Why the Crocodile Tears (by Flower Sock) novel Chapter 222

Chapter 222

Gregory slowly closed his eyes.

The next morning, he woke up from a strangely vivid dream.

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In the dream, Anathea asked him if he was tired. Before he could answer, she sat down beside his leg, holding a book in her hands and saying, “You keep working. I’ll stay with you for a bit.”

He was sitting on a lounge chair going through some documents, and when he let his hand fall, his fingers just happened to touch her face.

He was entranced by her soft skin and the fullness beneath her slightly open collar.

Then, without any resistance and honestly without any intention of resisting–his hand moved down, sliding from her face to the smooth skin exposed at her neckline.

Gregory opened his eyes slowly, his gaze dark.

He instinctively reached for the edge of the bed. When his hand landed on Anathea, he pulled her into his arms.

Still half–asleep, Anathea turned toward the warmth and unconsciously snuggled closer.

Gregory tensed instantly. He stared at her face and, as if possessed, reached out to stroke her cheek. His touch was soft, as if he were holding something that belonged solely to him.

He wished Anathea could stay like this forever, gentle and well–behaved, just like in his dream.

He didn’t need a wife who had too many ideas of her own. All he needed was one who loved him. That was enough.

As his drifting thoughts came back into focus, he realized Anathea had already woken up at some point. She stared at him calmly and emotionlessly.

Gregory’s fingers paused on her face before he withdrew his hand wordlessly.

Their eyes met. Neither of them spoke. They just looked at each other. For a moment, the air between them felt frozen.

Then, Anathea pulled away from his arms and stepped out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Gregory asked.

Not answering him, Anathea walked into the walk–in closet.

Gregory’s mood darkened. He thought she was going to pull the same stunt as yesterday and leave him another note. If she did, he wouldn’t hesitate to tear it to shreds.

So, he threw off the covers and strode after her into the walk–in closet.

“What do you think of this suit?” Anathea held up an outfit and looked at him.

“Mr. Price is a pretty easygoing type. Don’t wear a tie when meeting him,” she added.

Today was the day they were supposed to meet Wesley–the day she and Gregory had agreed to play the role of a loving couple. So, like a thoughtful wife, she picked out an outfit for her husband

Gregory stood still, watching her closely.

She was wearing a pale mauve slip dress. Her hair was tied up, with one loose strand falling softly over her collarbone, making her neck look even more delicate and fair.

“As for the watch, skip the Patek Philippe–it’s too formal. Go with the Richard Miller instead.”

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