Chapter 110 - Sultry Smell (1/2)

Emily and Wyatt's Villa

The pitter-patter of the shower running in the bathroom relaxed Emily. She just arrived home from the state dinner and her toes were aching from the strangling confines of her pumps.

With her back against the ensuite door, she kicked her YSL strappy pumps off her feet, wiggling her toes for the first time of the night, before she unzipped her gown, pooling it on the floor.

”Cara Mia,” Wyatt whistled, a white towel wrapped around his waist. ”What a s.e.xy back you have, honey.”

Emily beamed when his warm lips touched her shoulders and his arms crawled from her waist up to her achy b.r.e.a.s.t.

She was removing her earrings, letting Wyatt explore her body when she saw his reflection in the mirror.

”What's wrong, honey?” she tweeted, looking over her shoulder to verify if the reflection she saw matched the face behind her.

Cupping her b.r.e.a.s.t, Wyatt's frown deepened. Three lines creased on his forehead. He molded his hands on the underside of her b.r.e.a.s.ts, raising her elbow above her head.

”Honey, have you seen your doctor? I could feel a lump on your left b.r.e.a.s.t.”

”Really?” She started cupping her c.h.e.s.t too but couldn't feel anything.

”I can schedule a doctor's appointment for you in the infirmary if you're uncomfortable going to your usual doctor. I know how news flies around you the instant you step out of those clinics.”

Still cupping her c.h.e.s.t, a hint of skepticism painted her face. She really couldn't feel a thing. Not even a raisin. ”It's ok. I have a schedule with my OB-GYN in a few days because this lady,” she points a finger to her chin, ”Needs to get her w.o.m.b checked.”

Scooping her from her seat, Wyatt carried Emily to their bed, gently laying her down.

”Honey, wait,” Emily protested. ”I'll brush my teeth first.” Today was her big-O, as in, ovulation day, and she didn't want a garlicky breath to come in between their baby-making. So she flew like a butterfly to the ensuite and prepped herself.

She was on her way out when she noticed Wyatt's dress shirt pooled on the floor. Picking it up to throw in the hamper, her nose crinkled when it caught an unusual scent.

Her heart hammered in her c.h.e.s.t. It hammered so painfully she thought she was having a heart attack. Her delicate fingers wrung on the dress shirt, and her eyes darted towards it when her sparkling engagement ring caught the chandelier's light.

With labored breath she forced herself to cry, but no tear fell out from her eye.

Placing the nauseating dress shirt on the sink, Emily stole a peek in the bedroom and saw Wyatt's sleeping form.

A scowl painted her face. Of course, the asshole was tired from f.u.c.k.i.n.g other women.

So she went back to the sink where the evidence lay flat. She checked every inch for whatever dirt it might caught: a lipstick stain, a carpet thread, or a s.e.m.e.n! She didn't care. She would find that incriminating clue and she would give him the pay back that she deserved.