My Husband Is An Antisocial Count Novels & Stories

She walked up to a table and took a seat beside a couple in their late fifties. “I haven't seen Mr Sullivan around,” His wife said while looking around. “Richard Sullivan?” The wife nodded. “Yes, he'll be given a speech but why isn't he around yet?” “Probably he's in any of the rooms upstairs. I want to use the restroom, I'll be right back.” The husband said and pecked his wife's cheek before heading to the restroom.

He planned this date to every detail, knowing it would set the bar on how things between us will proceed. “They call it antisocial personality disorder in adulthood. It means I don’t have the right emotional responses to certain things and have a lot of bad behaviours I don’t see as wrong. Kind of a good fit for what I do, so it’s hard to help it when it makes me good at what I am.” He’s back to factual, maybe this topic is easier for him to explain because it's less personal. He’s explaining a condition and not divulging the wounds his mother inflicted.

He was wearing a white shirt and black suit pants, he was still so good-looking, his aura, elegant. When he saw me, his eyes darkened. My fist clenched and I reminded myself not to appear weak in front of him. I guess we were back on the hating game. This time, I needed to hate him too so I could finally move on from him. “Long time no see, my husband.”I teased, sarcastically. He glared at me. “Don’t call me that.” And then he looked sideways. I followed the direction of his eyes to see the woman dressed in a white dress walk slowly to stand beside him.

His grin is casual, his posture relaxed, like he owns the room—or at least a good chunk of it. “Sorry,” I say. “Do I know you?” “Not yet,” he says, extending a hand. “Sebastian Knight. Investor, occasional meddler, and, incidentally, the husband of the woman you were just waving at.” My eyebrows shoot up. “Oh.” He chuckles. “Yeah. Don’t take it personally. She’s… well, complicated.” “Good to know,” I say, shaking his hand. “And what brings you here, Sebastian?”

I was belowing. MASTER HENRY POV: It pained me seeing my son suffering. I know it's my fault and I felt guitly. I was selfish with both of my son and Shasha. I didn't took seriously his disorder as I can't believed there is such kind of disorder of physical contact allergy. I had the disorder of only having sexual contact with one woman as my body also react with other woman sexually but not like my son, rejecting every woman touch and his high hypersexual disorder made him dependen to only one woman.

Let all of her past with Zillion be a lesson for her so that next time she is no longer careless in giving counseling sessions to her clients. "Of course we have business, because you turned my husband away from me." "Tch, I never did. Maybe it happened because you never paid any attention to your poor husband. Did you know that Zillion has been experiencing acute anxiety disorder? He was so lonely all day long that he almost went crazy for not being able to handle it. And you selfishly still care about your career, when your husband is in a bad state. So it's clear this is all the result of your mistake, Cassie."

“I have a husband, for Christ’s sake and I don’t want to-“ “Bullshit!” He stood up and kicked the side table, which left the magazines scattered on the floor. “Your husband is an asshole and you know it. Do you even see yourself in the mirror? You are falling apart, Astrid and your husband doesn’t even care about that!” That got a sharp stare from Astrid. “I am not falling apart,” she cried.

And he connects more with people than his two brothers. The most taciturn is Auracio junior. I think he inherited all of his father’s behavior. I’ve learned to understand my husband’s behavior. I’ve noticed he is a very good husband and a very good father. But outside, he is another person; I’ve seen a bit of his cruelty when he thinks he is alone in the basement, where he tortures people. It’s when I realize that my husband is the devil incarnate. And I tell myself that I’m lucky he loves me.

Why would Aleksei or Niko be different? Yeah. I’m biased as hell. Maybe I need to sit down and reevaluate how I see people. Maybe I should cut Aleksei some slack. He’s told me again and again that he’s not like that. That he doesn’t cheat. I should believe him. I should. And then I step out from behind the brush, and stop. There he is. My husband. Standing like a fallen god in a dark suit and a cravat, like he’s about to walk on a red carpet or a runway for hot sexy men.