"BIANCA, 'sorry to disturb you…"
I closed my sketchpad and turned to Hanna who hadn't realized was already standing in front of me.
I gave her a smile. "What is it, Hanna?"
The woman was in her late thirties with freckled skin and ginger hair. Her light green uniform matches her green eyes.
Hanna had already been with us for a week. So far, she's been a great help to me.
"It's Gideon."
"What is it?" My forehead creased. "Is he already dressed?"
Gideon would be going to the office today. I looked at the watch on my wrist. He would be fetched by his father's secretary by ten.
Hanna pursed her lips. "Gideon said he needs your help with his tie."
Of course, Hanna knew that Gideon and I were married. But so far, she had been not asking me questions as to why I wasn't hands-on with Gideon.
I blinked. "Oh. Okay. I'll be there." I put my sketchpad on the coffee table and excused myself from her.
I knocked first before entering the walk-in closet.
"Hanna said you wanted my help." I cleared my throat as my eyes sucked him in. My forehead automatically formed a line.
He was still topless and was only in his boxers.
His eyes went to me. "Yeah. I needed you to help me get dressed."
I frowned. "What? Don't tell me you suddenly forgot how to put on clothing?"
Since last week, he no longer needed my help getting dressed. I had guessed he had adjusted to being on wheels. The other day, he had already gone to his first therapy session with the hospital's physical rehabilitation center. Of course, Amelia had been there with us.
A corner of his lips tugged up in an amused smile. "Funny, wife. But no, I just wanted your help this time." His head turned to the open wooden cabinet. Hanging there was a collection of his dress shirts and thousand-dollar coats.
"I didn't know what would look good on me," he said, moving his eyes back at me. "Should I go for black or white? How about gray? Why are you looking at me like that?"
I hadn't realized my lips were parted in disbelief. I shut my mouth and blinked. "Well, this is new," I said, suppressing myself from laughing.
"What's new?"
I shot my brow. "You. Not knowing what to wear."
"Was I that confident before?"
I scoffed. "Confident? That's an understatement, Gideon."
You were so fucking cocky it irritates the hell out of me. You used to walk as if you owned the world, Gideon.
Instead of voicing that out, I walked to the cabinet and picked up a white dress shirt, black slacks, and his thousand-dollar Brioni coat.
"Here," I said, handing him the clothes I chose for him.
“Help me put it on.”
"Why should you ask for my help when I know you can do it on your own?"
He slightly raised his thick eyebrows at me. His hair was still wet. Some strands were falling on his forehead.
"You're my wife. It's your responsibility to take care of me, right? For better or for worse. In sickness and in health."
I inhaled a sharp breath. "You know I hate you."
"But that doesn't change the fact that I'm your husband. And you have a responsibility to me."
My lips parted. Why do I feel like he was suddenly the Gideon from the past? Manipulative, only the subtle, playful version?
"Fine." I pressed my lips. I picked up his slack and crouched down in front of him.
He had toned and muscular legs. His skin was not too light nor too dark. A perfect shade of caramel. His dark hair was already a bit long.
He slowly raised his left foot. I helped him put on his slacks.
"Raise your body," I ordered.
His hands went to the side of the wheelchair. I saw how the muscles in his arms flexed as he tried to suspend his body in the air.
In a swift move, I pulled up his pants up to his waist. I buttoned it before my fingers went down to the zipper.
I didn't know why I almost flinched when I touched the bulge in the middle of his legs. It was not as if I was a stranger to his body. I had already seen how big and strong he was. We'd fuck a couple of times.
My lips pressed when I remembered how he was always hard on me.
"Your shirt."
He shifted in the wheelchair and stretched his arm out.
He's got a perfect body. His shoulders were wide. He had all the muscles in the right places. Even his legs were bulky and hard.
I didn't know if he had been going to the gym before. But of course, he wouldn't have achieved this kind of body if he wasn't working out.
I just realized that I knew very little about him.
I started to button up his shirt. He had washboard abs. I stilled when I noticed a scar on his right chest. It was an inch long. I hadn't noticed it until now.
"What's wrong?"
"I didn't know you had a scar on your chest. I only noticed it now."
"Oh." He looked down at his chest. His eyes went back to me. "You haven't stared at my body when we have sex?"
His blue eyes were dancing in mischief.
I scoffed at him. "Of course, I don't. I hated you."
He pursed his lips. "How about me?" he asked, his eyes shamelessly staring at my chest.
I was wearing a sweetheart dress. I was crouching in front of him to help him tuck his shirt into his pants so my cleavage could be seen.
I felt my cheeks flush. Fuck. This was the first time I blushed in front of him.
"Stop staring at my boobs."
"Why can't I? You're my wife." There was a playful smile on the bastard’s face.
I scowled at him. "Just stop."
His eyes went to my face. "You're blushing, aren't you?"
"I'm not," I said, scoffing. "Why would I blush in front of you? Buttoned up your shirt. I'll get you a tie."
I went in front of his cabinet. I opened one drawer and chose a maroon-colored tie. I also opened his collection of watches and picked one of his prized Rolex.
When I went back in front of him, his amused smile still hadn't disappeared from his face. I cleared my throat and crouched to put on his tie.
"Bianca…"
"What?" I looked at him. His face was now serious.
"How long have you been friends with Charlie?"