Take My Breath Away

'Chantel's pregnant, but why is Gifford so angry? As soon as he got back, he stomped upstairs angrily to find Chantel. What on earth happened?' Blair thought to herself.

In order to assuage Blair's fears, Gifford opened the door and told his mom, "I'm mad, Mom, not nuts. Chantel's my wife. I'm not going to hurt my wife or my kid."

Blair breathed a sigh of relief and told her son, "Just take some deep breaths! And count to ten before you say or do anything."

Gifford was helpless. He wasn't going to hurt Chantel. He just wanted to talk. "Okay, I get it. Why don't you go play with your granddaughter?" he suggested. Wendy was here today, playing with Hugo downstairs.

Blair peeked into the room again. But Gifford was so tall she couldn't see anything past him, so she had to give in and go downstairs.

Bang! He slammed the door, and Chantel's heart thumped violently. He was mad, and she was afraid.

She stared at the man who approached her again and said quickly, "If you hit me, I'll scream!"

When he heard what she said, Gifford suddenly laughed. "Wow, do you really think I'm like that? After all this time?"

Where could she have cooked up such a ridiculous idea? She was pregnant with his child. What kind of man would he be if he beat her? He treated her with kid gloves. He was fairly strong, and didn't really even playfully punch her.

Chantel shook her head. He was so handsome. He sure didn't look violent. But she knew his temper. She'd gotten his goat enough times to know that he could lose his cool quickly.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Gifford stopped in front of her. "So...you have something to tell me?"

Chantel thought for a while and then shook her head.

"Do you love someone else? Is that why most people don't know you're married?" he asked.

"What are you talking about?" Chantel asked, confused.

Gifford pulled her wrist and brought her to the table again. He pointed at the marriage certificates and said, "Okay, if you love me, then why haven't you posted them on the Internet?"

Chantel slowly took out her phone and took a photo of the marriage certificates.

Under the man's satisfied eyes, she put away her phone.

Gifford was a little confused. "Okay? You posted it

"These things take time. I need to consult with my agent and my PR team first. Once I get with them, I'll know more." After all, she was not just accountable to herself and her husband. She had an image, and it needed to be maintained. There were rock stars who had gotten married, and their record companies got angry. Who was going to lust after a married person?

Gifford lost his temper. "Your agent? Your PR team? Chantel, I'm your husband. I'm the only person you should be worried about. What the hell? Why are you all business-like about this?"

"It's not that I don't want to go public about our marriage. But you don't love me, remember. I am worried about you. That's why I haven't told anyone!" Chantel blurted out her innermost thoughts in a hurry.

After a short silence, Gifford asked, "Worried about me? Why? How does our marriage change anything?"

"Aren't you seeing someone?" Chantel asked in a small voice.

"What? What are you talking about?" Gifford asked in disbelief.

Chantel bit her lower lip and said, "Don't hide it from me. I've seen you enter a villa with that woman. And you were holding her too. I saw it!" Yes, she had seen it with her own eyes.

She saw them in Y City a year ago. She remembered that summer quite well.

'A woman? Villa? Holding her?'

Gifford racked his brain, and finally realized what she was talking about. He hadn't been with many women—he never thought he had time. He smacked his forehead and said, "Oh, that! I can explain."

Chantel, however, said acidly, "I never told Mom or Dad. I never told anyone. So, as long as you're not divorcing me, I won't say another word about it." She didn't want his parents-in-law to worry about them. She thought she'd quietly endure it. But it hurt her more than she was willing to admit. She wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Gifford put his hands on his hips and asked impatiently, "Okay. So if I was seeing someone else, you wouldn't mind?"

He suddenly realized something. She was the one who was in charge of their relationship. She chose to sleep with him and get pregnant. It was always her choice. He always thought she loved him, but now he wasn't so sure. Why was he doing all the heavy lifting in this relationship?

'I wouldn't mind? Of course I mind.' Chantel smiled bitterly. He was her husband. How could she not mind him going out with other women?

The bitterness at the corner of her mouth stung his eyes. "What the—" Resisting the urge to swear, Gifford explained patiently, "I was on a mission back then. I was undercover. I had to pretend to love her. For the mission. Get it?" She didn't know what she was seeing was a fiction. He dropped the pretense in less than two days and put her behind bars.

"What?" Chantel's mind was blown for a bit, and then it started making sense.

Blair once told her a story of Wesley's exploits. He'd taken on an alias and even "married" a woman when he went undercover for a mission.

She didn't expect that Gifford might have to do the same.

Looking at the woman who was suddenly enlightened, Gifford went to hold her hand and let her sit down on the bed. He sat next to her and said, "Come on, so what else do you want to know? What are you confused about? I don't want there to be any secrets between us."

He was going to settle the problems with his marriage once and for all, and he wouldn't leave this room until he did.

Staring at Gifford for a long time, Chantel finally said, "I have only one question.

Do you love me?"

Gifford had sworn to himself that no one would leave this room until everything was cleared. But he didn't think that he'd be left here alone, that Chantel would leave the room.

Gifford lit a cigarette, and then another, and yet another, trying to get the courage up to confess his love. When he thought he was ready, he headed downstairs. "Chantel's gone. The CEO of her agency came by to pick her up himself." Blair told him.

'Huh? Her CEO came by to pick her up in person?'

As far as he knew, the CEO of her agency was a man. 'Why would a rich, single man come here to pick up my wife? Why not send a driver? He must be crazy! Or after my wife!'

Suppressing his anger, Gifford turned and went upstairs. In less than two minutes, he ran downstairs again. He looked at Blair thoughtfully, but said nothing.

Blair's hair stood on end under his gaze. "What are you doing? Are you insane?"

Out of nowhere, Wesley popped out and slapped on the back of Gifford's head. "God, you're about as dense as I am! Go find your wife! You really want another man to win her heart? Go after her, unless you like crying alone!"

Gifford really wanted to go to his wife, but he said stubbornly, "He wouldn't try anything! He'd rot in jail if he destroyed our marriage!"

"Okay, forget it. Just let him go to jail, then!" Wesley spat as he went upstairs.

Anyway, what Blair said was meant to light a fire under his backside. Wesley knew the truth, so he was not anxious at all.

It was true that Chantel had left, but her agent had picked her up, not the CEO. It wouldn't make any sense if he did.

Gifford went and locked himself in his room, and got Sheffield on the phone. He needed his advice, and they talked for more than two hours.

Sheffield was almost driven mad by this phone call. "Dude, I'm seriously busy. I have to let you go. I have a meeting later!" He had been talking with a man for two hours, and people might think he was gay.

"No way. I need to know what to do. After all, you're the ladies' man."

Sheffield patted his forehead helplessly. "Didn't I already tell you? I asked you to sweet talk your wife. Buy her something. Look at Matthew. He's as cold as a fish, but he knows how to talk to your sister occasionally. Women are emotional, and you have to talk to them nicely. That's the only way out of this!"

Then Gifford hung up the phone.

Sheffield sat there and stared at the phone. He was a little taken aback that Gifford hung up so abruptly.