Who Cares About Him When I'm Married to the Richest Man?-Chapter 175: So Awkward: Setting the Frequency
Zion Fitzwilliam heard this, and his expression didn’t change a bit. He just calmly instructed, "Send the camera and recorder to the tech department to analyze the information, the rabbits..."
The fondness Elara Hale had for the rabbits earlier flashed through his mind, and a hint of a smile appeared in his eyes. He continued, "Restore the rabbits to their original state and deliver them tomorrow."
Miles Morgan respectfully replied, "Yes."
After hanging up the phone, Zion Fitzwilliam casually spun his phone in his hand a few times, his gaze instinctively drifting towards the bathroom where the sound of running water was coming from.
The bathroom was designed with separate wet and dry areas, so he couldn’t see any outlines from the outside, but his mind couldn’t help wandering off.
After a while, he took a deep breath and turned back to the bedroom.
When Elara Hale finished her shower and came out, she saw Zion Fitzwilliam sitting at the desk watching his computer. She glanced at it; it seemed to be some data. Then, looking again at the trend lines, flickering red and green, she asked with some surprise, "You’re trading stocks?"
Zion Fitzwilliam was a step slow in his action, failing to close the stock trends of a subsidiary in time. Hearing her, he nodded nonchalantly, "Yes, I occasionally look at them."
As he spoke, he closed the page.
In fact, he usually wouldn’t bother to check the stock of a small subsidiary, but since this subsidiary had just gone public, he was just tracking the market trends.
He closed it too quickly, and his expression appeared a bit guilty. Elara couldn’t help but laugh, while drying her hair, saying, "Why are you so nervous? I’m not going to interfere with these things. Although we’re married, our finances are independent. I won’t overstep."
Zion Fitzwilliam internally smiled bitterly, he wished she would overstep.
He stood up, "I’m going for a shower."
His steps carried a hint of hasty retreat.
Once the bedroom quieted down, Elara Hale thought of the decision she had made before, feeling a bit anxious again. She gathered her spirits to blow-dry her hair, and just as she finished, Zion Fitzwilliam came in.
Elara was startled, "You, you showered so fast."
Zion Fitzwilliam found it strange, her demeanor seemed a bit off, almost like... she was tense seeing him come in?
But he didn’t ask directly, just nodded, "Yeah, we guys just wash quickly."
Elara nodded, put away the hair dryer, hesitated for a moment, then mustered the courage to say, "We... are already a couple now. If you have... if you have needs in that area, you can let me know... because I don’t know what your... frequency needs are, so... in short, I’ll try to... cooperate."
These words were so embarrassing to say, Elara’s ears turned completely red. After all, nearly two weeks had passed since they last unintentionally had intimate contact, and she feared Zion Fitzwilliam might have needs but be too shy to say so.
Even though they had decided to be a normal couple, it would be best to reach a consensus on this sooner rather than later, otherwise it would be an endless awkwardness.
Zion Fitzwilliam didn’t expect Elara to bring up this subject, showing a visible trace of astonishment in his eyes. For a moment, he was at a loss on how to respond, just staring at her.
Elara, feeling so awkward that she almost scratched herself a villa with her toes, turned her eyes away to avoid his gaze.
"Say something... what do you think... we need to communicate, right?"
Zion Fitzwilliam struggled to suppress the corners of his mouth that were harder to hold down than an AK.
What was he thinking, what could he think, of course, he wanted to be a nightly Romeo!
But too eagerly might scare her, so he tentatively asked, "What are you thinking?"
Elara felt so embarrassed that she didn’t know where to put her face... though she knew Zion Fitzwilliam respected her, but bringing this up herself was too embarrassing.
"I... I think whatever the frequency, as per your needs, I... I’m okay with it..."
Once she finished these words, she felt like she was going to crumble.
Zion Fitzwilliam didn’t want to make things difficult for her, so he thought for a moment and said, "How about we start with once a week, I’ll make sure to perform well, and then we’ll see how things develop. If it doesn’t bother you, we could gradually shorten the intervals."
Elara’s heart skipped a beat.
Once a week? Is that frequent? She thought maybe once every two weeks or once a month would be enough, after all, isn’t sex supposed to be founded on love? And he swings both ways, is his interest in women that high?
Honestly, she felt a little panicked about this frequency...
Zion Fitzwilliam, observing her expression, realized he was indeed being a bit hasty and casually explained, "I heard that sexual intimacy between couples is a very important element in maintaining a relationship. Have you heard the saying about how couples quarrel at the head of the bed but reconcile at the foot? No matter how big the barrier, or what problems arise, as long as the intimacy is normal, the relationship won’t cool down."
Elara felt his words made sense. After all, both of them were trying to make their life together work well, so it’s only natural to help each other in this regard.
So she nodded, agreeing, "Okay."
The room fell silent for a moment.
Zion Fitzwilliam cleared his throat softly, "Well, we..."
Elara belatedly realized what he meant, quickly saying, "I only brought this up today to discuss it, not intending for today to be the day... you know, I’m not feeling great today, worried it would affect the experience. How about tomorrow?"
Even if there’s a wait for some intimacy, Zion Fitzwilliam wouldn’t refuse, so he slightly raised the corners of his mouth and nodded, "Okay."
That night, the two of them lay in bed as they had for the past two weeks, still embracing in each other’s arms, though whose heart was racing half the night, no one could say.
The next day was Saturday, and Elara Hale, as usual, went to her father’s house. David Hales was happy to see her, while Yvette Sommers maintained her cold attitude, though she pretended to be warmer due to fear of being thrown out.
David Hales’s leg could now independently walk for short durations, and according to the rehabilitation doctor’s estimate, within three months at most, he would be able to engage in relatively longer activities, and within six months, he would be like an ordinary person. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂
Elara was pleased for her father since someone who was believed to be paralyzed for the rest of their life was now looking forward to life again.
Lately, David Hales’s mental state had also changed dramatically, no longer consumed by gloom and doom but embodying a sunny disposition. He even proactively spoke to Elara about Aidan Sommers’ grades.
"That kid scored first in his class in the monthly exam, oh, you might not know yet? Last month he was transferred to the honors class due to his outstanding performance, and getting first in the honors class is equivalent to being first in the entire school!"
Elara was somewhat surprised, "Really? That kid’s got some skills."
Yvette Sommers, speaking about her son, also showed more pride, warmly saying, "The teacher called me that day, saying if he can maintain his current grades, getting into The Ivies will be no problem."
Elara was relieved. Aidan Sommers had never been a bad kid; he was just sensitive and overly defensive, perhaps having taken some wrong turns, but ultimately found his way back to the right path.
She was quite happy for Aidan Sommers.
Originally, Elara intended to stay for lunch, but before the meal, she received a distress call from Jean Dunn.
"Elara, help! Save the dog’s life!"
Elara thought something serious had happened and quickly asked, "What’s going on?"
Jean Dunn wailed, "It’s my mom again. My cousin is getting married today; my parents have gone on a trip and insist I must attend the wedding. They say that showing up along with the gift proves you care. But my boyfriend doesn’t want me to go. Could you go for me?"
Elara was puzzled, "Why doesn’t your boyfriend want you to go? It’s your family’s event after all."
Jean Dunn sighed, "You don’t know how he is—self-conscious and sensitive. He always feels my family looks down on him, so he avoids any gatherings related to my family whenever possible. He loves me deeply; I can understand where he’s coming from."
Elara sighed, hesitated to speak further, but in the end, exercised tact and simply said, "Alright."
Jean Dunn was relieved when she heard Elara agree, and quickly said, "I’ll transfer you the money shortly. My cousin’s family is a bit well-off; my mom wants me to give sixteen thousand. Just write my name, and it’ll be fine."
Elara asked, "Can I leave after delivering the gift?"
Jean Dunn chuckled, "Feel free to grab a meal if you want! The wedding is at the Sheraton; I hear it’s quite extravagant with premium seafood and all. If you have the chance, you could say hello to my cousin for me. Her name is Gigi Hathaway, a really nice person."
Elara replied, "Got it, I’ll see how it goes."
She was merely helping run an errand, not intending to exploit the situation for a free meal. If she happened to run into Jean Dunn’s cousin at the entrance, she’d say hello; otherwise, she’d consider it done.
After hanging up, Jean Dunn transferred the money, and Elara withdrew it from the nearest ATM and bought a large red envelope at a convenience store, stuffing it thickly.
Following Jean Dunn’s directions, Elara headed over and was greeted by a huge red banner displaying the hotel’s exterior upon arrival. The entrance was laid with an extended red carpet, adorned with bouquets of flowers—a truly romantic and splendid setup.
Elara clicked her tongue in awe; this wedding was quite an affair. Who knew Jean Dunn had such influential relatives? Why not pick a boyfriend from within her circle instead of sticking to one troubled person?
She entered the hotel only to find the interior even more lavish. Guests were evidently affluent, showing an unmistakable divide from ordinary people.
Elara didn’t pay much attention to them and proceeded to the reception desk to deliver Jean Dunn’s gift. Just as she finished writing her name, a sharp voice from behind startled her, "Elara? What are you doing here?"
Turning around, she saw Rosalind Jacobs.
Northgarde isn’t huge but it’s not exactly tiny, either, yet somehow she always seemed to run into someone from the Jacobs family.
She remained silent, aggravating Rosalind Jacobs, who stormed over, glaring at her, "Hey, I’m talking to you. What’s up with your attitude? Answer me—what are you doing here? Did you deliberately follow knowing my brother would be here?"
Elara was quiet not out of fear of Rosalind Jacobs; she simply found it absurd. There seemed to be an impassable barrier between her and the Jacobs family—they never seemed to understand anything she said.
In Rosalind Jacobs’ eyes, no matter what Elara did, it was always about coveting her brother—wanting to return to the Jacobs family as Mrs. Jacobs.
No explanation would convince Rosalind Jacobs otherwise.
So now, Elara wouldn’t even bother explaining, saying simply, "I’m here as a favor for someone, nothing to do with you."
With that, she turned to leave.
But Rosalind Jacobs wouldn’t let her go. To her, Elara was just a servant—obedient and diligent—and even after the divorce, Rosalind still considered Elara a lowly person under her heel. And now, this woman dared challenge her. This dismissive attitude was intolerable.
"What’s wrong? Afraid because I caught you in the act, and now you want to run?" Rosalind Jacobs sneered, blocking Elara’s path. "You messed with my mom last time. That crazy woman kidnapped and threatened her, and I haven’t had time to deal with you. Now that you’ve shown up, let’s settle new and old scores!"
Elara frowned, "What kidnapping threat? I don’t know anything about it, so don’t pin everything on me."
"Still denying it? That woman warned my mom not to mess with you, said you were under her protection—you’re saying you had no clue about this?" Rosalind Jacobs questioned fiercely.
Just then, a cool voice intervened from behind, "Rosalind, stop making things up."
Mason Jacobs walked up to Elara, apologetically saying, "You know how Rosalind is; please don’t take it personally. Are you here for the wedding today?"
Rosalind stomped her foot, displeased, "Brother!"
Why was her brother suddenly defending Elara so much?
She hadn’t even had a chance to settle things with this woman!
Mason Jacobs shot her a warning look, "Go inside; don’t forget today’s task."
Rosalind hesitated but eventually turned, glaring at Elara, and stomped off inside.
Mason Jacobs casually placed one hand in his pocket, looking at Elara, suggesting, "Though we’re divorced, we agreed to remain friends if we ever met again. Would you like to go in for a drink?"
Elara curled her lips into a smile, declining, "No thanks, I’ve got things to do—gotta run."
As she was about to turn away, Mason Jacobs grabbed her arm, causing Elara’s face to darken, "Mason Jacobs, let go! You know how skilled my husband is—are you really seeking more trouble?"
Upon hearing this, Mason Jacobs’ eyes flickered with anger. Despite currently looking suave and poised in his suit, he knew how hard Zion Fitzwilliam had hit him last night.
The bruises on his face were painstakingly concealed with powder; numerous bruises covered his body, and the broken ribs were braced, causing him severe pain like a dull knife slicing through flesh.
Had he not been aware that Mrs. Grayson would also be attending today, crucial for the company’s future and development, he’d definitely be bedridden, recovering for a month.
All thanks to that damned Zion.
Seething with rage, Mason Jacobs fantasized about slicing Zion Fitzwilliam piece by piece. He believed one day the opportunity would present itself.
On the surface, however, his smile remained graceful. Having seen Elara today, he was determined not to let her leave easily—it was a golden opportunity. After drawing her in and offering a couple of drinks, she’d be out cold.
And then, the situation was his to dictate.
