Shades Of Mr.billionaire - Chapter 317

Now I’m still slightly sweaty, I’m even more out of breath and my frustration is obvious, especially when I throw my bag across my desk and it takes my pen pot with it, the loud clatter attracting the attention of my work colleagues, who all poke their heads out of the kitchen to see what the commotion is all about.

“Feeling better?” Fu Heng asks, his inquisitive gaze running the length of my clammy form.

“Yes. I am,” I bark, wrenching my bag to the floor and collapsing into my chair.

Then I take a few calming breaths and turn my swivel chair towards the kitchen, finding three sets of raised eyebrows.

“What?” I scowl at them stare.

“You look terrible,” Yi Lan pipes up.

“Maybe you should taking a break,” She suggested.

“Or I can buy you some steam milk from the nearby café,” Er Xi offers sweetly.

I soften my scowling face as all of their eyes all pointed at me, which have now turned from curious to concerned.

Oh no. I forgot that I was supposedly ill yesterday.

“Thanks, Er Xi. That would be lovely.” I am grateful for her offer.

She walks over to her desk and pulls some money from her purse.

“Anyone else?” Er Xi as the other two.

Fu Heng and Yi Lan both give their orders at Er Xi, who barely holds back to hear them before leaving office promptly, probably to escape my obvious foul mood.

After that, I left Yi Lan and Fu Heng at their desk, get back to my office room and turn my computer on to load up my email.

Then both of them follow after.

Gosh! They aren’t done yet.

“You look pale, Wei Lin. I think you should take a break today,” Yi Lan observes my face.

She looks very concern about my health.

“Yes really pale. Are you sure you’re okay?” Fu Heng pipes up but he just looks damn right suspicious.

I start flicking through my email, highlighting and deleting the mass of junk and promotional rubbish.

“Don’t worry, I���m very fine. Where’s the boss?” It’s only now when I’ve calmed slightly, that I’ve noticed my boss hasn’t come to investigate the noise.

“Personal meetings.” Two of them chant in unison, and I look upon a frown.

“Wasn’t he in private meetings too yesterday?” I asked.

“He’ll be in tomorrow.” Fu Heng tells me.

“Do you think he’s finally divorcing his freaking control wife?” Yi Lan chirp.

So I laugh.

“No way! Though she always drives Xu Feng Brother around the twist, I know that our boss, he does love his wife dearly.” I say.

“Ooh, I didn’t think like that.” Yi Lan eyes are wide.

“Did you see that the dress that she had on at your wedding?” Fu Heng ask.

“Yes! Yes!” Yi Lan shrieks.

“That’s f**king too much,” She cries.

Then Fu Heng laughs as he walks out from my office room back to his desk, and I look back at Yi Lan who still stood in front of my desk.

Oh, God.

She is in no position to pass judgment on other people fashion sense as herself quite…too much too.

“What?” She asks, running her eyes down.

“Nothing,” I laugh, turning my attention back to my computer, leaving Yi Lan dancing his way out from my office room back to her desk.

My office door got knock and when I look up a woman with a basket dr.a.p.ed over her arm in front of my office door.

“Mrs Feng?” She looks at me.

“Hi, Please come in,” I say.

Then she walks in and she makes it to my desk and rests her hamper on the edge.

“Yes, how can I help you?” I don’t recognise her.

She pulls the gingham towel from the top of the carrier and my eyes naturally follow her hand into it.

“This is a set breakfast for you, Mrs Feng,” She smiles, placing a paper bag in front of me, and then reaches back in, pulling out a takeaway coffee cup.

“My coffee wasn’t good enough, so your husband had me pick one up from Starbucks. A Cappuccino, extra shot, no chocolate or sugar.” She doesn’t sound impressed.

“Please. Enjoy.’ And with that, she turns and walks out.

I sigh and push the bag to the side. I’m not in the least bit hungry, but I’m dying for some coffee.

Then I take a sip and immediately screw my face up at the bitter taste.

“Ewww,” I spit out.

“All right?” Fu Heng frowns at my office door at me.

I don’t know when he got stand there.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” I stand and take myself into the kitchen, removing the lid from my coffee and tipping sugar into the cup before giving it a good stir and taking another sip.

Then I hum in sweet satisfaction.

“Here coffee for Wei Lin Jie,” Er Xi walks into the kitchen, waving the downstairs nearby coffee cup at me.

“Oh?” Her look of complete confusion invades her face as she watches me gulping down the hot, sweet liquid.

I exhale happily.

“Sorry. It’s untold delivered, courtesy from my husband.” I say.

She melts.

“Wooo. He’s so sweet.” Er Xi sings.

“No, it wasn’t. But I added a few myself.” I walk past a puzzled looking Er Xi back to my office room and dig through my bag when I hear my phone shout notification of the message.

‘Have you eating your breakfast, wifey?’

I take another swig of my coffee and reply.

‘Yes. It’s so delish, thanks, hubby.’

Then I sent.

I wanted to reply.

‘No thank you because I’m not very grateful.’

But I feel queasy, from the sweet coffee is going down a treat. I’m so glad our marriage is based on and honesty.

So I don’t get a chance to put my phone down it chimes again.

My eyes instinctively lift and there he is, my husband. He held a banquet and his an annoyed glare drilling into me standing at my office door.

So I can’t prevent the long, drawn-out exhale of air that rushes from my mouth as I lower myself to my chair as Feng Teng strides over my desk before sinking his tall, leanness into a chair on the other side of my desk, placing the flowers in front of me.

“Eat,” he orders flatly, nodding at the paper bag that’s been shoved to the side.

“I’m not hungry, yet,” I’m whining, but I can’t muster up the energy to retaliate or snap at him.

He leans forward, looking worried, his eyes evaluating my face.

“Babe, do you realise that you look so pale?” He asks.

“Em. I don’t feel very since,” I admit.

Finally morning sickness at the correct time of day.

There is no point in feigning fine because I don’t feel it and I don’t look at it.

He rises and comes to stand behind my chair, leaning down and placing his palm across my brow and his mouth to my ear.

“You have a fever,” He says.

“Hm. I know.” I sigh, pushing my cheek to his mouth, my eyes closing with no instruction from my brain.

How can I feel so exhausted still?

“And I hope you feel a bit of guilty,” I say quietly.

This is all his fault. I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’m released and my chair swivelled around to face him.

He crouches in front of me and takes my hands.

“Let I take you back home,” he says, but I can tell by his pleading face that he knows I’ll refuse.

“I will bear for it,” I reject softly.

“Wifey. You’re impossible sometimes.” He reaches up to cup my cheek.

“Pregnancy is making you moody and even more defiant sometimes,” He grumbled.

I force a small smile.

“So I like keeping you on your toes,” I say sweetly.

“You mean you like keeping me crazy only,” He scoffed.

“That, too.” I mused.

Sighing, he leans in and kisses me sweetly.

“Please eat now,” He’s begging, not demanding.

“It might make you feel better.” He adds concerned.

“Hmm. For you then,” I agree.

So I’m willing to try because even though the thought of swallowing food makes me want to gag, I couldn’t possibly feel any worse than I already do.

He looks a little surprised at my lack of disobedience.

“Good babe,” He praised.

Then I’m turned back towards my desk and presented with the paper bag, and as I open it, the waft of the chicken hits my nose and I do gag.

“Mhmm… Hubby, I don’t think I can.” I snap the bag shut again, but it’s soon whipped from my hand, the sandwich unpacked and placed on a napkin in front of me.

As I gingerly pick at a corner and bring it to my lips, I’m fighting the overwhelming desire to run to the toilets and shove my fingers down my throat.

So I chew slowly for an age, under the watchful eye of my worried husband, then I swallow.

Luckily, I don’t retch.

“Can I just eat the sandwich only?” I pick at another piece.

I really can’t eat chicken. It’s smell so bad.

He smiles down at me.

“Yes, you can. Do you see how happy you make me when you do what as you’re told?” He asks happily.

I ignore him and pop the bread in my mouth, each chew becoming easier, each swallow instigating less stomach-turning.

He just stands and watches me until I’ve worked my way through most of my breakfast, leaving the bacon and a few scraps of bread to the side.

” Happy now?” I ask.

I know he is and I feel better already.

“Now your sweet colours back. Of course, I’m happy.” He scoops up the remains and throws it in the bin, and then bends down, getting nose to nose with me.

“Thank you.” he grins, and I grin right back.

“My dutiful here is done.” He pushes his lips to mine.

“Now I’ll leave my wife to work in peace.” He says sweetly.

I scoff at him

“No! No way, you won’t.” I scowl at him.