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5% The Billionaire’s Trial Wife / Chapter 7: HARLEY: Our Bed?

Chapter 7: HARLEY: Our Bed?

The maid who'd brought the family's private doctor to do a checkup on me watched me worriedly. It'd been ten hours since I'd been brought back by Sylus, and of course, he left as soon as he came. Why would he care if his wife was okay or not? Jerk.  

I looked at the maid. "Whose room is this?" 

"Your room, Mrs. Jones." 

"My room?"

"Is there a problem?" the maid asked me. "Is it not to your liking?"  

"Where does that grumpy buffoon sleep?" 

"Huh?"  

I stood up from the bed, taking a step closer to her. "Your boss?"  

She blinked at me in shock. "By…grumpy buffoon, do you mean... Mr. Jones?" 

"Yes." I felt amused. "Doesn't he fit that description? Be honest with me." 

I wasn't sure what it was, but it was akin to fear crossing her eyes. I watched her cower, keeping her mouth shut. Was Sylus that scary? "Tell me, where does he sleep?" 

"Mr. Jones's room is downstairs. He is not a fan of second stairs or more."  

"So why am I upstairs?" 

"Huh? What do you mean?" She looked at me like I shouldn't be asking like it was obvious we had separate rooms. 

My lip dipped at the edges as I smiled. "Aren't we supposed to be sharing the same room? Why is my room all the way up here?" 

"Ah." She swallowed, wordless. "I…but Mr—"  

"Never mind, I'll ask him myself." 

I made my way downstairs, each step careful as I crept around the house, searching for Sylus's bedroom. I found it, but even after four knocks, no one answered, and I finally opened the door without so much as a creak. I first poked my head inside and peeked around with cautious eyes before slipping into the bedroom.  

There was no one in the room, and like I'd expected, it wasn't exciting in any way. It was toned down, though very luxurious and all too clean; I was sure not even a speck of dust could be found anywhere.  

What a neat freak. 

I bounced into the bed, smiling immediately at the softness, but it vanished as soon as it came. Right through the door of the bathroom, Sylus Jones walked out, clad in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. 

"What are you doing in my bed?" he asked. 

I blinked immediately, propping myself up on my elbows. "You mean our bed?" My eyes couldn't help but crawl down his tattoo-covered body, toned and muscled impressively, to halt at his waist, where the V line went to hide in the towel. 

Okay. Grumpy but hot.  

As stressed out as I was, I had to shove the issue to the back of my mind and wait for any kind of response from Olive. 

Sylus glared down at me. "What are you grinning about?" 

"Do you really want to know?" I snuggled into the mountain of pillows, making myself comfortable on the bed as if I owned it. 

"Get out." 

"No." I shook my head at him. 

"Mrs. Legan, I will—" 

"Jones," I corrected him, feeling irritation rising to my throat. "Aren't I married to you? And my name is Harley, don't act like you don't know that." 

He breathed angrily.

"Get out of my room. Do not make me drag you out of here myself." 

"Try it." 

"Harley—" 

I laughed, crossing my ankles. "We are married now, and married couples don't sleep in separate rooms." 

"We are not that kind of couple." 

"Oh? Why do you say so?" 

Sylus's brows knitted, and his frown deepened. "We don't have to sleep in the same room. Are you not smart enough to understand that?"  

"Consider me dumb, grumpy." 

He took another deep breath to calm his nerves and pointed at me. "You know what you should be doing instead of provoking me?" 

"Paint me curious, husband." 

"Saying thank you for saving your pathetic life."  

My expression immediately fell. "Saving my life? Who said you saved me? I saved myself. I was the one that fought that guy and knocked him out. If there was anything you did, it was hope I died. You seemed pretty disappointed."  

He huffed a laugh. 

"In case your stupid brain doesn't register this, I'm in a contract with your father. So you dying will be doing me no good." 

"Cursing is a sign of weakness, Sylus." 

He glared. "I paid twenty million on you little shit." 

"What?" My pupils blew wide open. "You did what now?" 

"Are you deaf?"

"No, but you're an idiot." I screwed my face at him, finding all these ridiculous. "You actually paid the money? For what? I took that bastard down, you didn't need to. Dammit, now I owe you twenty million." 

"Nobody said anything about debt." He frowned. 

I arched a brow at him. "Are you trying to be nice to me or what?"  

"I am trying to be a gentleman. It's just twenty million, I'd earn that back in a day."  

Oh? 

I slowly nodded my head. "First of all, you are anything but a gentleman. I am going to pay you that money back. I don't want anything from you, not someone like you." 

Sylus's face twisted in irritation. "Fine. How do you plan to pay me back?"  

"Well, I didn't think of that." I shrugged. "But I'll figure it out." 

"You better do, because you'll pay me back every single dime," he said silkily and turned, leaving for the closet room. "And you also should look at yourself in the mirror and maybe consider fixing that hair and taking off whatever that is you're wearing." 

"Oh." I instinctively glanced down at my dress, realizing the maids didn't change me. I chortled, rolling over on my belly, while my feet excitedly kicked back and forth in the air. "I can explain all this. I just didn't want to marry you, so I cut the dress up to get the wedding canceled and fought my father's men too. I actually came so close to escaping, but they knocked me out." 

There was a deafening silence between the both of us before he slowly turned to look at me. "You fought?"

My smile grew. "Just like you saw earlier. Impressive huh?"

There was this calculative, dangerous look in his eyes—one that I couldn't read. I'd expected him to say something—to make a certain kind of remark, but he turned, walking into the dressing closet. 

"Before I return, make sure you're out of my room." And he slammed the door shut. 

My lips cracked into a slow deliberate smile. 

"You'll have to make me!" 


Chapter 8: SYLUS: A Brat With A B

This had to be some kind of joke. I squinted my eyes at the woman who still laid comfortably on my bed, like she owned it, her hair all over the pillow as if it belonged to her.

I'd returned only to find Harley gone and assumed she listened to my warnings, but I'd unfortunately woken up in the morning to find her asleep on my bed, right next to me.

Did she have a death wish or was she just deaf in one ear? It had to be the latter.

This wasn't what I'd expected, not her! Harley was everything I didn't like—difficult and crazy. There was no sense of idiocy in her eyes; no, she was clever, I can see it. Damn Amadeo, that cunning old bastard. 

An unwanted headache filled me, and I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. Where the heck did she even fit into my life? Harley was uncontrolled, I'd never had to deal with a woman like her, not once in my life. The worst part of it was that she was not in any way bad-looking. She was mixed, American and Korean; I'd already received every piece of data I needed on her. 

Harley was beautiful and slender in all the right ways. Her hair was so black, and her eyes were the palest blue I'd ever seen, big and adorned with dark long lashes that rested atop her under eye. I'd never seen a woman look that good. Mere looking at her, no one would be able to guess the kind of person she was. No, she looked so gentle, soft, and timid in the eyes… until she opened her mouth.  

"I can feel you staring at me even in my dreams. That's very creepy, grumpy Jones." 

Grumpy Jones? Why is she even calling me that? 

She yawned, and I watched her sit up on the bed to stretch her small muscles. I'd find that adorable if she didn't annoy me so much. 

"You still returned to my bed, huh?" I muttered, tugging on a button-up shirt. I walked over to the chair to take a seat and all the while, I could feel her eyes on me. Still, I didn't meet her gaze and instead reached for my cup of coffee and picked up my phone, intent on distracting myself and getting her out of my mind.

"Are you surprised?" she asked. 

I looked at her. 

"Sylus, I never said I was going to leave. I only went to the shower to fix my hair like you wanted. Did you think I wasn't going to come back?" 

Yes, yes, I thought you wouldn't! 

She grinned at me as if she could hear my thoughts and crawled over to the edge of the bed to settle her feet on the floor. 

The headache I felt intensified, and I drew a long hiss. 

"I want to eat, Sylus, so I'm going to brush my teeth. Feed me when I'm back." She bounced on her feet as she headed for my bathroom, and quickly, I frowned. 

"My bathroom? What are you looking for in there?" 

"To brush my teeth, what else?" 

"Don't tell me you have your brush in there." 

"I do." Her smile, annoyingly pretty, stretched wider. "My clothes are even in your closet." She added before I could speak, "Dont worry, I didn't make a mess."

She turned on her heels to leave, but stopped suddenly, a chuckle bubbling out of her. "Sylus, do you know you sleep like a princess, by the way?"

"What?" I snapped, scowling.

"All the while I did this the whole night, you had no idea. You could easily get assassinated." 

Assassinated?  

I huffed a laugh, amused. "You're not a threat and you weren't. I can taste them, feel them, so if you were one, my body would have instictively reacted to your presence and—" I made a pistol sign with my fingers.

And she gasped.

"A bullet would have gone through your head before I'm even fully conscious."

"Ya!" A wide smile bloomed on her face like a child who saw candy for the first time. "That's so hot…"

What the…

I bit into my lip, stifling the laugh that rested on my tongue and stared at her with an incredulous look. "You're unbelivable. Has anyone ever told you you're—" 

"Crazy?" She nodded her head, biting her very red lips with a smile. "Countless times, husband! It's a shame you said I wasn't the kind of woman you'd prefer, because you're in for more disappointment." The smile vanished from her face as she added, "You will not be getting a meek wife out of me, at least until I make you send me back home."

"Send you back home?" My eyes narrowed a fraction, watching her with interest. "You want to disappoint your father?" 

"Bingo," she said evenly. "That is the goal. He threatened me with a lot of things I can't afford to loose, so running away from this marriage is not an option. BUT! If I do get to make you send me back home willingly, then there will be nothing he can do about it."

My displeasure was instantaneous, a match to gasoline, and I asked, "What makes you think I would ever do that?" 

"Oh, you will. You will, husband." Those blue eyes, so pale, they were almost white, narrowed along as her lips stretched into a sure smile. "You will." And she turned, heading for the bathroom. 

The death grip I had on my phone tightened, and I lowered my head with resignation. Harley was a brat with a capital 'B' annoying, irritating, everything you could possibly think of. 

Truly Amadeo Legan's daughter. 

A day only, and she was driving me crazy, I could almost say 'To hell with the contract' but I was a Jones for a reason, and if she thought she could crawl under the skin of a man like me, she was solely mistaken. 

This game she'd created between us, this insanity, she'll end up on the losing end. Sure, she'd won this round, but next time, she wouldn't be able to get away with just bulldozing into my space however she saw fit. 

That much, I can promise my new wife.


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