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Chapter 688
Jareth slumped into the living room, his mood a heavy thundercloud. Lily had just coaxed Marilla to
sleep and was descending the staircase.
His gaze lifted wearily, clashing inadvertently with hers, startling her so much that she quickly lowered
her head.
“Don’t hang your head so low. Burying it in the ground, what, you’re an ostrich?” He said with a hint of
irritation knitting his brows.
Jareth settled onto the couch, pulling a cigarette from its pack and placing it between his lips, but he
hesitated to light it, remembering Marilla hated the smell of smoke.
Lily dared not lift her gaze. Usually so aloof and proud in front of others, she now stood there, meek
and guilt–ridden, wishing she could disappear into a crack in the floor.
“Come here.”
The few steps to Jareth felt like an eternity for Lily.
“Is Marilla asleep?” His voice was a deep rumble.
“Yes.” Lily’s voice trembled, her eyes downcast, “I’ll pack my things and leave right away. I won’t trouble
you any further.”
“Stay,” Jareth commanded coldly, yet his words were a reprieve to Lily.
“You and Marilla are like sisters. I know she can’t even eat without you.”
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Jareth plucked the cigarette from his mouth and snapped it in his hand, his heart not quite hard enough
to dismiss this woman who had been so loyal to him, “Stay and take care of Marilla. Even though
you’ve ruined a couple of her dresses with your clumsy laundry skills and your cooking is mediocre at
best. I trust no one else with her. Just don’t let there be a second time, or I won’t fire you; I’ll chop you.”
The threat was obviously in jest, yet Lily still felt the weight of shame; head down, she barely held back
tears.
“I’m sorry, I won’t let it happen again.”
Deep into the night.
Jareth, dressed in a pajama set that matched his wife’s, was reviewing documents by the soft glow of a
floor lamp. He wasn’t possessed by the workaholic spirit of a Thaddeus; he was simply restless and
unable to sleep, looking for a distraction.
“Uh, don’t hit me! Don’t hit me!”
Suddenly, Marilla kicked the covers in her sleep, her body twisting as if pinned down, her cries muffled
with panic, “Don’t hit me, don’t hit me! I’m a retard, I’m an idiot! Please, stop hitting me!”
“Marilla!”
Jareth’s pupils contracted, and he rushed to the bedside, scooping her slender waist and holding this
girl trapped in a nightmare into his arms, “It’s okay, it’s okay. Your husband’s right here; don’t be afraid.”
“Don’t hit me, please stop.”
He held her tightly, his hand patting her damp back, “Who’s hitting you, Marilla? Tell me, who?”
Marilla’s eyes flew open, panting heavily, a cold sweat soaking her skin.
“Marilla, who’s been bullying you? Tell me, who?”
Jareth’s eyes were a fierce red, his tone insistent and fierce, “If anyone dares touch you, I’ll flay them!”
A day full of thoughts led to a night full of dreams. If something hadn’t happened, why would Marilla
suffer such nightmares?
Yet he always kept his wife well protected. Lily was almost always by her side at school. Who could
possibly bully her?
‘No, nobody”
Marilla wrapped her arms around him, shaking her head, “It must have been the scare earlier. Just a
nightmare. Nobody has
bullied me.*
She wanted to forget those memorjes more terrifying than her nightmares, as if they never happened,
especially since the one who had hurt her was Jareth’s own sister
Blood was thicker than water, she didn’t want to make her loved one choose sides.
“Really, Manilla? it was just a nightmare?” Jareth kissed her forehead, his lips cold with fear.
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“Yes, just a dream.”
Marilla’s eyes were tearful as she returned the kiss to his Adam’s apple, “Let’s sleep together. With you
by my side, I’m not afraid of anything.”
Jareth had been restraining himself due to the injuries on her body, but with his wife’s gentle
provocation, his blood boiled. He gently pressed her into the mattress, kissing her collarbone, her chin,
her lips and then, like a wildfire, he became even more passionate.
Their desires surged like the tide, their love ebbed like the sea.
Marilla’s youthful charm and tender vulnerabilities always moved Jareth deeply, leaving him insatiable.
Her slender waist arched exquisitely, lifting high, each inch fitting deeper.
The moon outside paled in comparison.
Because of Jareth’s audacious stunt of turning the plane around yesterday, he missed an important
meeting. So today he rose early, ready to meet with Barry at the family estate to apologize as a matter
of routine.
Marilla had no habit of lingering in bed; when he woke, she woke too, helping him into his suit, tying his
tie, increasingly taking on the role of a dutiful wife.
Jareth sat cross–legged on the sofa, scanning financial news on his iPad, while his wife was
showering.
That was when Lily walked in with breakfast.
“Lily, Jareth said, his voice lazy and husky from sleep, “the bedsheets are dirty; change them, please.”
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