Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Dinner Invitations

Chapter 5:

Dinner Invitations

I pulled at the collar of my shirt. It was a bit uncomfortable, but I dealt with it. After all, I was going out to dinner with my wife. Not just her, but several others who had invited us. Technically, they invited her. I was the plus one.

"Is...this okay?" I murmured, looking at myself in the mirror.

A sleek black outfit that just seemed odd on me. It was a button-up, long-sleeved shirt with a high collar. The shoes matched the color of the outfit, and overall it wasn't anything eccentric. My hair was tied back, courtesy of the stylist my wife employed. Adjusting my glasses, I shifted a bit under my own scrutiny.

"Is it not to your liking?" She asked me, her hand resting upon my shoulder, "You look absolutely dashing, my dear."

I felt myself grow shy at her praise, glancing down with a slight smile.

"N-No, it is," I responded quietly, "I just don't know if it suits me..."

"Of course it does," Confidence laced her words, "I made sure the material was comfortable for you, since I know you're not a fan of certain textures."

"She...knows that?" My smile deepened as I felt touched at her attentiveness.

We may have been married for a couple months now, but I didn't think we knew that much about each other. You might ask yourself how I married someone I barely knew, or didn't even love. Yet, I might ask you another question.

If one of the most beautiful, powerful people in the world, took an interest in you, and had such a force of personality with a murderous will...would you really say no? Her hand clenched my shoulder as if reading my own thoughts, but I felt safe. Even though I saw my wife snap a man's neck with ease, her hand on my shoulder felt comforting.

Even as it moved to the back of my neck. Her firm grip massaging it. Involuntarily, I let out a groan of pleasure. My neck and shoulders were always a source of discomfort, and she always knew when they were tense.

"Feel good?" She smiled, laughing lightly, "When we get home later, I'll finish what I started, deal?"

Looking up at her in the mirror, I nodded, "Deal."

She was attentive, caring, and took care of me. Even if I didn't understand why, who would say no? My wife was a murderer, and each day I was falling more in love with her.

Stepping out onto the hoverpad where our ride awaited, with her hand outstretched to me, she helped me in. The pressure seal of the door sounding as it took off into the night.

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The dinner was fancy. Incredibly so. Everything was shiny and gold. Chandeliers with crystals illuminated the area with a soft glow. People talked in low murmurs; waiters moved around with efficiency unlike any other.

Just touching the napkins seemed like a sin. Embroidered with a gilded leaf-like design. Exotic ferns and grand paintings of nature decorated the interior. Everyone was dressed up, and despite the amazing material and suit my wife had made for me, I felt underdressed.

Her hand on my thigh, squeezing it, was reassuring. I smiled to her as she talked in a foreign language, Japanese, to those that invited us. I may not like eye-contact, but I didn't miss their stares. The looks they gave me. I didn't know proper etiquette and had already messed up when I sat down before several others.

Though, my wife had told me to sit first. Why were they so offended? It seemed like they were angry, but my wife remained calm. Dinner concluded quickly, with a meal that was beyond imagination. It was like art. How do you eat art?

Outside, the hovercar waited. The seal on the door making a soft, hissing sound as it opened. Before we could enter, her phone rang. Answering it, she listened closely before nodding.

"Alex, my dear," She called out to me, "Could you wait here for a moment? I think I forgot my bag inside."

"O-Oh, alright," I smiled softly, nodding, "Hurry back."

Her hand cupped my cheek before she walked away. With not much else to do but wait, I paced around a bit. My thoughts full of fuzz. A hazy emotion of tenderness for my wife. She helped me through this rather stressful situation.

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As I made a pass by the car for who knows how many times, I saw it. Her bag. It was just sitting upon the seat of the vehicle. Waiting there just like I was. Confused, I picked it up and wondered how she could have missed it sitting there.

"How did I...?" I questioned myself, but then remembered that object permanence was a thing.

"...I should tell her," I muttered, reaching for my glasses, sliding my finger along the rim.

A small list of names appeared in my vision. Selecting hers, the call went through, but the ringtone came from the very bag I held.

"I thought she...How did I miss her putting it in her bag?" Confusion and anxiety set in.

"Well...shit," Sighing, I looked around for anyone to help.

Just security, in their black suits, neatly kept appearances, and black glasses were nearby.

"U-Uhm..." I called out weakly, but my voice couldn't get the strength.

My heart began to speed up, and my breathing quickened. Anxiety was taking over. What was I to do? I didn't know where she was, or how to find her. Hyperventilation began to kick in.

"Oh, darling!" A voice of comfort called out, "You've found my bag!"

Turning, I saw her. My wife, Cecelia, fine as can be walking towards me. The moonlight lit her dress like the stars in the sky. It wasn't the only thing it lit up.

"Dear?" Concern tinged her voice as her head tilted slightly, "Are you alright?"

A crimson accent adorned her dress that wasn't there before. A small streak of red soaked into the fabric. My eyes taking in a face marked by that which gives us life.

"Ma'am, your face," One of the guards offered a handkerchief.

Reaching up to her face, her fingers touching the blood upon it. She looked at her fingers, surprised.

"Tch, I got dirty..." She acted as if it was regular dirt, wiping it away with the handkerchief provided, "Honestly, I thought I was careful this time..."

Looking at her dress, she tutted once more. Mentioning she had to get a new dress again.

"You know what to do," She tossed the cloth back to the guard.

"Yes, Ma'am," The guard bowed, and together with three others they trotted off.

"Now then," She smiled lovingly, walking towards me, "Shall we go home? I believe I have a deal to complete?"

That's right, my wife is a killer.

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