He thought I meant it! He honestly thought I meant it!
I raised an eyebrow. ‘And will you go to bed with her as part of your little charade, too?’
He cocked his head thoughtfully, as if this idea hadn’t yet occurred to him. ‘Do you think I should? If you believe it necessary, I suppose I could-’
What?
‘Argh!’ I gripped my head with both hands, trying to keep from pulling my hair out. ‘You’re impossible!’
‘I take objection to that.’
‘Oh, you do, do you?’
‘Indeed. The matter under discussion has nothing to do with the plausibility of my existence. I am quite certain that I exist. As the philosopher Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am”.’
‘Well, think about that!’ Grabbing an orange from a nearby table, I hurled it at him. He ducked, and the fruit bounced harmlessly off the wall.
He gave an approving nod. ‘Quite acceptable acting! That’s exactly the kind of attitude you need to project now, for your new role as jealous wife.’
‘If you ever come near that hussy gain, I’ll kill you, do you hear me? I’ll cut off your head, fill it with ice cream and eat it for breakfast!’
He stood there, slowly stroking his finger along his chiselled chin, regarding me consideringly.
‘You know, for someone who is only playacting, you are a quite extraordinarily convincing jealous wife.’
‘Of course.’ I flashed him my tigress smile again. ‘After all, you pay me for it.’
‘Indeed.’
‘So… what now?’ Slowly prowling towards him, I eyed his hard, cold figure. ‘What do you expect a woman to do? Run off screaming into the night? Crawl away to weep in a corner?’
‘Probably.’
My eyes narrowed into slits. ‘Ah, but you see, a wife wouldn’t do that. At least not one worthy of the title. No, I won’t pretend to run off. Instead, since I’m pretending to be your wife, I ought to pretend to be very, very angry at you.’
He considered this for a moment. Finally, he nodded his agreement. ‘Yes.’
‘Good.’
The first vase missed his head only by inches, shattering against the wall.
‘I’m so glad to have your agreement, my dear!’
Grabbing the second vase of flowers from the dresser, I hurled it at him with all the force I could muster, careful to take better aim. He ducked just in time. The vase crashed against a portrait and splintered into a thousand pieces. Marching over to the table, I picked up another and flung it after the first two - but that one flew wide of the target, sailing over his head and out the window. It shattered with a distant, lonesome crash somewhere on the cobblestones outside.
I didn’t give him time to recover. Dashing forward like a mad fury, I hurled myself at him and started pounding on his chest.
‘I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!’
‘Quite satisfactory,’ his cool voice reached my ear, like silk sliding over steel. ‘Your acting has significantly improved.’
‘Thanks!’ My next punch hit him in the stomach. Bloody hell! It was as hard as a slab of granite! I hit again, and satisfaction rushed through me as he uttered a small groan.
‘Really, quite significantly improved!’ he grunted.
‘Here! Take that, you bastard! And that! And that!’ His hands shot up, grabbing me around the wrists. ‘Let go! Let go, you bloody son of a bachelor!’
‘So you can continue to utilize me as your own personal punching bag?’ His tone was as dry as it was cold. ‘I think not.’