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“Then make the time.” I can feel my throat tensing. “I’m still your wife, Atlas.”
“Yes, you are my wife, Stella, but as I outlined very clearly from the start of this arrangement, this is transactional.”
“And that means that you can’t even interact with me as if I’m a human? You’ll watch me fuck myself with your toothbrush, but you won’t even have dinner with me?”
Anger flashes across his face. “Watch your tone with me.”
“I rarely see you and when I do, you’re either upset with me or you want me or you’re angry that you want me. I just—” I raise my hands in frustration and shake my head to avoid bursting into tears. He doesn’t respond right away. He lets the silence linger before breaking it and making it more than clear where I stand with him.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I ate dinner with you every night of our honeymoon.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh to keep from crying. “Forget it,” I say, rolling my eyes so far back in my head it hurts. It irritates him instantly, just like it always does.
“I’m very busy. I don’t have the time and energy to devote to a real marriage or a traditional relationship; that is why I hired you. This marriage”—he points between us—“is nothing more than an inconvenience.”
Chapter 12
Atlas
“What are you wearing?” I drop my tablet onto the table when Stella enters the kitchen, her ass on prominent display with her polo tucked into her tight jeans.
“My work uniform,” she says dryly, clearly still upset from our talk last night. Not that I would consider it much of a talk. She simply stormed out of my office after I reminded her why this contract even exists in the first place.
“And why are you wearing it? As my wife, you don’t work.”
“But”—she picks up a yogurt and cocks her head to the side—“technically, I work as your wife, remember? Last night you said you hired me.” I stare at her blankly, making it abundantly clear how unamused I am with her attitude. “I’m going in to give my two weeks and tell them the joyful news of our nuptials.” She says the last part in a particularly sarcastic tone.
“There will be no two weeks.” She stops halfway out the kitchen door and turns back around.
“Excuse me?”
“I need you to understand and follow the rules, Stella. They are clearly outlined in the contract and it will make this so much easier. Do you need to review it?”
“No,” she says flatly.
“Good.” I smile, reaching for my tablet again. “You can drop your uniform off and tell them the good news, but you’re not working so go change.” I don’t have to look up from my email to know that if looks could kill, I’d be fucking obliterated right now. She turns to leave. “One more thing, sweetheart. Have you looked at the calendar my assistant sent over to you?”
“No.” She keeps her back to me.
“Well, please do. We’re having dinner with some very important people tonight.”
She spins around. “No, Matilda invited me over tonight. She wants to hear about the wedding and honeymoon. I promised her a girls’ night.”
“Cancel it.”
“No,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Unless she is paying you five million dollars to be her wife, cancel it, Stella. I will not have this conversation with you again, am I clear?” I let the anger out. She needs to realize that I’m not wasting my time on her petty tantrums and bratty attitude problem. “I don’t know if you think this is some kind of game or that you can flirt and manipulate me to get your way, but you signed a legally binding contract”—I point to the table, my voice booming—“so reschedule it for another night because you are attending this dinner.”
The rest of my morning is complete shit. The look on her face as she hung her head in defeat and walked out of the kitchen has stuck with me. I feel like shit. I am a piece of shit. But the one thing I will stand behind is her responsibility to the contract. I need her by my side as my wife.
I feel the tightness in my chest again. I pick up my phone and send her a text, hoping it makes up for my lack of candor this morning.
Me: Apologies for this morning if I was too aggressive with my word choices. I do hope everyone at the coffee shop was happy for you.
I’m about to put the phone away when I see the three dots floating. Her response is almost immediate.
Stella: I didn’t tell them.
