What in the holy lord was he doing in my room?
The question kept bouncing around in my head as my eyes scanned the scene.
Dave, sitting comfortably on my bed like it was his personal throne.
Usually, my gut instincts were a mess, but today? Oh, I was right on target. And for once, I didn't feel like celebrating my victory.
As expected, the hot-headed bull did not back down but took a different approach.
Dave sat on the side of my bed, his legs stretched out, as his eyes raked over the screen of his laptop.
Crossing my hands over my chest, I narrowed my eyes in what I hoped was a deadly glare.
But of course, instead of intimidating him, my stupid brain had to turn against me.
Instead of staying focused on my anger, my eyes started pointing out the ridiculously unfair details of his face.
The sharp, annoyingly perfect line of his jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows when he blinked, and that infuriating calm in his expression, like he owned not just my bed but the very air I was breathing.
Seriously, who told him it was okay to look like that while trespassing?
And yes, this was trespassing.
Just because the door was unlocked didn't mean he could barge in and make himself comfortable. If he had at least broken the knob, I'd have had some dramatic reason to yell.
But no.
There he was, sitting like the world's most relaxed criminal, legs stretched out on my bed, laptop balanced on his lap as if my duvet was made to be his personal office space.
His eyes moved lazily over the screen, and I hated that even the sight of him reading looked… graceful.
Like the sort of thing you'd see in an ad for a luxury watch or overpriced cologne.
I crossed my arms tighter, narrowing my eyes, determined not to notice the small crease between his brows.
It wasn't even a proper frown, just a little line that appeared whenever he was focused.
Unfortunately, now that I'd noticed it, I couldn't unsee it. My brain was a traitor, my eyes were helping him, and my mouth was seconds away from saying something I'd regret.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying my best not to let my voice waver a bit.
He did not move his gaze from the screen as he replied, "Reading."
God, why does his one-word answer always infuriate me?
I took a deep breath, collecting every ounce of strength in my body to not throw my slipper on his face.
Knowingly or unknowingly, he always finds different ways to annoy the F-out of me. Not only that, like the cherry on top, his calm expression mostly caught me off guard.
It always left me wondering how someone can be so unreactive even in a dire situation, let alone me, who always reacts to the simplest thing.
I wanted to face palm at my such bad self-control.
Focusing on the man sitting in front, I decided to overthink afterwards. Schooling my expression, I asked, "I did not remember inviting you into my room, Mr. Morris."
His eyes stopped in the mid way. I raised my eyebrow.
Finally, getting a reaction from you, my cold-hearted celebrity husband. A smile curved on my lips, which I quickly hid the next second.
This time, I did not wait for him to react; instead, I walked in his direction.
Stopped when there was a safe distance between us. Resting my scrutinizing gaze over him, I again pointed, "Also, sitting on someone else's bed is not what I expected from you."
His jaws flexed as his grip over the device got strong.
I was literally jumping inside seeing him getting affected by my words. He waited for a moment before setting aside his laptop.
Getting up from the bed, he closed the distance between us.
Though I had a need to step back but I kept my legs unmoved.
He was trying to prove his power over me using his height, but I won't let him this time. I met his gaze, jutting out my chin in defiance.
Something shone in his eyes, but before I could figure it out, it disappeared. He opened his mouth as his cool yet affirmative tone froze my body, "Your room?"
He raised his one eyebrow almost felt like if he was mocking me, but I did not give out and just nodded in response.
The corner of his lips slightly curved into a devilish smug before he stated, "I bought everything in this apartment with my own money. Even the apartment."
He paused as his eyes raked over me from head to toe, judging me.
My hands flexed in response as he completed, "Then I don't even know on what cause you are calling my bed as yours."
I swear to God, if I had not promised Grandpa Albert to help him heal Dave, I would have thrown a punch in his guts and a kick to his private part.
The audacity of this person to say that I was living in his house. Technically, it was his house, but did I have a choice in this?
If it were not for his health, I would not even wish to see his face. I could bear everything but not this.
I already harmed my self-respect by taking in all his rude and cold comments and actions, but not this time.
With this thought, I looked him in his eyes and replied with the same smug, "Oh yeah? Then I should not be here at all."
I turned on my heel, walking towards the door, not giving him a chance to react.
My hand reached for the handle of the door when a sudden pull forced me to get away from the entrance.
The next second, I saw myself being sandwiched between the door and Dave himself. His eyes burned from fury, but as his eyes lowered, his orbs turned a shade darker.
It took me moment to realize at what he was staring at...my chest!