All Chapters of MARRIED TO MY ARROGANT ENEMY: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

ENID'S POV The words left my mouth before I could stop them, casual and sharp, like everything else I’d said to him today. “It’ll be a hassle. And a waste of time because I want to go back to Scotland and take over my grandfather’s legacy.”I saw the hit land. Alex’s face went pale, his eyes widening like I’d slapped him. His fingers tightened around the Coke can so hard the metal crinkled slightly, and for a second he looked like he might drop it. His lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Then, in a whisper that barely reached me, “You’re… going back to Scotland?”I leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, trying to look unaffected, but inside everything twisted. Why did I say it like that? Why did I make it sound so final, so easy? It wasn’t. None of this was easy. I’d been watching him all morning—stealing glances while he sorted files, noticing the way his hands shook slightly, the dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t faded since last night. He looked so damn fragil

ENID'S POV He held the phone tighter, his knuckles whitening as he turned to look at me. The screen’s glow painted a sharp line across the tense set of his jaw. A flicker of something—guilt? annoyance?—passed through his eyes before he banked it.“Who is it?” I asked, leaning back in my chair, forcing my voice to stay casual.He didn’t answer. Just shook his head, a small, dismissive motion. “I’ll… I’ll pick this call. I’ll come back.”He stood up quickly, the movement abrupt, and took several long strides away from our little garden setup before he answered, his voice a low murmur I couldn’t make out. I let him go. I didn’t call after him. But the silence he left behind was suddenly loud, filled with the faint hum of distant traffic and the cold, creeping suspicion in my gut.I watched him. He stood with his back to me, shoulders slightly hunched as if protecting the conversation. One hand was shoved in his pocket, the other held the phone tight to his ear. He was talking. Not just

ALEXANDER'S POV The evening sun hung low, a lazy smear of gold and orange that stretched the shadows in the upscale grocery store parking lot into long, distorted shapes.I stood just outside the automatic doors, I wore a hoodie pulled tight, a face mask tugged high over my nose. I looked less like a shopper and more like someone about to pull off a heist. But pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford anymore. The thought of someone recognizing the former Kane heir, pushing a trolley and squinting at price tags like a normal person, was a special kind of humiliation I wasn’t ready to face.My heart thumped a frantic, unsteady rhythm against my ribs, as I felt my pocket to be sure, Enid’s black credit card was still in my pocket .I took a breath that did nothing to steady me, pushed through the sighing doors, and grabbed a trolley. The air inside was a cool, sterile blast, overlaid with the comforting, impossible-to-fake smells of freshly baked bread and citrus from the polished produce.

ALEXANDER'S POV NEXT MORNING I stood at the front of the mirror, brushing my teeth slowly, than ever before. Replaying last night scene in my head, repeatedly. The way his tongue curled into mouth, while I savour taste of his mouth. They were were so so good ... I snapped out of the dirty thought, closing my eyes in embarrassment because he ended up not touching me last night. Just a kiss and that was all. It was great, but I still wanted now and it made me go to bed horny as ever before. I rinsed my mouth, spiting them in the sink. Then struggled to pick a perfect fit. I pulled on simple clothes, a thick shirt and long pants, and headed downstairs, drawn by the faint sounds of movement coming from the kitchen. What was Enid doing in the kitchen? The door was ajar. I peered inside, and the sight stopped me cold. Enid stood at the massive island, an apron tied around his waist, arranging an array of foodstuffs and spices I was sure I hadn’t bought last night. Fresh herbs, v

ENID'S POV “Only if you don’t cooperate,” I joked, keeping my face straight as he stared at my reflection through the mirror.He chuckled nervously, a soft, trusting sound that made my chest tighten. I stepped closer, the scent of his shampoo, which is something clean and citrusy—filling the space between us. I took the strip of black silk and tied it carefully over his eyes, making sure it was snug but not tight.When I was sure he was now blinded. I grabbed the comb and began working through his soft, unruly curls. The clippers buzzed to life in my hand, a familiar, comforting vibration. I started at his temples, my movements precise and practiced. I’d been helping my grandfather with his haircuts for years, a quiet Sunday ritual that taught me more about patience and care than any business deal ever had. The skill was second nature now, the feel of the tools an extension of my own hands.I worked my way around, trimming the back, tapering the sides. My fingers occasionally brush