The Perfect Husband's Secret novel Chapter 39

Chapter 20 

Gabriel 

The car pulls into the curb and I open the door. 

“Have a nice day,” Mark says as I climb out of the car. 

“You too.” 

“I walk in through the front doors of the Ferrara building and stride to the elevator. Roderick 

the attendant gives me a polite nod as he pushes the button. “Good morning, Mr. Ferrara.” 

“Morning.” 

I stare at the doors as I straighten my tie, I can feel all eyes on me as I wait. 

Hurry up. 

“Beautiful day today,” Roderick says, trying to make polite conversation. 

“It is.” 

Why is this elevator so slow? 

“Looking forward to getting to work today, sir?” 

My unimpressed eyes rise to meet his. “Why are you so chatty?” 

“Oh.” He gives me a lopsided smile. “I think it makes things less awkward.” 

My eyes hold his. “I disagree.” 

” 

The doors open and I walk past him into it and turn toward the front, I see his face fall as 

the doors close. 

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gh, every morning he annoys me with his perky can–do attitude. 

don’t want to talk to you. 

L 

Fuck off. 

I push the button and begin the climb to the top floor, the elevator stops on level three and I exhale heavily. 

The doors open and two men are waiting to get in, their faces fall when they see me and I raise an eyebrow. 

Sorry, Mr. Ferrara.” They stay where they are. 

I push the button to close the doors. I need a private elevator to this godforsaken place. 

Once upon a time I would get here earlier and train before work, I haven’t done that since… 

I run at home now before I come, the urge to get into the office early has left along with Miss Coleman. It’s no fun getting dressed in front of Greg. In fact, it’s no fun with Greg at all. 

He’s the most boring person I’ve ever met. Actually, the entire office is boring now. 

I’ve always been a workaholic, prided myself for my dedication to Ferrara Media. 

But lately… I hate coming here. 

I hate walking past her empty desk, I hate that nobody rolls their eyes at me or talks bag and gives me cheek. I hate that I can’t feel her eyes on me as I get dressed. I hate that I don’t feel my dick tingle when she chews the end of her pen. 

I hate that she left me. 

The doors open and I walk through reception. “Good morning, Mr. 

Ferrara.” 

o visitors today.” 

1 

apter 20 

“Yes, sir.” 

Topen the doors and walk through the desks, I see a few people standing and talking in the 

photocopier room and my blood boils, what do they think this is? 

I march over, their faces fall when they see me. “This isn’t a tea party. 

Get back to work.” 

“Yes, sir.” They scatter like mice. 

Iwalk into my office, slam the door, throw my briefcase onto the table and fall into my 

chair. 

This place is fucking ruined. 

Violet 

Debbie’s wide eyes hold mine. “Twins?” 

“Uh–huh.” 

“Like twin twins, like two babies twins?” 

“Yep.” 

“Hmm.” Deb has been shocked to silence, she sips her coffee as she chooses her next words, 

carefully. “Well… This is great,” she lies. 

I stare at her deadpan. “And how is this great?” 

“Well.” She holds her hands up all animated like. “Your family is done, you can stop after 

this if you want.” 

“I’ll be stopping, one hundred percent I’ll be stopping.” I sip my stupid decaf coffee as I think, even my coffee is ruined now. “A household where the children outnumber the 

adults is …” “Busy.” Deb cuts me off. “You’ll be busy.” I nod, not wanting to be a downer. 

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Oh my gosh, I saw the cutest thing in the shop on the way here. I’m getting it for you on the 

Wat out.” 

“What is it?” 

A memory box.” 

“What’s that?” I frown. 

“You know, like a cute little box that you put memorabilia in for your pregnancy. Your 

ultrasound pictures and any little notes or cards you get along the way.” 

I don’t want a memory box.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because the way I’m feeling, all I want to write in it is how this is all so unfair and I don’t 

want my child…” “Children.” Deb cuts me off. 

“Ugh, children to ever find out that I was crushing on my boss. They can never know about 

Gabriel and our one–night stand.” 

“You are not fatal attraction.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” 

I sip my coffee, annoyed that she’s right, I am so overdramatic at the moment, I can feel 

myself doing it but can’t seem to stop. 

“Fine, I’ll buy you two. One for the kids to find with all the cute fluffy stuff, and the other memory box a dumping ground for your heartbreak crap.” 

“Why would I want a dumping ground for my heartbreak?” 

“It will be therapeutic to write everything down and when you’re past this stage of your life and happily in love, you can throw this one out. Nobody will ever know…and the kids will still have their fluffy feel–good memory box to look through.” 

“Maybe.” I sigh, distracted. 

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Every time you put something in the happy memory box, you need to put something in the dumpster fire box.” 

I smile, something about that name tickles my fancy, “We’re calling it a dumpster fire box?” 

“Why not? Your love life is a complete dumpster fire, let’s be honest,” she mutters dryly, 

I giggle and hold my coffee cup up to cheers her. “You’ve got that right.” 

The afternoon glow begins to bounce off the water and I smile. My favorite part of the day is here. I grab my notepad and pen and slide the glass door open. “You coming out, Buds?” I 

call. 

My toffee–colored fluffball comes toddling down the stairs, life is bliss, I have a dog now. Buddy is the cutest thing that I never knew I needed. I went to the shelter to get a puppy and came home with an old man, not that I’m complaining, he’s perfect in every way. We 

wander down the stairs and sit. 

The sun setting over the lake is magical and one of the main reasons I bought this house. Although small and quaint, my home is like a fairy tale, filled with character and to–do projects. It’s a renovator’s delight. 

My dream home. 

As soon as I saw it I knew that I had to make it mine. Three acres of land situated on a point 

of the lake with one–hundred–and–eighty–degree water views on three sides. There’s a long, sweeping driveway lined with the most beautiful oak trees you have ever seen, and one day I’ll save up enough money to do a proper drive; for the moment it’s dirt road. 

At the front of the house is a sweeping veranda, a separate garage, and a garden, then the back of the house is all glass. It’s like a Swiss chalet with the upstairs inside the shingle roof 

with beautiful arbor windows. 

But the real magic of the house is the private wharf.