The Older Man She Craves Can Hear Every Naughty Word In Her Head Chapter 03
Just as Atticus had said, the house was usually quiet.
He left for Capitol Hall at seven in the morning and didn’t return until seven at night.
One morning, Atticus saw me sitting at the dining table.
“You don’t have to get up this early, Miss Merriweather.”
I played it cool. “Old habit. I always get up at this hour at home. Healthy routine.”
The lazy bum who sleeps until the sun is high before dragging herself out of bed to paint? That’s not me.]
And it’s definitely not because I just want one more look at him.
Atticus gave me a strange look but didn’t say anything.
The next day, he was gone. The servants said he had left at half past five.
He came back at eight that night and went straight to his study to work.
The entire week after that went the same way.
I finally figured it out—Atticus was avoiding me.
The comments tried to talk me out of it: [Atticus is never going to turn his son’s fiancée into his wife. Give up, girl.]
I was so sad I couldn’t draw, feeling completely listless.
“As long as the marriage isn’t official, I still have a chance to win him over. Don’t try to stop me, or I’ll knock my head out.”
The comments rolled their eyes: [At least use a knife. Hitting your head on a pillow won’t do anything.]
I silently picked up a knife.
Just then, a low voice came from behind me. “What are you doing?”
My hand trembled, and the knife slipped.
It was about to slice my foot when Atticus caught it quickly. The blade cut his fingertip, and blood ran down his palm.
I turned pale with fear. “Mr. Parker, your hand!”
“It’s nothing,” he said, washing it under water and frowning at me. “Isn’t there a chef here? Why are you holding a knife?”
“…I was hungry.”
“Call the chef if you’re hungry.”
I tried to bandage his hand, but he pulled away. “I can do it myself. You’re Theodore’s fiancée. We should keep our distance.”
Hearing it from him was nothing like reading it in the comments.
A sharp ache spread through my chest, like being gnawed by a worm.
Atticus took out iodine and bandages from the first-aid kit and sat on the sofa to treat his wound.
I mumbled an apology.
Then I went back to my room, put on headphones, and drew to hold back my feelings.
Before my parents found out I was useless at business, they had been strict. They wouldn’t even allow me to cry—they considered that kind of weak behavior beneath the family’s image.
Back in high school, I had my first crush. A gentle, good-looking senior who played the piano. After my parents tore us apart, I felt like crying so badly, but I held it in.
A few days later, I was full of fight again.
“I didn’t care about this marriage when I had no one I liked, but now I just can’t let it go.”
“It doesn’t matter if Atticus dislikes me. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Once Theodore comes back, it’ll be too late.”
The comments admired how fast I bounced back after being rejected.
[Then go for it openly!]
[I agree. No one knows about the alliance yet—you still have a chance.]
I was full of resolve. I opened the door, and my smile froze at once.
Atticus was standing outside holding a ticket. “There’s a musical at the Grand Theater today.”
I didn’t know if he had heard me.
I steeled myself and just blurted it out, “Mr. Parker, I like you!”
Atticus froze for a second.
His gentle face darkened instantly. “Miss Merriweather, you’re my son’s fiancée. Don’t joke like that.”
I shook my head. “I’m not joking. I haven’t even met your son. I’m not his fiancée yet.”
He stepped back, putting distance between us. “I don’t know what gave you the idea that you could like me, but for the sake of both families, please don’t say that again.”
I stepped forward every time he stepped back, looking at him earnestly. “Getting together with you would still be a family alliance. Why can’t you give me a chance to pursue you?”
He warned me firmly. “I’m ten years older than you. I only see you as a kid.”
I laughed, letting a little of my spoiled side show. “That means you don’t hate me. I’m going to chase you!”
Atticus saw he couldn’t reason with me and turned to go downstairs.
But I caught him by the wrist.
He flinched as if shocked and pulled free.
I lost my balance, tripped, and fell down the stairs. “Ah!”
“Freya!”
Atticus panicked and lunged to grab me—but he couldn’t steady himself, and we both rolled down together.
He held me tightly, shielding me as best he could so I wouldn’t get hurt.
I looked up at him. “Mr. Parker, if you don’t like me, why did you hold me tight?”
He stood up, ignoring his wrinkled suit.
His face was cold as he scolded me, “Miss Merriweather, where are your manners? Do your parents know what you’re doing?”
I smiled, stubborn and unyielding. “Are you threatening me with my parents? Too bad that doesn’t work on me. If you hate me, just say so. I can go home if you want!”
Even though my mouth was putting up a fight, inside I was hurting like crazy.
I hate him hate him hate him! He actually used my parents to lecture me…
Fine, just yell at me. It’s not the first time anyway. I’ve never grown up to be what they wanted anyway. If they actually cared about me, they wouldn’t be forcing me into this marriage alliance…
Atticus pressed his lips together, regret flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was too harsh. I just think… if you make an impulsive decision, you’ll regret it someday.”
My smile froze.
I could snap back with my sharp, spoiled attitude when he yelled at me—it was how I’d survived since I was little. But when he apologized, I didn’t know what to do.
I picked at my fingers, my voice coming out dry and strained.
“What do you mean, impulsive… You never know if you’ll regret something until you actually do it.”
