In Love With My Bully-Chapter 103: The Miscommunication Olympics

She smiled playfully. "I’m seducing you. Isn’t it obvious?"

"No, no, it’s very obvious," he said quickly, "I mean, I know what you’re doing. I’m just... wondering why you’re doing it."

Queen sat there, stunned, staring at Drake. Her heart was thudding uncomfortably against her ribs, not quite anger, not quite embarrassment—just... confusion. Raw, honest confusion.

"I... Didn’t you want this?" she asked. The words sounded shaky.

Drake blinked. Slowly. "Is that a trick question?"

Queen frowned, trying to maintain her usual unbothered exterior, but her brow gave her away, twitching upward in suspicion. "You have to want something. I assumed this is what you want."

"Let me get this straight," he said, dragging a hand through his curls. "You think I chose to marry you... because I want to fuck you?"

She didn’t respond. But her silence did. Loudly.

Drake’s mouth fell open in pure disbelief. "You gotta be kidding me."

Without warning, he reached for her hips and lifted her off his lap.

"I married you," he said, grabbing his shirt off the couch, "because I didn’t want you to marry that asshole. Which I knew you would’ve done. All that matters to you is Numero Corps and control."

Queen opened her mouth, but her jaw just hung there for a beat. That wasn’t an answer she’d prepared for. That wasn’t the Drake she expected. She blinked, unsure which emotion to pick—hurt? Defensive rage? Hormonal confusion?

"Then what do you want?" she asked finally. "Because people always want something."

He turned halfway to face her, shirt in hand, exasperation etched into every line of his handsome, frustrating face. "Nothing," he said. "I just tried to save you from yourself."

She stared at him. And for the first time, Queen Numero felt small.

"Wait! I... I..." She swallowed. "I’m sorry."

The words came out bitter, sharp, unfamiliar. Her whole body seemed to flinch around them.

Drake paused, his shirt half-on.

"It’s okay, Queen," he said gently. "I mean, I’m not saying that, you know... I wouldn’t want to...you know... with you..." he paused, wincing at his own words, "...but not for the reasons you think."

Queen narrowed her eyes, grabbed the nearest pillow, and chucked it at his head. "You had to ruin it!" she shouted.

The pillow hit him squarely in the face.

He pulled the pillow away, laughing. "Girl... I’m a man. You throw your goddess self at me in silk and expect me to do what... count the stars?"

She groaned and flopped onto the couch, covering her face with both hands. "Oh my God. Get lost."

"I think I should’ve waited like... two more minutes before being a gentleman," Drake muttered, chuckling as he finally got his shirt over his head.

"Maybe you should have," Queen murmured. "Now I kinda feel embarrassed."

Drake turned to look at her, eyebrows raised with genuine curiosity and a dash of amusement. "You really would give yourself out that way?"

He wasn’t just teasing anymore. There was concern and disbelief too as if he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the Queen Numero being vulnerable for even half a second.

Queen sighed, and gave him that sideways shrug she did when she wanted to seem nonchalant but was actually bleeding on the inside. "I’ve never had people do things like this out of the goodness of their hearts," she admitted. "They always want something. An audience with my dad, a contract approval, a job, money... Chay thinks I don’t know when people are trying to take advantage of me," she said, "But what I do is, I take advantage of them first."

He chuckled, though there wasn’t much humor in it. "Always business-minded."

Queen arched an eyebrow. "You married a CEO, not Cinderella."

"Yeah," he nodded, flopping back on the couch beside her. "And I’m definitely not Prince Charming."

"What are we going to do with ourselves for the next few days?" Queen finally asked, rubbing her temple.

Drake turned to her, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Work from our honeymoon?"

Queen snorted. "I like the way you think."

*****

At the Numero Mansion... a modest but elegant reception had bloomed in the garden. There were small clusters of family and close friends sipping cocktails and nibbling on hors d’oeuvres. The press had been shut out thanks to Nita Numero, who had practically tackled the wedding planner with her phone and ordered a cancellation before any paparazzi could sniff drama.

Nita moved through the garden, a glass of champagne in hand and a fixed smile on her face. But her real target wasn’t hors d’oeuvres. It was Chayara.

She found Chay by the table of drinks, rearranging flutes of champagnes and glasses. Her expression was a tragic mix of heartbreak, disbelief, and extreme self-control. She looked like she’d aged a decade in twenty-four hours.

Nita slid beside her. "So," she said, eyes forward, "are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Nothing happened."

Nita raised a single, unimpressed brow. "Oh come on. Queen cancels her marriage to Liam at the drop of a hat, and suddenly she’s married to Drake? What happened? Did she spin a wheel labeled ’Eligible and Convenient’?"

"I think Queen should be the one to tell you that, Aunty," Chay said, crossing her arms.

Nita turned slowly to face her, giving Chay the kind of look that could curdle milk. "Start talking," she said in a low, menacing whisper, "or I will come over to your apartment and mess everything up. I will put the blues in the middle of the pinks, I will change your curtains to mismatched patterns, and I will rearrange your bookshelf. And worst of all, I will hide a rotting fruit somewhere you can never, ever find it."

Chay’s mouth dropped open. Nita watched the dawning horror on Chay’s face with a satisfied smirk. "You didn’t think I know?" she said sweetly. "You’ve been standing here for the past ten minutes, sorting the glasses on the bar by height. Every time someone takes one from the middle, you twitch, then start all over again."

Chay blinked and looked down at the table. Sure enough, she’d lined up the champagne flutes again from tallest to shortest without even realizing it. She groaned and dropped her forehead.

"Fine! You are mean!" she said, straightening with a dramatic sigh, finally surrendering to Nita’s gleeful tyranny.

"I know," Nita replied, too cheerfully for someone who’d just threatened domestic terrorism. "Now spill."

Chay looked around, as though the roses and chandeliers might be wired for sound, then leaned in. "We found Liam cheating last night."

Nita gasped, clutching her pearl necklace. "Oh my God! Richard was right!"

Chay gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Yeah, well, Queen still wanted to go through with the marriage anyway."

Nita blinked. "I’m sorry, what?"