Page 7 of A Beautiful Crime

The Weaker Sex

Five Months Later

Ugh. There's just so much to do,I think to myself.

Lying on my back and staring off at the window in the bedroom, I fight off a wave of discontentment at seeing the sun firmly set, and all the lights of the high rise apartments surrounding us come on. Though right now, I can't even be distracted by the beauty of the city.

My thoughts race, disassociated from my boyfriend Christopher who's in bed with me.

I have to meet with Fabian tomorrow at eight in the morning to go over paperwork regarding the sign off of the plans that he requested so King can get started on the development. I also need to meetwith Anna, so we can put together a portfolio of the design that should be paired perfectly with the new changes.

My brow furrows with irritation because I need King to look at it first before submitting to Fabian, becauseapparentlyI can't put a fountain in the wall that is going to have a load bearing beam and tons of studs. According to King, that is.

Thinking about that particular talk with him, where he said I needed to wait for his sign off in order to plan and execute my designs, makes my blood boil enough with irritation to almost make me orgasm.

Almost.

I look back up when my body jerks with a harder than normal thrust, and I frown, seeing Christopher's taking a bit longer tonight than usual to orgasm. Though we've been intimate for two years, he's accomplishing absolutely nothing on my end. He's currently thrusting, looking off to the side, and he looks just as bored as I feel.

Wanting to get it over with I wet my lips. "Come on baby, come for me."

My faux sultry game is on point as I move my hands to grab his ass, digging my nails in and jerking him to me harder. Attempting to coax him to ejaculate so we can be done with this, because I have stuff to think about: like an incredibly full day tomorrow, and a meeting with King to go over plans that's making me so anxious I can't relax enough to orgasm.

Though I'd never offend Christopher by telling him this, his bedroom game is not intense or on point enough to distract me from the thoughts racing in my head. He's bored,I'mbored, and frankly over it. Apparently my 'sexy' move didn't land how it was supposed to. Irritated, I bite my lip to keep my mouth shut as he jerks his head to look down at me with an annoyed expression on his face.

"Ow."Christopher snaps his eyes to mine, reaching back to yank my hands off him. "What the fuck Isobel? YouknowI don't like that. Now my erection is gone!"

I tighten my lips, feeling him soften inside of me and slip out. Having a man lose his erection while inside of you has got to be easily top five of the most icky feelings ever, in my opinion.

Unfortunately, this has been happening for the better part of a year. Any minute thing on my part, and he loses his erection. I don't get it. Christopher looks away once more, rolling off of me on a long suffering sigh that I truly want to echo, but don't feel like having the conversation that would follow that.

He's already told me I was becoming difficult. Showing too much of an attitude for him.

Christopher just doesn't get it. He comes from wealth and doesn't have to be as strong or work as hard as I do. And for the record, I'm not justbecomingdifficult, I've always been a bit strong willed. Which was just fine with him up until about half a year ago around the time he started going soft on me while we're intimate. I'd just figured that the honeymoon bliss part of our relationship had drawn to an end.

"Sorry," I mutter, closing my legs and swinging them over the side of the bed to get up.

Truth be told, I don't care anymore.

I've spent months frustrated with our boring sex life, but in the end it really doesn't matter. I need dependability and steadiness right now which is what Christopher provides,nothot sex. I get up and head to the master bathroom, drawing up short as we almost run into each other awkwardly, both of us having the same idea: to jump in the shower as quick as possible afterwards.

I tuck my dark, copper-colored hair behind my ear and give him a little smile as I inch around him. "I'll just use the guest bathroomtonight. Enjoy the spray," I say, referring to the coveted shower head that's been my best friend for all the year and a half that I've been here.

I dubbed her "Sensa" because she's sensational and has helped me through many a frustrated night where Christopher got off and I didn't. Me and Sensa have had atime. But I'm off to the guest bathroom where there is no handheld shower head. You'd think that Christopher would offer for me to have the nicer bathroom, but that's fine.

I'm used to not being considered in this way.

I snag a towel and a spare loofah, hightailing it to the guest bathroom, smiling at the privacy I'm able to have now. I can actually be left to think, without having someone inside me to interrupt my thoughts. Pinning up my straight hair carefully so I don't get it wet and ruin my blow out, I pull on a plastic cap and step under the spray to lather my loofah with my favorite jasmine soap and begin again.

It's mental gymnastics.

Eight in the morning meeting with Fabian to go over paperwork, then meet with my friend and assistant Anna to develop the portfolio in enough time to book it to the west side of town where King's architectural firm,King Dynasty,is located, then have him look over it personally.

I have no clue why Hendrix King, the CEO and god of the New York Architectural universe, feels the need to do these meetings with me in person. I would think he'd have one of his lower minions handle my appointments, but no. Apparently my first and last meeting with a couple of the associates intimidated him so badly that King decided to meet with me personally.

And for the last nine months since I've nabbed Fabian as a client, we've met every time in person, once a month. Fabian was a huge winfor me. The break I've been begging and praying for since I started my own interior design business just three years ago.

Fabian's no Olive Garden, or Pasta House. No, he's straight from the vineyards of Stanley Tucci's Italy himself. A pure-blooded,famousItalian chef who's cooked with the likes of Gordon Ramsay and Irina Garten. Holds four Michelin stars and nine restaurants around the globe, and this latest undertaking in New York will be his tenth.