Chapter 63: 63 | Crippled Fetish
Rachel turned the wheel, and the car smoothly exited the street before accelerating onto the larger road beyond.
Inside the vehicle, silence filled the air.
Not the comfortable kind of silence that exists between old friends who have run out of things to say and don’t mind. This was the awkward kind. The kind where both people are acutely aware of the quiet and are thinking about it but neither wants to be the first to acknowledge it.
Dexter sat quietly in the passenger seat while Rachel focused on driving. Every now and then, she stole glances in his direction, a small smile lingering on her lips. Not a polite smile. Something more personal. More intimate. Like she was remembering something pleasant and wanted to share it but was waiting for the right moment.
Dexter shook his head slightly at the awkward atmosphere.
He could feel her gaze landing on him every few seconds. Warm. Persistent. Unapologetic. It was the kind of attention that would have made his heart race a month ago. Back when he was nobody. Back when any beautiful woman showing interest in him would have felt like winning a lottery.
But things were different now.
Not because he didn’t find Rachel attractive. He did. Anyone with eyes would. She had the kind of beauty that turned heads on busy streets. The kind that made people forget what they were doing mid-sentence.
But his life had become complicated in ways that left no room for additional entanglements. Three wives. Three broken women depending on him. Three people who needed his attention far more than a beautiful woman in a BMW.
After several moments, Rachel finally spoke.
"Should I turn on the radio?"
Dexter quickly nodded.
"Yeah."
Anything was better than sitting in silence.
Rachel reached over and switched it on.
Unfortunately, fate seemed determined to make things worse.
The first song that played was about romantic tension and unresolved feelings between two people. The lyrics spoke of longing glances and unspoken desires and the space between two people in a car that felt smaller with every passing minute.
Rachel raised an eyebrow.
Dexter stared straight ahead. His jaw tightened slightly. Of all the songs. Of all the stations. Of all the moments.
Then the lyrics became even worse.
The song shifted from romantic tension to blatant sexual tension. The singer’s voice dropped lower. The tempo slowed. Words about heat and skin and temptation filled the car like smoke.
Rachel let out an amused chuckle.
Dexter blinked before immediately turning his head toward the window as if the passing buildings outside had suddenly become fascinating. A mailbox. A fire hydrant. A traffic light. Absolutely riveting. The most interesting traffic light he had ever seen in his entire life.
Rachel struggled to hold back her laughter.
"Should I change it?"
Dexter merely shrugged. Casual. Indifferent. As though he hadn’t just been staring at a fire hydrant for eleven seconds straight.
Rachel switched stations.
The next song was somehow even more unfortunate.
This one was about unrequited love. A woman singing about a man who didn’t know she existed. About watching him from afar. About wishing he would turn around and see her standing right there.
Dexter almost facepalmed.
Was the universe actively trying to make this car ride as awkward as possible? Had he offended some cosmic DJ in a previous life? Was there a deity somewhere laughing at him right now?
Rachel finally burst into laughter. Not polite laughter. Full, genuine, shoulder-shaking laughter that made her grip the steering wheel tighter. The kind of laugh that crinkles the eyes and shows teeth and makes the person hearing it want to laugh too even when nothing is funny.
A moment later, Dexter joined in.
He couldn’t help it. The situation was so absurd that fighting it would have been pointless. Here he was. A man with three wives at home who were probably still furious about the morning’s events. Sitting in a luxury car. Listening to love songs. Next to a woman who had kissed him and showed no signs of regretting it.
The tension in the car eased considerably.
Still chuckling, Rachel switched stations again.
Thankfully, the third song was normal.
No love songs.
No confessions.
No hidden meanings.
Just rap music.
Aggressive, loud, completely inappropriate rap music about money and power and surviving the streets. It was so far removed from romance that it practically existed in a different dimension.
Rachel left it there.
For the first time since entering the car, the two began talking naturally.
"So, Dexter," Rachel began, keeping her eyes on the road, "I didn’t know much about your situation with your three wives before. But after I found out, I looked it up online."
Dexter raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
Rachel glanced at him.
"There was... a lot."
"What did you read?"
Rachel looked genuinely surprised.
"Wait, are you telling me you’ve never searched your own name online?"
Dexter shook his head.
"No."
"You really don’t care what people say about you?"
"I don’t."
He leaned back in his seat. The leather was warm against his back. Comfortable in a way that reminded him how far he still was from providing this kind of comfort for his family.
"People are going to think whatever they want. Their opinions don’t change my life."
He paused.
"Opinions don’t feed my family. Don’t heal their wounds. Don’t keep them safe at night."
Rachel stared at him for a moment before smiling.
"See? That’s one of the reasons I’m attracted to you."
Dexter’s eyes widened slightly.
How could she say something like that so casually? Like telling someone you were attracted to them was the same as commenting on the weather. Oh, nice day today. By the way, I find you attractive. Pass the salt.
Perhaps it was because he already had three wives and women always likes things they can’t get their hands on.
Whatever the reason, he chose not to respond.
Rachel continued anyway.
"Some people online said you were sold off to the three families."
Dexter remained silent and his expression didn’t change. He wasn’t hurt because he had heard worse.
"Others said you begged your father to arrange the marriage because you desperately wanted three wives."
She laughed softly.
"One post claimed you’re secretly a sadist."
Dexter raised an eyebrow.
Rachel continued counting on her fingers.
"And then there were the people claiming that disabled women were your dark fetish."
Dexter was stunned. "People have fetishes about crippled people?"
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