Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 164

Emma stared at him in disbelief. “Wait, are you seriously saying there’s something wrong with you?”

Theodore fell silent, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

“Can you hear yourself? Think before you speak!” Emma was getting worked up now.

She slapped his hand away. “Let me tell you something. The people who get the most defensive are usually the most insecure. For example, if someone’s genuinely beautiful and someone calls her ugly, she won’t care—because she knows the truth. But take me, for instance. Back in the day, if someone made a comment about my feet, I’d be furious, because I knew my feet really were terrible.”

“So what’s your point with all this rambling?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “My point is, you’re so upset because it really is true, isn’t it? If you were confident, you wouldn’t be this bothered by what I said.”

“You…” He was so exasperated, he could barely get the words out. “Unbelievable! You’ve gotten so sharp-tongued lately—I’ve known you for twelve years and you’ve never been this quick on the draw! Who the hell have you been learning from?”

Emma just scoffed. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Oh really? What else don’t I know? Like, say, what’s going on between you and that guy from your dance class?” His gaze darkened.

“Theodore! Show some respect!” She glared at him. Did he think everyone was as rotten as he was?

“Oh, I should be respectful, Mrs. Whitman? Tell me, have you ever respected your husband? Or, since we’re being honest, have you ever respected your benefactor?” He swept her up in his arms, trapping her. “You’re spending my money, learning to talk back from who-knows-where, and bringing that sass home to your husband. Do you think that’s fair to me?”

“Sleazy? You’re the sleazy one! Don’t assume everyone else is as low as you!” Emma shot back, furious.

Theodore carried her over to the bed in a few strides, tumbling onto it with her. “You really have no idea what you’re messing with, do you?”

“Let me go! I swear, if you don’t, I’ll pull your hair and bite your shoulder again!”

“Oh yeah? Go on, try it!” He tugged at her nightgown, threatening to rip it. “You enjoy all the perks of being Mrs. Whitman, spending my money—well, tonight, even if you bite my neck clean through, you’re going to pay me back in kind!”

So this was what he meant by “Mrs. Whitman’s duties…”

Emma was exhausted—arguing with him was pointless. She fought back the only way she could: digging her teeth into his shoulder. But no matter how hard she bit, he just gritted his teeth and hissed, “Go ahead! Bite me! Prove your point! You want to say I can’t do it? You haven’t even tried—how would you know?”

Her jaw started to ache. She finally let go, and out of the corner of her eye she spotted the vase on the nightstand. She grabbed it, brandishing it at him. “Let go of me! Or I swear, I’ll smash this over your head!”

Blood stained her lips from where she’d bitten him, and paired with her fierce glare, it gave her the look of a vampire—dangerous and chilling.

Emma nodded. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“You really don’t mind?” He still sounded suspicious.

She shook her head.

He sighed. “Fine. I forgive you. I know you’re only this sharp because of Cici. No matter what I say, you’re always suspicious of her. I’ve told you—once I get through these next few days at work, I’ll take you on a trip. Didn’t you say you wanted to make up for our lousy honeymoon? We’ll bring Grandma this time too, and you can stop being so jealous.”

On his way out, he even pinched her cheek.

Still convinced she was jealous.

Emma was done trying to explain—he never listened anyway.

Her mouth tasted salty, tinged with blood. Uncomfortable, she got up to rinse her mouth, and when she came out, she found Grandma waiting for her in the hallway.

Grandma looked worried. “Emmie, what on earth is going on between you two?”