Chapter 32

Bethany seemed to be very direct. She never asked anything on purpose, and she never did anything that could make me angry.

The house appeared to be quite large. On the first floor, there was a large living room, and on the second, there were two bedrooms. Each bedroom had its own bathroom as well as a closet. There were also two office rooms. One for Ranold, where he spent most of his time, and the other for relaxing. I spent my time there completing homework. It was bright and airy, with a soft couch and armchair. I enjoyed sitting there and taking in the sun's rays or the view out the window. Ranold never came to me there, and I was relieved to have found a place where I could relax alone.

Bethany arrived every day. She worked as a maid, cleaning the house, tending to the garden, and assisting me in the kitchen. She was a master of all trades. Despite this, she rarely spoke to me. She could ask or make a suggestion, but she was mostly silent. And nearly unnoticed.

We spent the first day in a new house with Ranold. I mean, how could we not, right? It was self-evident. He left for the day, but returned late at night, just as I was getting ready to go to bed. He kissed me right at the bathroom door, with my hair wet and in my bathrobe. We had spent the night together, but I awoke alone in the morning. Then I got a message from him saying he'd be gone all weekend. So I had complete freedom to sleep as much as I wanted on Saturday morning. And on Sunday as well.

Monday arrived far too quickly (as it always does). It was early in the morning when I awoke to the sound of Bethany vacuuming the first floor. I sat down on the bed. Alone. The birds were chirping outside, so I went outside and rested on the terrace in the warm autumn sun. I would have stayed even longer if my stomach hadn't started singing a hungry song. I sighed and walked down the stairs, briefly waving to Bethany, who was wiping the shelves in the living room. I brewed some tea and exited the living room through the large glass doors into the garden. In the garden, there were two chaise lounges, and I sat on one of them in the shade.

'I wish there was a pool,' I thought as I sipped my tea.

My life was like a fairy tale without Ranold Hamilton. A luxurious home, a maid, a fridge stocked with various dishes, and an abundance of great clothing. The weekends were a little exhausting, though, because I had to unpack everything the movers brought from our previous apartment. It may appear simple, but I had a lot of work to do. And Bethany was of no assistance to me. She just followed me around, waiting for me to put the thing somewhere so she could clean it. As you can see, even from a distance, Ranold Hamilton caused me a lot of problems. So, my Monday morning routine was completely justified.

I was about to get up from my seat when I heard a click behind me and then the man's voice, "Yes, you, hey! You! You must now stand! Go!"

I shivered as I turned my head to see a black man with a gun. He was a young man. Too young, in my opinion. Perhaps even my age. I quickly stood up. I wasn't afraid even though he was pointing his gun at me. His movements, posture, and even facial expressions were all phony. After all, judging by his behavior, that young man seemed to never kill anyone. He had only recently learned how to hold the gun properly. He was like a rookie to me after New York and Chicago, not to mention my husband, whose hand never wavered.

"Hey, you, stupid rich bitch! Go to your house and bring me all of your money!" When Bethany appeared behind him, poking her finger into his shoulder, causing him to turn, he poked the gun into the air in front of me. "What?"

I knew it was my chance when he turned his head back. I couldn't stand up to more powerful opponents, who would shoot me without hesitation if they saw a hint of determination on my face, but I could try. And I smacked him in the groin with my leg. He wheezed and twisted, and I disarmed him by removing a gun with my hands, then pushing him in the stomach, and finally knocking him down by sitting on him and pressing the gun against his forehead.

"Please! Please don't kill me! Please!" He screamed and begged. "Please! Let me leave! I just wanted some money! Please!"

When I looked up at Bethany, she nodded. When I stood up, the man bolted like a whipped dog.

"Crackpots!" He yelled as he climbed the fence and vanished into the neighbors' garden.

"You did an excellent job," Bethany said as I handed her the gun, which she immediately wiped clean with her rag. "You didn't even need my assistance."

"Assistance?" I asked, confused.

"Yes. Ranold Hamilton hired me as your personal lifeguard here," she said. "As he said, you can handle minor issues on your own."

***

'Can handle minor issues on my own?'

Hit.

'Minor issues?!'

Hook to the right.

'Handle everything by myself?!'

Return the right foot.

'Ranold Hamilton, you're a jerk!'

"Break!" Wendall lowered his hands, drawing closer to me, who was barely breathing and sweating from the training. "You're thinking about something else, boy. When you are fighting with someone, remember to keep your cool or you will make mistakes."

"Yes, sir," I replied, wiping my forehead, and removing my boxing gloves.

"Ten minutes, then continue," Wendall said as he stepped away from the ring, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sat on the ring and began wrapping my wrists in bandages. The band-aid had loosened slightly, so I had to tie it tightly. I did the same with my ankles, then stood up and approached the tightrope, resting my arms on it. I was looking at the men who were fighting on the other ring. The fight was hilarious. They were both strong, tall, and determined to win. Wendall and a few other men cheered on the fighters. I chuckled.

"How are the things going?" I turned around when I heard a familiar voice behind me. It was my husband.

I clenched the tightropes, trying to look him in the eyes rather than at his naked torso. I've seen other men before. I was in a fight with them. Why couldn't I sit still when I saw my husband dressed similarly? I was dressed in a top and shorts, while he was dressed in only shorts. We were both barefoot on the ring.

"Well," Ranold said, taking a stand. "Show me what you've learned. I'm hoping I didn't overpay Wendall."

I felt a strange arousal inside my chest. Ranold smiled at me, and I wanted to smack him across the face. And I took a step forward. The fight started. If you ever asked me what my favorite part of my life was, I would definitely say this. Hit after hit, and I felt as if something deep within me was being liberated. All of the emotions I felt in New York, Chicago, Alaska, and elsewhere. Everything he ever made me feel, I returned to him with every punch, every knock, and every smash. I continued to hit and punch him while he only defended with his hands, legs, or body, hissing and wheezing. I felt so free, finally having the chance to exact my vengeance. Not the whole thing, but something. When he let down his guard, I knocked him down and sat on his stomach, raising my arm to deliver a final punch.

"Strike," he said suddenly, and I froze with my hand above his head.

I roared and smacked the ring next to his head, breathing heavily. My heart was racing so quickly that I could hear it in my head.

"I... won't..." I wheezed angrily as he squinted slightly and smiled mysteriously.

"Don't you like it up there?" He said, and I drew my hand back, puzzled, staring at him.

Even though his hands did not touch me, I felt a light shiver on my back. I became conscious that I was sitting on my husband's naked torso, squeezing it with my legs and feeling the heat and strength of his body. I shuddered as I remembered Alaska. I had just been furious, and now, after his words, I was ready to burst into tears and run as far as I could. However, not from my husband. He took advantage of the situation and grabbed my waist, shifting the position. With a short thud, I was now the one beneath him.

"But this one you like better," he said, not about the fight, and I shuddered as I felt his strong hands around my waist and his hot sweating body between my legs.

I bet if Wendall didn't speak the next thing, I'd be moaning right there, not understanding what was going on with my body.

"My ring is not your bed, kids. Get the hell out of there! Leave it alone and go home to get laid," Wendall smirked and raised his hands, and Ranold smirked back.

"Don't get angry, Wendall," my husband said as he stood up.

I sat on the ring, arms around my shoulders.

"Did you see him do it? How did he hit him? He kept punching him... What a nutcase... Is he the omega? ... Imagine how cool it would be to have sex with such a crazy boy... He's definitely good at it... So much enthusiasm and effort... He doesn't even need a reason... If you mess with him, he'll beat the crap out of you... What a wacko... It's better to get a grip on the kid..." These were the words I heard from the people gathered around the ring.

I could hear them whispering to each other. I could sense the mix of feelings in the air. Someone wanted to suffocate me, and someone else wanted to fuck me. I could sense their intentions and was terrified. I tried to block out the persistent whisper with my hands, but it seemed to spread even further into my mind. I wasn't insane. I didn't act like a jerk. I didn't want them to screw me over. I didn't want them to be interested in me. I didn't want them to see who I was. I just wanted to vanish. I lost control near Ranold, and those people saw it. I wished to vanish from this world and cease to exist. I was embarrassed and frustrated because they saw all of my rage, fury, and shame when I was on the ring with him.

'Please... someone... Save me...' I begged on the margins of my mind, when I felt someone's hot palm on my head.

I suddenly felt so comfortable and relieved. I was finally free of those irritating voices and my nagging thoughts. I finally sighed deeply, feeling the storm deep within me calm down. For the first time, I was truly grateful to my husband. Despite the fact that I had just finished beating him up, his hand was still as hot as it had been. And his attitude never changed. "You are my husband." And I've always been.

"Let's go home, Olivier," his calm voice shut the others off.