Author's Note:

I apologize for the late update, I'm stuck in a writer's block and summer isn't going as well as I planned it to be.

This chapter is slightly short, but I do hope you all can still enjoy it.

Ian Howe cursed out loud, pacing around the room, having the urge to bite his nails. He pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and pressed speed-dial. He knew his partners in crime were safely bailed out of jail, because he had pulled some strings; they were up to something new, but without Celia noticing, of course.

"Phil, call up Victor for me, I need some help."

After checking in at the Bed &Breakfast at six in the morning, Celia dragged her legs and duffel bag up the stairs. "You again." Dolly, the prostitute nodded towards Celia. She was standing at the corner, her back against the wall.

"Hello." Celia forced a smile.

"Where's your boyfriend?"

"He's my husband." Celia quickly corrected her, "And I got in a fight with him so, here I am." She bit her lip, gripping on the handle of her luggage, "What are you doing here anyway?" She continued and asked, pushing up her sleeves.

Dolly shrugged, looking at her watch, "I was waiting for the past twenty seven minutes for a customer but I guess he's not bothering to show up. So, you wanna talk about it?" She asked, sounding sincere.

Celia laughed awkwardly, "Talk about what, your profession?" Realizing what she just said, she quickly shook her head, "I'm, um, sorry. I didn't mean that. I just had a really bad day…"

"So, let me ask you again, you want to talk about it?"

Slowly, Celia nodded her head, smiling weakly, "That would be nice."

Dolly helped Celia move her luggage into her room and plopped down on the bed, sighing, "What happened, you had a tiff with your husband?"

Celia laughed sadly, "If it was only a tiff. It's rather complicated."

"I've got all day," Dolly yawned, "You can talk to me, I won't charge you. Girl talk is for free. I'm getting bored anyways."

"Well," Celia unzipped her suitcase and started to pull out clothes from it and putting them into drawers, "My husband…is involved in legally questionable activities."

"What, he's dealing drugs?" Dolly snickered, crossing her legs.

Celia shot her a glare, "No, something worse than that. The last time you saw me and him, I just bailed him out from jail, for a million dollars, in cold, hard cash."

Dolly arched her perfectly knitted brows, "Wow. Continue please."

Celia told her everything; how they met, when they married, their honeymoon, their penthouse apartment, when he left her and their 'reunion' and last night's 'incident'.

"Well, if you don't mind I ask, how was the make-up sex? Or let's just cut straight to the point, how is he in bed?" Dolly asked with no shame. Celia's face went completely red, "Excuse me?"

"Well, I asked, 'How is he in bed'?" Dolly repeated, tapping her foot on the floor, "So?"

Celia bit her lip, "Um, that is rather private information that I don't feel comfortable sharing with....anyone."

"Oh come on." Dolly rolled her eyes, "I'm a prostitute. Trust me, I know men. Just spill."

Celia squinted her eyes and sighed, "Oh, alright. He is a gentleman. He respects me. Um, he's gentle and loving, but sometimes he is rough and possessive." Her face was red as she quickly finished her answer.

"So overall," Dolly nodded, "He's a good fuck?"

"I beg your pardon?" Celia asked, a little annoyed that this prostitute she hardly knew was talking about Ian like he was some kind of…object.

"So you like him or not?" Dolly folded her arms across her chest.

"I love him." Celia stated, her voice trembling. It hurt so much to speak of the truth, "And, yeah, he is a good fu—I mean, he is amazing in bed." She giggled slightly at her own words. It was so bare and so true.

Dolly nodded, "Then what's the problem? He just got drunk, said a few harsh things and almost had rough sex with you."

"That," Celia held up her index finger, "Was almost rape."

Dolly laughed, "You might have enjoyed it. Too bad you gave up your chance."

"Ew, it's not all sex in a relationship, you know?" Celia shook her head.

"I had a husband once, too." Dolly started, her face sullen, "I was like you. Believing love is all that mattered. But not to men, no. They want sex more than anything. Well, I wasn't as experienced back then as I am now; anyways, he would rather go to prostitutes and hookers than his own wife. He hardly came home. He was an alcoholic too. He hit me, sometimes…I was so silly, letting him treat me like that for one full year. That's the disadvantage for marrying so young. I was twenty one at that time…but nothing else mattered, only him."

"I completely understand how you feel." Celia nodded in sympathy, "I'm so sorry to hear about that…and for judging you before I even got to know you…"

"Nah, I'm used to it. Now, I'm a prostitute, isn't it ironic? I'm finally good in bed." Dolly tossed her hair and laughed, "Once he came to me for my 'service'. The bastard was so shocked that it was even me. He even wanted to get back with me." Dolly smirked, "I just said, 'A hundred dollars for the night, sir' and left him completely speechless. Now he has to live with the guilt that he turned his ex-wife into a whore."

"You are not a whore." Celia exclaimed, hugging Dolly, "You are a woman seeking revenge for one who broke your heart. So you divorced him?"

"Yeah, like at the seventh time he hit me. He was drunk and didn't realize I had left the next day."

"I suddenly feel my story is not even comparable to what you have been through…" Celia shook her head, "But I still don't understand why Ian would sleep with Tracy What's-her-face."

"Well, in this case I believe your husband is just feeling needy sometimes and according to what you're saying, he gets jealous. A lot." Dolly explained.

"Well, how can I prevent that?" She pouted, "I love him. He should know that. I tell him that every day."

"Honey, I think that's the point. He's so used to you telling him you love him. Lemme ask you this: how often does he tell you he loves you?"

Dolly's question had caught Celia completely off guard, making her stutter her answer, "Um, not that often. But that doesn't mean he doesn't love me, right? He loves me, he just isn't used to saying it." Tears increased in her eyes as she tried to convince herself.

"I believe he loves you, hon. You…just have to play a little more hard to get. He takes you for granted and doesn't appreciate you."

"Yeah." Celia sniffled, "Thanks for talking to me, Dolly."

"Hey, look. You want a job?" Dolly asked her, suddenly.

"As a prostitute? No offense, but no thanks." Celia shook her head.

"Nah, don't be silly." Dolly rolled her eyes, lighting a cigarette, "I meant to work here. As a staff, like a maid or something."

"Um, I don't know about that. I'm not really good at chores or anything, really."

"You'll learn! My aunt Marge would love to have you as company. She adores you! You were actually the first person to call me out on my…behavior."

"Well, I suppose I'm sorry." Celia smiled apologetically.

"Haha, don't be. But I'm serious, you'd be perfect, because my aunt Marge is lacking some help from others…you see, I sometimes need to earn some extra money." Dolly winked, making Celia burst out in laughter, "Fine, I'll give it a shot. Just don't make fun of me!"

One Week Later

"Room service!" Celia chirped, knocking on the door and pushing the trolley, entering the room. "Good morning, sir. Here's your breakfast."

She giggled to herself; hey, she wasn't too bad at this!

"Good morning, Celia." Ian greeted her casually, lying on the bed, staring at her amusingly. She looked exceptionally adorable in that maid uniform.

"Ian!" She jumped at the familiarity of his voice, startled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

A/N: That's all for now...is this story going well? I'm starting to lose confidence. Review if you'd like, you readers are my motivation.

Oh, and there's yet another smut scene in the next chapter...one of the most graphic ones I've ever attempted to write...