Mr. Dior : Chapter 7: The President’s Millionaire Bride (7)

The main act for the evening performance had not yet begun; on stage, a rock singer with dreadlocks was lost in his own world as he sang.

The night owls were not yet out, but the party-going office workers were already staggering into their seats. Business professionals in suits shed their professional skins, rolled up their sleeves, and ruffled their meticulously styled hair, transforming instantly into wild pleasure-seekers.

A pole dancer in revealing attire had just finished her makeup and was ready to go on stage. She caught Jiao Qi’s gaze unexpectedly and pursed her red lips to blow him a kiss.

The young and handsome President Jiao could not respond to her enthusiasm at that moment. His face was as cold as ice. He raised his hand and asked his neural assistant: “How many times this year has Zhang Da-diao failed to return home before ten o’clock?”

The assistant quickly searched its database. For records the owner considered “irrelevant,” it only kept data for one month.

【On the 3rd of last month, he played golf with a client and returned home at 11:32 PM; on the 16th, he played games with President Wang and returned home in the early morning; on the 28th, he went to the mountaintop to see the aurora, and in the evening…】

Only then did Jiao Qi realize he hadn’t cared about Zhang Da-diao’s whereabouts in a long time. Because he was also very busy and often returned home late, he naturally assumed Zhang Da-diao was the same. When he said he had social engagements, Jiao Qi would just say “okay” without even listening to the sloppy excuses he made up on the spot.

Many of these excuses were terrible; who plays golf at midnight, and which mountain top has an aurora?

The heart that had been kept warm in their marriage for seven years suddenly fell into an ice cave, aching from the cold.

“Call some pretty ones over,” Zhang Chenfei ordered loudly, though his gaze remained fixed on his wife’s pale face. He reached out and pulled Jiao Qi into his arms, “What’s wrong, scared?” As he spoke, he slipped his hand inside Jiao Qi’s shirt.

“President Zhang, you’re here.”

“Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Two flirtatious-looking boys brought over drinks, their eyes, heavily lined with thick eyeliner, fluttering as they tried to charm Zhang Chenfei. The smell of cheap perfume rushed over, causing Jiao Qi to sneeze repeatedly.

“Don’t touch me!” Jiao Qi gripped the warm, large hand and yanked it away fiercely. Just the thought that this hand had touched these bar boys made his stomach turn.

Zhang Chenfei was determined to tease him. He held him close and said with a grin, “You’re my wife; if I don’t touch you, who am I supposed to touch? Heh, don’t forget, you’re here to pay off your father’s debt. If you aren’t obedient, be careful or I’ll…”

Before he could finish, he realized his wife’s eyes had genuinely reddened, and he froze. A sense of pain inexplicably gripped his chest, and he felt a sudden, instinctive panic.

“Why are you crying? I’ll stop teasing you, okay?” He coaxed softly and leaned in to kiss his cheek, only to be pushed away hard by Jiao Qi.

“Oh ho, Brother Zhang, why the change in taste today!” A well-dressed man approached, stumbling while hugging a woman in a red dress. He laughed, “Aren’t you afraid of your little wife at home anymore?”

“What little wife?” the woman in the red dress asked curiously.

“Honey, you’re new, you wouldn’t know. This President Zhang is famously henpecked. He never lets the ‘liquor princesses’ get close to him when he plays here. He says his wife can smell perfume from a mile away, hahahaha… hiccup!” The man stopped laughing mid-way, choked, and stared in horror at the beauty in Zhang Chenfei’s arms: “Sis… Sis… Sister-in-law!”

Perfume?

Jiao Qi was stunned and thought carefully. Every time Zhang Chenfei came home, he would indeed carry various scents—sweat, alcohol, sea salt, freshly cut grass but never, ever someone else’s perfume.

He slowly leaned back into his husband’s arms and was immediately surrounded by a faint scent of wood and leather. It was the perfume he had gifted Zhang Da-diao: Hermes Terre d’Hermes, the scent of a mature and steady man.

Jiao Qi raised his eyebrows: “President Wang, what a coincidence.”

This President Wang was the companion Zhang Chenfei always mentioned the legendary friend who supposedly went to late-night internet cafes and mountaintops to watch the aurora with him.

“Ah, haha,” President Wang laughed, looking incredibly unnatural.

Zhang Chenfei watched their interaction coldly, his arm tightening around Jiao Qi: “So you really are in cahoots with the Wang family!”

“Huh?” Jiao Qi couldn’t keep up with his husband’s train of thought.

“The weather is getting cold; it’s time to make the Wang family go bankrupt,” the President said slowly as he sipped his wine, his tone ice-cold.

“What, what, what?” The innocent and collateral-damaged President Wang was left dumbfounded.

On the way home, Jiao Qi didn’t say a word. It wasn’t until he got inside and saw that bottle of pale yellow Hermes perfume on the hallway key cabinet that he managed to hold back the urge to resort to domestic violence.

He threw his suit jacket onto the sofa and grabbed his husband’s tie, questioning him coldly: “Why did you never tell me you went to places like that?”

The President was pulled off-balance by his tie. He took the opportunity to lean down and peck his wife on the lips, “Why do I need to report to you about where I go?” As he spoke, he suddenly scooped him up and walked toward the bedroom with long strides.

“Zhang Da-diao, how many more things are you hiding from me?” Jiao Qi was thrown onto the bed. He scrambled up, only to be pinned back down.

“Heh, of course I have secrets, but why would I tell you?” The President toyed with his wife’s soft ears. How could he tell this heartless corporate spy the secrets deep in his heart?

Jiao Qi endured and endured, barely suppressing the urge to slap him across the face: “I knew you wouldn’t dare say it. You’re afraid I’m a corporate spy, right? You really are pathetic!”

“Hmph, trying to use reverse psychology to make me spill my secrets,” the President said, tearing open his wife’s shirt with a ferocious expression, “I won’t fall for it! How could I possibly tell you that I love you so much it hurts, and that I want to be with you for the rest of my life, even if you’re only with me for the money.”

The sudden confession left Jiao Qi stunned. It took a while for him to process it: “Who wants your money?”

What was all this about? As expected, these were lines straight out of a book.

“Whatever you want, I will give you,” Zhang Chenfei braced himself up, looking at his wife with a smile, his eyes filled with tenderness.

“Who am I?” Jiao Qi stared into his eyes.

“Yanyan,” Zhang Chenfei said without hesitation, kissing those moist lips. Back at the nightclub, Jiao Qi had drunk a glass of wine, and the intoxicating flavor still lingered on his lips, making it impossible not to taste it again and again.

Jiao Qi licked the corner of his mouth and threw his arms around the big head: “Seeing as you didn’t cheat at the nightclub, I’ll spare you for now… mmm…”

After tossing and turning until the small hours, the satisfied President fell asleep while softly snoring. Jiao Qi stayed awake, tapping his neural assistant.

“What was I doing on the 3rd, 16th, and 28th of last month?”

The assistant pulled up his work schedule.

【August 3rd: Launch of new features on the live-streaming platform; executive dinner; returned home at 10:20 PM.】

【August 16th: Evening banquet for the inauguration of Zhao Tengfei, President of Feiteng Company.】

【August 28th: A bug occurred during the video platform’s Qixi Festival half-price membership promotion; all staff worked overtime; returned home at 12:30 AM.】

The 28th was that actually Qixi Festival?

He vaguely remembered a phone call Zhang Da-diao made him that afternoon.

“What time are you off work tonight? I’ll come pick you up and take you to get something good to eat.”

Jiao Qi touched the large hand wrapped around his waist, slowly slipped his own hand inside it, and was immediately gripped tightly. He rubbed his thumb against the soft web of his husband’s hand, nuzzled his head against that solid chest, and went to sleep.

The next day, Zhang Chenfei woke up in a haze, feeling a headache. He winced and rubbed his temples, unable to remember what had happened yesterday. Sensing the warm body beside him, he habitually pulled it into his arms.

…

“Heh, that’s not nearly enough!”

“Shut up!”

…

The lines from last night, with their off-the-charts levels of embarrassment, surged into Zhang Da-diao’s chaotic brain like a rising tide. The President sat up with a start, his face turning pale and then blue.

Oh heavens, what had he done over these last two days!

He had taken Jiao Qi to a nightclub!

He had bragged about having many lovers!

He had thrown a check at Jiao Qi after sleeping with him!

He had taken Jiao Qi to his office at the company for some “office fun”!

Oh heavens! This was the fast track to a divorce!