Mr & Mrs by Alexa Riley
An Alexa Riley Promise #1
Welcome to Alexa Riley Promises. This series is dedicated to old romances. It’s tropes galore, with all of our usual over-the-top alphas and sweet cheesy goodness.
These short books will focus on traditional and classic tropes while sticking to the Alexa Riley code: no cheating and always with an HEA. That’s our Promise to you.
Mr and Mrs
Phillip has been married to Molly for a year. He’s beyond obsessed with his new wife, to the point that he has to hold his true feelings back. If she knew how crazy he is for her, she might push him away.
Molly is feeling distance growing between them, and she’s worried she’s not enough. One night she walks in on Phillip, and it changes everything.
When Phillip discovers Molly was in an accident and now has amnesia, he’s going to do all he can to make her fall in love with him again. Holding nothing back this time.
Warning: It’s just as crazy as it sounds and just as over-the-top ridiculous. If you want to get silly with us and spend a little time away from reality, grab this one up!
Chapter 2 *Phillip*
I wake up with a start, looking at my watch and seeing I overslept. I stretch my neck, trying to work out the kink from sleeping on this damn couch. I just meant to lie here for a few minutes before I left to go home. I’ve been sleeping so poorly lately that I needed just a quick nap to try to catch up.
The merger last year went smoothly, but the last few months have been hell. I’ve been working myself to the bone every night. I never get to see Molly, so at night when I go home, all I want to do is make love to her, needing a taste of her to hold me over, hoping to keep at bay the need I have for her. Then, when she passes out, I spend the rest of the night just holding her and watching her sleep. I can’t help it. I’m obsessively in love with her. It can’t be healthy, but I gave that fight up a long time ago. It is what it is. There’s no fighting this need I have for her.
I’d learned that early on. She woke up my whole world the moment I laid eyes on her. Feelings I’d never felt before came to life. I’d never needed another person before. Maybe because I’d never had one be there for me. From very early on in life I was alone, and I’d rather liked it like that. I didn’t want to be one of the foster kids begging for attention or clamoring to be adopted. I knew I’d only need myself.
I’d busted my ass through school, then college, saving every extra penny from the underground fighting I’d been doing to pay my bills. Then I starting investing in one thing after another. Seemed I had a good eye for what would be the next big thing. It became like an addiction. It was all I thought about: how could I make my hedge fund firm grow? And that had worked for me until she came strolling into my life.
Now she’s my addiction. In my every thought and every action. Making me want and crave things I never thought I wanted. I don’t want to waste a minute when I’m with her, least of all waste it sleeping. I keep telling myself I’ll sleep when I’m dead, but it’s starting to catch up to me.
I’ve got a big weekend planned, though, and if I can just make it through until then, it will all be perfect. I’ve been training my replacement the past six months, getting him in here and showing him all that I do. It’s taken long hours, and I haven’t told Molly. After we were first married, I tried to hold back on my need for her. She’s so young and beautiful, and I didn’t want to smother her with all that I wanted. She’s a blossoming flower, and I felt like the shadows keeping her all to myself. I didn’t want her to wilt and resent me for isolating her. So I worked hard and tried to hold myself back, telling myself that it was for her so that she could be happy. No woman wants her husband to suffocate her. I wanted her to make friends here and have a new life here. If it was up to me, it would be the two of us in our own home away from the city. I selfishly want her all to myself. The thought of being locked up with her in a house by the ocean and never leaving sounds like a dream come true. I never would have wanted something like that before Molly, but she changed all that for me. Made me want something else.
Sitting up from my couch, I try to rub out the wrinkles on my pants. I lay here too long and now I look like a mess. I’m anxious to get home to her, but I know the second I walk in the door I’ll be on her. It’s not fair how strong my need is for her. I can’t expect her to want sex with me every morning and every night. No woman wants it that much. Before, I didn’t give two shits about sex. It was always about the next deal or the next move I could make to expand my company. That was what used to get me off. What drove me each day. I would get lost in my work, and now all I want is to get lost in her.
I slip on my shoes and go over to grab my coat and keys and head out of my office. I’m surprised when I see Cary sitting at her desk. I told her to go home hours ago. She’s becoming a problem. Ryan, my replacement, hired her. Since he was the one to take over the day-to-day operations, I told him he could replace Debra as whoever he got would be working with him and not with me. I was so sad to see Debra go. She’d been the only mother figure I’d ever had in my life, but I couldn’t fault her for wanting to spend time with her husband. I felt the exact same way.
“Cary, why are you here? It’s almost eleven.” I don’t wait for her response, walking past her to the elevator and hitting the button. I plan on calling Ryan on the way home and telling him to get rid of her. I don’t care if I have a week left. He’s a married man himself, and we don’t need that kind of shit happening here.
“Phillip, I wanted to talk. Maybe we could grab a drink before you head home.”
I hear her behind me as I wait for the elevator to open. It takes everything in me not to turn and yell at her. Her mere presence annoys me, and I’m so fucking tired. I’ve caught her a few times trying to flirt with me. At first I thought maybe I was misreading her, but it has become clear that wasn’t the case. Thankfully, the elevator dings and the doors open. I walk in and turn, looking at her.
“I’ve told you repeatedly not to call me Phillip, and I’m not interested. Nor is it appropriate to get a drink with you. I told you to leave at five o’clock, so I’ll assume your timesheet will reflect that instead of the late hour. This is unprofessional, and I’ll be speaking to Mr. Arrow about this.” Reaching out, I press the button for the first floor and watch her face turn panicky as the doors shut. I don’t have time to try to figure out what that means. I’m beyond ready to get home to my Molly and see her beautiful face.
I end up hailing a cab home, not wanting to use a driver or take the train this late. On the cab ride home, I talk to Ryan and explain to him that Cary is a problem. He assures me that he will speak to her first thing and that she won’t be there after that. It’s the part of the job I hate the most, but it’s a necessary evil. Someone like Cary is looking to bed a rich man, and I didn’t spend years building my company so a piece of ass could drag the new leader of our company through the mud. There are plenty of willing men, and I’m not saying Ryan is a saint, but work isn’t where this needs to go down.
When the cab pulls up outside our building, I throw some money at the cabbie and climb out. My heart is racing already and I try to calm it. If it was up to me, I’d go barreling into the condo and sweep Molly up in an embrace, leading us to fuck like rabbits on the kitchen counter. I’d spend all night talking to her and telling her how much I love her.
But I can’t do that.
She’s probably already in bed, trying to get her rest from when I wake her in the night. Sometimes my need for her is so strong it overpowers my good sense and I wake her up, taking her when she’s still half asleep. I feel ashamed of myself that I can’t control my love for her, and I’m trying to do better. Last night I just sat in the chair by the bed and watched her sleep. I knew if I got into bed, I would want more, and she needs her rest. I don’t want her to think it’s all about sex.
I keep telling myself that when I quit and we have more time together, that this insatiable need for her will pass. We’ve been married for a year now, and I’m scared because it’s only gotten worse. The longer we’re together, the deeper my feelings get. But I’ve got a plan to stop working and start our marriage in a new way. It may be hard for her to spend so much time with me, but I’m hoping we can do things she likes together so she won’t feel like I’m a burden.
When I walk into our penthouse, I place my house keys and phone on the table by the door and feel myself frown. The picture I gave her for her birthday still hasn’t been hung. I’d taken a picture of the first place I’d ever kissed her and framed it. It was in the library at her father’s house, a room I knew she loved. I didn’t explain the reason I took it because she seemed so disappointed when she saw it. I just stumbled over telling her it was because I knew she loved all the books. I thought that maybe giving her something that was hers to place in our home would spur her to put her own things around the house. Touches of her. I’d even told her where I thought the picture would look nice—where we walk into our home every day. She’d given me a tight smile, and the picture remains in a box in the corner of the room.
I told her she could do whatever she wanted to our space here, but she seemed uninterested in that idea. We’d talked about getting a place of our own, and that had excited her. She told me details about what she wanted, and so I hired an architect, relayed what she wanted and had him draw it up for me. I wanted to have a place built as the fairy tale she described, and then I’d surprise her with it.
That’s what this coming weekend has been about. Planning everything down to the last detail, all while wrapping up work. For good.
When I walk past the kitchen counter, I notice something there, but I keep on going. I’m too anxious to see Molly to stop and check out something I saw out of the corner of my eye.
Walking into the bedroom, I can tell something is off. I don’t feel her in the room. I flip on the overhead light in a slight panic, and when I see the bed is pristine, a nervousness falls over me.
“Molly?” I call, thinking maybe she’s in the bathroom. But as I start to search the house, I see that every room is silent and empty of her energy.
“Molly!” This time I shout down the hall, letting my panic set in. It’s time for her to stop playing games.
I hurry to the front of the condo, grab my phone, and go to the kitchen. I check my messages but don’t see one from her, so I send one, checking in. She must have forgotten to tell me she was out doing something tonight. Maybe I can meet up with her. I miss her so much already, and I don’t like the idea of her being out so late without me. I should have been here to go with her. I shake my head at myself.
I wait for just a moment, and my eyes slide over to what caught my eye when I first entered. It’s a small piece of paper, and I reach out and slide it toward me.
I feel as if someone has punched me in the gut. I look over to see her wedding rings on the granite next to it, and I fall to my knees. My heart is beating in my ears, and I can’t process what’s happening. It’s like I’m in a tunnel, but I’m falling. My breath comes out fast, and I see black spots in my vision. Just before the blackness takes over, the words flash again in front of me.
I can’t do this. Don’t follow me.
About the author
Alexa Riley is two sassy friends who got together and wrote some dirty books. They are both married moms of two who love football, donuts, and obsessed book heroes.
They specialize in insta-love, over-the-top, sweet, and cheesy love stories that don’t take all year to read. If you want something SAFE, short, and always with a happily ever after, then Alexa Riley is for you!