Cleopatra
"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, the gun in his hand pressing firmly against my forehead.
I smiled innocently, tilting my head. "What are you doing, dear husband?" My eyes deliberately trailed down to his other hand, still resting firmly on my waist. Slowly, I turned my head, letting my gaze linger on the compromising position we were in, before meeting his eyes again with a knowing look.
Realization dawned on him, and his expression darkened. But before he could react, the door suddenly swung open, and his manager stepped in.
The manager wasn't looking at us initially, his eyes glued to his phone. "Don, I need to—" He glanced up mid-sentence and froze, his gaze bouncing between Don and me, then back to Don.
I lifted a hand and gave him a small wave. "Hello," I said, flashing a brilliant smile—the same smile I'd spent 30 minutes practicing in front of the mirror.
He blinked rapidly, then coughed, quickly averting his eyes. "Uh… Don, I see you're… busy. I'll delay the interview," he said hurriedly, already backing toward the door. Adorable.
"There's no need," Don said abruptly, standing up so fast that I had no choice but to follow his lead. He picked up my coat from the floor and shoved it into my hands.
The manager's hands flew up in protest. "What do you mean, there's no need? Clearly, you two are… ahem… I mean, this isn't even appropriate! I'll cancel the interview and book you the nearest hotel—"
I couldn't hold it in anymore. I burst out laughing. The man was too much.
I glanced at Don, expecting his usual blank expression, but something was different. He looked… annoyed. Strange. The Don I knew never showed emotion unless he was on stage. Had I remembered him wrong? He'd just shown irritation—and something about it intrigued me.
"Turn around," Don said flatly, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Take a good look and tell me exactly what's inappropriate—besides you not doing your job properly."
The manager threw his hands up dramatically. "No way! I'm not turning around. I don't want to go blind! Look, I know how this works—one glance, and it's burned into your memory forever. Let me just book you a room!"
Don sighed, walking over to him. He tapped the manager's shoulder, his voice dropping dangerously low. "If it's just one look, doesn't that involve you, too?"
The poor guy visibly shivered but still managed to roll his eyes. "What are you even talking about? She's your wife! And I know you well enough to know that cheating is the one thing you hate the most. Why would I even think about her that way? She's practically my sister-in-law!"
Their banter was amusing, but my focus shifted as the manager's words echoed in my head.
"Cheating is what you hate the most."
Cheating. That was the reason I died in my past life. But why did he hate it so much? What had scarred him so deeply? I realized just how little I truly knew about Don. After all, ours was a marriage of convenience. But that one word—cheating—had been enough for him to kill me. It meant something to him, something deep. And I needed to find out what.
"Are you going to stand there all day, or what? I have to go," Don's voice cut through my thoughts.
I looked up, startled to see that the manager was gone. Don was standing by the door, his usual cold expression back in place.
I smiled sweetly. "Oh, dear husband, that's no way to talk to your wife. My feelings are hurt."
He stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Did you hit your head or something?" His tone was sharp, quiet, deadly—like one wrong move would lead to the same fate I'd suffered in my last life.
I chuckled lightly, stepping closer. "How would you know, Don? You've never shared a house with me, let alone a room. What if this is the real me?"
He scoffed, disbelief written all over his face. "Why would I bother? You've never acted like a wife from the start—not even bothering to show up at your own wedding. If you're not sick, Cleopatra, go home. I don't have time for your games."
With that, he turned and walked out, leaving me standing there.
I grinned to myself. Oh, I liked this version of Don.