In Love With My Bully-Chapter 63: The Chase Begins

Two weeks since the party, and I could tell Nita was avoiding me. I had my parents invite her for dinner; she gave some flimsy excuse. She wasn’t picking my calls, but she was replying to texts.

Her social media handle showed she was currently on vacation. And Martin brought reports from her guards weekly about her security. She didn’t need me, and she made sure I knew it.

She didn’t need to declare that she needed space; she took the space as harshly as she could.

When I went to her parents house again to see her, she didn’t deny me access; she just made sure she spent a few minutes with me and left me hanging out with her parents while she went God knows where.

I wasn’t in the mood for distance; she was carrying my child. I needed to be updated; I needed to know. I need to go for doctor’s visits. I needed to be carried along.

I arrived at the suite she was staying at the hotel. She had chosen a place about three hours out of town. Did she think that would stop me from finding her?

She glanced up briefly from the book she was reading, curled up in the armchair by the window. She looked peaceful and quiet, not even acknowledging my sudden presence in her room.

I crossed the room in long strides and yanked the book out of her hands.

She inhaled sharply and then exhaled slowly, like someone trying to calm their anger. Good.

"I was reading that." She said it way too calmly.

"I’m sure you were." I tossed the book onto the table and looked out the window.

"What do you want, Richard?"

That was a good question. What do I want? Why was I there? "You do not have the right to keep my child away from me." Okay, let’s go with that. Good excuse.

"Let’s not do this, Richard. I came here for some peace and quiet. If there is anything you need to know about the baby. I will let you know."

I started to speak but was lost for words.

"Right now, the baby is still safe inside me. And unless you want me to tell you how often I get cramps, heartburn, and nausea, I see no reason why we need to see or speak to each other. And this whole, poor, abandoned husband routine—a complete turn-off."

"Excuse me?" I scoffed. "You tell me one day that we have this perfect marriage, and the next you are asking for a divorce. I’m trying, Nita. I am trying to understand what we were."

"Our problem isn’t your lost memories. Our problem is in every decision you have made since the attack. Every disrespectful thing you have said to me. That’s our problem."

"You act like you are the only one who is hurting. I don’t remember who I was with, and instead of telling me, you push me away." I shouted.

Her expression faltered for one moment; I caught the sadness in her eyes. "Love cannot be explained. It can only be felt. You need to ask yourself what you feel. I cannot wait around for your memories to return and be treated like I don’t matter because I know my worth." She got up, with a bit of difficulty from the armchair. The weight of her pregnancy weighing her down.

"Nita... Don’t push me away."

"I’m not pushing you away. I am taking a couple of steps back. It’s up to you to want... No need to chase me." She tried to step around me, but I caught her wrist to stop her.

Her gaze flickered down to where my hand held hers. I could feel her pulse beneath my fingertips, fast and unsteady.

I stepped in front of her to face her, hoping that concentrating on her face would help me, but instead I was drawn to her lips once more.

I saw something in her face too—need. She may be mad at me, but this woman wanted me.

"Help me." I whispered as I leaned down and claimed her lips with mine. My heart soared when she responded. A warmth spreading through my chest. I was hoping for a memory along with the kiss, but nothing—just a sudden yearning for more. I moaned against her lips, taking more, wanting more, needing more.

Her hand slowly caressed my chest. I knew with the way she drew a sharp breath, she was having an internal battle. I was hoping the one that favored me exploring this feeling more would win but

She pulled away from me gently and looked me in the eye. I know she wanted me, but what was holding her back?

I agree I have handled our situation like an idiot, but who could blame me? Nothing made sense to me.

"This time Richard, if you want me... you have to chase me."

I sighed and stepped back. "I don’t think you will be running very far anyway."

"What?" She raised her brow.

"I mean, can you even run right now?" She opened and shut her mouth, looking confused. "I’m making a joke, duh." I threw my hands in the air.

She smiled, a genuine one. "I’m sorry. We have just been arguing so often lately; I didn’t think you could manage to make a joke anymore."

"We didn’t use to argue?"

"Well... it’s hard to explain." She sighed.

"So we did argue."

A knock at the door interrupted us. "Expecting company? Victor, perhaps?"

"Oh for fucks sakes!" She stormed to the door and yanked it open. It was Martin.

"You had to tell him where I was!" She shouted at Martin.

"He is my boss, ma’am." He responded without batting an eyelid. Seemed Martin was used to her, close to her even.

"And what am I?" She put a hand on her hip, her frame small compared to Martin.

"Mrs. Boss?" She groaned and stepped away from the door. "Sir! Miss Prescott says she has been trying to reach you. It’s Chayara. She is ill."

My head snapped in Martin’s direction, and I took to my heels. Fuck it. Damn, a three-hour journey back.