Secret Marriage: The CEO's Pampered Wife

The tension at the dinner table was palpable. Although Elliot Sheridan had come alone, his presence was every bit as imposing as Erin Irving’s.

Erin Irving was resentful and looked for an opportunity to speak with Georgia Thorne, but Elliot was protecting her too well.

He furrowed his brow. ’Have those two made up so quickly?’

Erin Irving and Elliot Sheridan were indeed old classmates. You could say the two had never gotten along; they were sworn enemies.

But they hadn’t been enemies from the start. Their feud began because of Quentin Chase.

Quentin Chase was two years their junior. When they were seniors in high school, Quentin was just a freshman.

Before their senior year, while Erin Irving had never liked Elliot Sheridan, he never went out of his way to cause trouble for him. But with Quentin Chase’s arrival, everything descended into chaos.

Back then, news of the two hot-headed young men getting into a fight spread throughout the entire school.

One was the school thug, while the other was a model student. The teachers couldn’t believe that Elliot Sheridan had actually fought Erin Irving—and that they were evenly matched.

Neither could gain the upper hand.

Elliot Sheridan used to be a troublemaker himself, constantly causing problems for his family. Every time he got into a fight, whether on or off campus, James Sheridan would be called to the school to be lectured by the teachers. Afterward, James would go home and give Elliot a stern talking-to.

After two or three of these incidents, Elliot seemed to have learned his lesson, and James Sheridan was never called to the school again.

It wasn’t that Elliot had stopped fighting, but rather that he now beat his opponents so thoroughly they would be on their knees begging for mercy, too scared to snitch.

Eventually, Elliot started putting on an act. He gradually stopped fighting himself, instead becoming the kind of person who used his wits to get others to do the dirty work.

Of course, there were exceptions—like fighting Erin Irving over Quentin Chase.

Elliot Sheridan wasn’t feeling well, so he didn’t touch a drop of alcohol, using his wife as an excuse. "My wife doesn’t like it when I drink. Sorry to be a killjoy, everyone."

Georgia didn’t want him to drink, either. ’His stomach issues have just started to improve. If he drinks now, he’ll only end up back in the hospital.’

But the atmosphere at the table was strange. The remaining guests had to walk on eggshells, trying to curry favor with Elliot while simultaneously being wary of Erin.

Georgia was getting antsy. Noticing this, Elliot gently placed a hand on her waist. "Tired?"

Georgia didn’t feign otherwise, simply leaning against his shoulder and nodding.

Everyone present witnessed their every interaction, and it had to be said: Elliot Sheridan treated Georgia Thorne incredibly well.

"Apologies, my wife is a bit tired, so I’ll be taking her home. Please, put tonight’s dinner on my tab," Elliot said politely.

Amid a chorus of flattering remarks, he left with Georgia Thorne.

’He probably checked himself out of the hospital without permission and took a cab here.’

Elliot leaned back against the taxi seat, the exhaustion finally showing on his face. All that spirited energy from before had been nothing but an act.

Georgia couldn’t help but think, ’How is this man so good at putting on a front? And so flawlessly, too.’

"Are you okay? You look terrible!"

"I’m fine. I just need to rest for a bit." Elliot closed his eyes for a moment before opening them to look at her, his dark eyes growing clearer.

"Let’s go to the hospital," Georgia said to the driver after a moment’s thought. Even though he said he was fine, she couldn’t help but worry.

"No, take us to your place." After he spoke, Elliot recited the address of her current rental apartment.

Georgia was secretly stunned. ’How does he know that?’

But then she remembered how resourceful he was. There was very little you could hide from him, and she resigned herself to it.

Still...

The driver glanced between the two of them. It was obvious Elliot was the one in charge, so he followed his instructions and headed for Georgia’s address.

Georgia got out of the car and watched as Elliot followed suit. She blinked. "Aren’t you going back to the hospital?"

Elliot had rested with his eyes closed in the car for a bit and regained some of his strength. "Are you that eager for me to leave? Or do you have some other man hidden in there?"

Georgia was speechless. She was just concerned about his health.

She felt that ever since Elliot had gotten sick, his words had become more and more venomous. He was so sharp-tongued, it seemed he wouldn’t rest until he’d left her speechless with frustration.

Resigned, she led Elliot back to her apartment.

It was tiny, the entire layout visible at a glance, much like the apartment she had rented in Akashima.

Elliot scanned the room. Seeing no trace of another man, the tightness in his chest eased a little.

Georgia asked if he had eaten dinner. At the restaurant, a server had set a place for him, but she hadn’t seen him pick up his chopsticks once.

His hand had been covering hers the entire time.

Elliot wasn’t actually hungry, but he still said, "I’m starving."

Georgia cooked some congee, and as she was setting the bowl on the table, she saw Elliot holding one of her drawings.

On the bed was a black drawing tube. Georgia’s heart skipped a beat. She rushed over, snatched the paper from his hand, and said in a fluster, "Don’t look!"

Inside that tube were the drawings Georgia had recently made of their child.

It was a difficult subject, because she had no idea what her child looked like. She could only guess who the baby would have resembled more.

A boy would look like Elliot; a girl would look like her.

As Georgia kept drawing, the sketches started turning into portraits of Elliot.

She had met Elliot when he was already an adult, with his sharp features and imposing expression; she couldn’t imagine what he’d looked like as a child.

She drew one after another, unknowingly accumulating a large stack of them.

Elliot took the opportunity to pull her into his embrace, his voice slightly hoarse. "Let me see."

The child was the softest spot in both their hearts.

Hearing Elliot’s voice, Georgia dazedly handed him the drawing. He took it and studied it carefully. "Is this a boy or a girl?"

It was impossible to tell if the drawing was of a boy or a girl, but Elliot could see at a glance that Georgia had based the child’s features on his own.

"A girl."

"It wouldn’t be good for a girl to look like me; I’m too intimidating. It would be best if she looked like you. Look at you, so fair and sweet. Lots of boys will like her in the future, and I’ll dote on her completely."

Before, when Elliot didn’t have children, he never cared whether he had a boy or a girl, because he hadn’t wanted children in the first place.

But after marrying Georgia, he had slowly started to look forward to her getting pregnant, hoping for a girl.

Then he could treat them both like princesses—one big and one small.

He looked through the drawings one by one. Each was a miniature version of himself.

Elliot’s heart ached with regret. If he hadn’t done such a foolish thing, Georgia would probably be heavily pregnant by now.

The topic of children made Elliot uncharacteristically talkative. "Georgia, let’s have another baby. A little girl, one who looks just like you. How does that sound?"

At some point, their positions had shifted, and Elliot was now holding her securely in his arms.

She tilted her head back, half-blinded by the harsh glare of the ceiling light. The man’s face began to blur.

He spoke with such deep affection that she almost allowed herself to get lost in it.

But in the end, she resisted. Georgia shifted slightly. "You should eat your congee. It’s going to get cold."

A blatant evasion. Elliot’s eyes darkened, but he just said, "Okay."

Releasing her, Elliot picked up the bowl of warm congee and finished it in one gulp.

That night, Elliot shamelessly insisted on staying over.

Georgia glanced at her single bed, then back at Elliot. "You should go home. I only have one bed, there’s no way this will work."

The last time Nancy Hughes had slept over, Georgia had nearly been pushed onto the floor.

"Why not? We managed just fine in that bed by the sea, but this one’s a problem?" Elliot said, lifting an eyebrow before stepping into the bathroom.

Georgia flushed. That was different; they had been staying at someone else’s house and had no other choice.

In any case, Elliot was clearly determined to stay. When he emerged from the shower, he was wearing nothing but Georgia’s bath towel tied around his waist.

Georgia grabbed her clothes and entered the bathroom, her vision immediately clouded by the dense steam.

As she passed Elliot, he pressed her against the door, tilted her chin up, and kissed her.

Blushing, Georgia softly called out his name, stopping him from taking things further.

He knew she wasn’t ready. He had been too hasty. He released her reluctantly. "Go on, take your shower."

Georgia finished her shower in record time, but then she thought of the man waiting outside, and her movements slowed as she got dressed.

Elliot sat on the bed, lost in thought as he stared at the drawings. Finally, he glanced at the time and called out to the bathroom, "If you don’t come out soon, I’m coming in!"

Georgia shot up from the toilet seat. "I’m almost done!" she called out hurriedly.

She quickly blew her hair dry before finally stepping out.

Elliot was still looking at her art. When he saw her, he stuffed the drawings back into the tube. "Were you slacking off in there?"

Georgia blushed, looking at how he had already taken up more than half the bed. ’How am I supposed to sleep?’

"You take the bed. I’ll just sleep on the floor tonight." Georgia pulled a clean comforter from the closet and spread it on the floor.

Aside from his expression darkening slightly, Elliot didn’t react.

The heat was on in the small room. Georgia turned off the lights, wished Elliot a good night, and burrowed into her comforter.

The floor wasn’t as soft as the bed, and it was cold. Georgia pulled the comforter tighter around herself, but she couldn’t fall asleep.

She didn’t know if the man in the bed was asleep. She wanted to take her medicine but was afraid Elliot would find out, so all she could do was close her eyes and count sheep.

Counting sheep was useless for Georgia. She lost track of the number, but she was still wide awake. If anything, her mind felt more alert than ever.

Elliot was a light sleeper. In the past, he would wake at her slightest movement.

Georgia lay on her side, trying her best not to move, until the arm pinned beneath her went numb.

In the darkness, she listened to the sound of their breathing. ’He must be asleep by now.’

Georgia feigned sleep, right up until the moment Elliot pulled her fully into his embrace.

She was about to pretend he had woken her and tell him to get back in bed, but before she could move, Elliot whispered in her ear, "I love you."

For a moment, Georgia lay stunned in his arms, the tip of her nose inexplicably beginning to tingle.

Elliot held her, letting out what sounded like a sigh of contentment.

A torrent of emotions flooded Georgia’s heart, drowning her reason. She turned and burrowed deeper into Elliot’s embrace.

Sometimes, even when she knew she shouldn’t, she just couldn’t control herself.