The Transient Wife

Chapter 17

 Cassandra literally jumped out of her bed, pillows and all. "Dammit!" she snapped her head at the direction of the door which was banging just a few seconds ago. "What?" she groaned.

"Open the door," Philip's authoritative voice said from the other side. Cassandra's eyes narrowed. She knew he was always bossy, but that side of him was quite forgotten when they were in their honeymoon and now that they were back—and at his territory—he was worse.

"I'm still having a hangover from my dream!" she shouted as she swung the door open.

"What dream are you talking about?" He seemed surprised that she was still in her sleeping outfit which was an oversized shirt and a pair of boxers.

"The one where I was burying you in the woods after cutting your throat," she said, pursing her lips, her eyes unwavering.

"You were sleeping?" he ignored her last statement and stared at her incredulously.

She stared at him sarcastically. "No, I was just messing with you...of course I was sleeping!"

"It's already ten in the morning and you haven't fixed breakfast yet."

His statement made her freeze. "It's ten?"

Philip looked at her intensely, his freshly shaven face showing signs of impending outburst. "Yes, and there are still the dishes you promised to wash yesterday but chose to forget. And then there's the lawn—"

"Okay! I get it!" she slammed the door at his face.

"I'm not done talking!" his voice was muffled by the heavy door.

"I heard enough! And I'm getting ready!" She hurriedly changed her clothes. She better get breakfast ready so he'd shut up. Then she'd do the dishes before she left. The lawn would have to wait for tomorrow. Ah, yes, tomorrow will be Tuesday so he'll end up with the lawn.

Once properly dressed, she stormed out of her room and bumped against her husband who must have caught the morning glory all for himself because he smelled just wonderful and looked—well, angry, obviously—stunningly fresh and handsome. "What?" She immediately stepped away before she could think of having him for breakfast instead of the planned ham and eggs.

He looked down at her outfit. She was wearing a black shirt and a pair of dark pants. "Are you going out? I thought I said you can't go out today?"

"Am I prisoner here?" she arched her eyebrow.

"No, but the chores are in the contract and you should follow them."

"You and I both know there is no contract so stop talking about it! And who fool would ever think of including stupid things like household chores in a contract?" she asked incredulously. "Oh, yeah, it's you."

"I took you for my wife for a reason..." he said coldly, stepping closer so their chests were only inches apart, "and I need order inside my house. It's only fair that while you stay here, we divide the work."

"Whatever you think you are doing for taking me as your wife, I don't really care because as far as I know, no one here is wise enough to trust me with their stupid secrets, my father included!" She circled around him.

"Cassandra," he called behind her.

"Don't worry, babe, I won't get out of that blasted front door!" she shouted. He was unbelievable and despicable! He was not going out of this house because he worked here and he expected her to do the same? Was it because of his secret with her father?

She stomped down the stairs to the kitchen.

"You can go out only during your free days," he said behind her rather gently. "Or after you do all of your work."