The CEO And His Ambitious Model Chapter 09

The CEO And His Ambitious Model Chapter 09

I was too embarrassed to say a single word.

Not until Theo reached up and started undoing the cufflinks on his shirt.

My face turned bright red, red as a boiled lobster, and my eyes darted around the room wildly.

“What… what are you doing?”

Help! Why was I stuttering now too?!

Theo curled his beautiful lips into a lazy smirk.

“Finishing what we didn’t finish that night.”

“I’ll count to three. If you don’t agree, say something.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

I moved my lips.

I wanted to ask if we weren’t moving a little too fast.

But before I could make a single sound, my lips were sealed again by his burning kiss.

He held the back of my neck and kissed me deeply.

Urgent, hungry, like he wanted to devour me whole.

When I was dizzy and breathless from the kiss, my wrists suddenly tightened.

I looked down, and my cheeks burned even hotter.

Tied around my wrists was a black silk scarf.

The very same gift I’d bought for Theo.

His voice was low and raspy as he whispered in my ear, “This is your punishment for not giving gifts properly.”

Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains.

The room was filled with warmth and intimacy.

Theo and I got our marriage license on a snowy winter day.

There was none of the family opposition Will had warned me about.

His family even apologized profusely to me, saying the mix-up at the Met Gala had been entirely their mistake.

Theo had originally planned to court me publicly, properly.

…

As we walked out of the civil affairs bureau, he asked me,

“Mrs. Whitmore.”

“Now that you’ve successfully married into an Old Money family, what’s the first thing you want to do?”

The weather was clear and bright, a fluffy cloud in the sky that looked just like a little dog.

I smiled. “I want to go to a pet store.”

In the end, I picked out a little golden retriever puppy that had run straight toward me the second I walked in.

I gave it a beautiful name: “May.”

Theo asked me curiously why I’d chosen that name.

I smiled and said, “It’s a secret.”

Watching it wag its tail happily at me,

it felt like it overlapped with the little stray dog in my memory.

I’d known from a very young age that being poor was a terrible thing.

You couldn’t own anything that was truly yours.

Clothes were hand-me-downs from other people.

Dogs were, too.

It was a rainy day.

I’d saved a dying little puppy from a trash can.

When I brought it home, my mom didn’t want to keep it, but I’d begged and pleaded until she gave in.

To fatten it up,

I’d often collect leftover bones and food my classmates had thrown away at school.

People saw me and whispered, “Isn’t she embarrassed?”

I thought, no, I wasn’t embarrassed.

I was only seven years old, and I already had the power to keep a little dog alive. Who knew how successful I’d be when I grew up!

The puppy tried hard too. It grew round and plump and happy.

I raised it like that for a year.

Then one day, I came home from school, and it wasn’t waiting for me at the door like it always was.

My mom, annoyed by my constant pestering, finally admitted, “Your cousin came over, saw it, liked it, and took it back to the city with her.”

I cried so hard my eyes were swollen shut.

“It was my dog! How could you give it away without asking me?”

My mom yelled at me, “Your cousin married well! That dog will have a much better life with her than it ever will with you!”

“Besides, what’s wrong with currying favor with your cousin? If she’s happy, maybe she’ll think of our family when a good opportunity comes up! Stop being so childish!”

But I still had a terrible feeling in my gut.

The next day, I stole five dollars from my mom and took the bus to my cousin’s house.

Even more than ten years later, I still remember that scene clearly.

My cousin and her family were gathered around the dining table, eating happily.

On the table was a pot of steaming meat.

I heard my own voice, trembling.

“What… what are you eating?”

That was the first time in my life I’d ever lost my temper.

I flipped the table over. I bit my cousin’s arm as hard as I could.

When my mom arrived, she beat me within an inch of my life in front of my cousin’s family.

I watched her grovel and apologize to them,

muttering, “The child doesn’t know any better. It’s just a dog. Is it more important than family?”

My cousin looked at me with disdain.

“Maybe when she’s lucky enough to marry into a rich family, she’ll grow up and understand me a little better.”

Back then, I’d really wondered: does marrying a rich person turn you into a terrible person like my cousin?

But later, when I really did marry into an Old Money family,

I still thought the same thing.

My cousin was truly worse than an animal.

The day my injuries healed, I dug a hole and buried its bones.

The May breeze carried a faint chill.

“I heard kittens and puppies can shed their skin and come back to their owners. You have to come back.”

“When I’m rich, I’ll raise you properly again.”

The foxtail grass swayed gently in the wind.