The Wedded Whore (Completed)

Chapter Eight

She knew that this man did not love her; the reprehensible creature was seemingly incapable of showing such a selfless emotion, but couldn't he try, however slowly, to lessen the burden he'd inflicted upon her by chaining her down to a loveless union that would horrify even the most insane of women. It was now as clear as crystals that she was merely a name in his list of women, singled out specifically for making him look respectable in the eyes of the society. And was this the man she had been harboring such hopes for? Was this the man she was planning to bend so he could love her? And he was a womanizer_ at least that was what she felt in her heart. And there was nothing on earth to make her believe that he was not getting it from those leggy women that thronged through the hallowed halls of his establishments.

'Obi!'

That husky, well-modulated voice which was meant for the bedroom jolted the singer back to the reality of her surroundings and she turned, fastening her eyes at the intruder who was making her way over to them with a sway of curvy hips. Adamma stared at a head of acrylic hair that shone with its faux gloss; she stared at the beautiful face which appeared a bit older than her own, and sensuous lips that curved in a sexy smile. The woman cast the barest of icy smiles in her direction before she turned her attention to Obi. She seemed to have come to animated life at the sight of the magnate.

'Darling!' the woman gushed, and then she swept herself into his arms to be given a warm kiss that nearly sent Adamma over the edge and had her eyes deadening with anger. But, to the shock and the secret surprise of the singer, her husband held the wench off with a hand while he gave her what his wife had already termed his businessman smile.

'I've been looking everywhere for you, and then here you are. I just returned from Holland with some goodies I know you'll love, and as you know, this party is just boring. So why don't we make arrangements to excuse ourselves and get the hell out of here? It's been so long! Look at you_ how dashing you look! So, if this woman will excuse us?' The woman's brown contact lenses flashed at the singer with a hint of anger and cold triumph.

'Oh, but of course,' he replied, choosing that golden moment to get back at his wife for the way she teased him with her body. She had really punished him, pushing him over the edge, and then leaving him to be thoroughly frustrated and horny with desire for her. He had promised to get back at her, to punish her for what she'd been doing to him with her body, and now seemed like the best time to fulfill that promise, and so he curled one arm around the woman's waist and smiled adoringly into her face. He knew that his mother would be so proud of him because of the fact that he was a magnificent actor. He would dump the bitch who had dared to act so oblivious to his wife as if she was nobody and then get back with his wife.

Stupid Della, the one who knew as much as the next woman that he was now married to the singer but had chosen to ignore that fact now.

'But Obi_' Adamma began, stunned at the deliberate rudeness of her husband. Tears glistened in her eyes.

'As it happens,' Obi snapped, faux repressive coldness in every line, 'Della and I have a lot to catch up on because we've missed out a lot on each other's lives.' There, he had done it. He knew that what he had done was reprehensible, but he just couldn't resist the jab. And the look on her face: priceless.

Obi led the woman away, while Adamma stood there, her fists balled with fury, her eyes glaring after their departing bodies. She was furious with Obi for daring to throw such an insult at her, and she knew he was doing it for revenge at her for some imaginary sins she'd committed. And there, witnessing all that had transpired was Lady Smith, a gossip columnist for Who's On Board magazine. Adamma wished the ground would crack open and swallow her up. To her, Obi was such a wicked, cruel, and remorseless sadist, choosing such a public place to shame her and pour ridicule upon her. The utter sense of desolation she felt knew no bounds.