between my fingers.

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