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“They’re amazing,” I say, my words barely a whisper. I can’t believe he’s just giving these to me. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything as expensive as these fabrics touch my skin before.
“I’m going to get in the shower, then tonight I’m taking you out. We’re officially going to out you as my wife in the public eye,” Marcus says.
“Oh, okay,” I stammer. That’s a big can of worms he’s going to have a hard time putting back when it’s all said and done. What will he say when this job is over? Will he tell everyone it was a fake marriage? Will he say we got divorced? I guess it doesn’t really matter, but for some reason none of it feels good.
4
The town car pulls up to the front of the restaurant and there’s a crowd of people standing in front of it. This place makes the restaurant we went to for lunch look like a hole-in-the-wall burger joint. To say it’s opulent is an understatement. I can only imagine what it looks like on the inside. I guess I’ll find out.
I feel like less of a fraud in this dress. I can’t believe how well it fits. There was no need to take anything in or let anything out. It slipped over my body like a second skin, like Marcus made it with me in mind. Who knew he preferred my body-type over the thinner models you see on the runway?
The driver gets out of the car and comes to my side and helps me out of the back seat. It’s a good thing because I don’t think I would be able to get out of this seat by myself in these heels. It’s a two-person job.
I wait on the curb while Marcus gets out. As soon as he does, the crowd is surrounding me. I hadn’t noticed the cameras at first until I’m blinded by the flashes. They yell out questions to me: who am I to Marcus, who am I wearing. It’s as if I’m on a red carpet.
I’m confused and turned around. I don’t know what to do, but then an arm wraps around my waist and whisks me into the building away from the chaos of paparazzi. We sit at a table in the back of the dining room away from everyone else.
“Is your life always this crazy?” I ask, feeling disheveled and way out of my element.
He lets out a quiet laugh. “A little. I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you.”
A warning would’ve been nice, but I just nod because it was kind of exciting at the same time.
I notice people staring at us from the different tables. It’s not just the staring that’s making me feel awkward, it’s the fact that Marcus and I had sex and I have no idea what that means for the future of this business venture. I feel awkward, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling the same. Unless he’s an incredible actor, he doesn’t seem to be changed by what happened between us one bit.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, meeting my eyes.
I look down at the glass of ice water in front of me and wipe away the condensation. “Nothing.”
He puts his hand over mine and gives me no choice but to look at him. “Tell me,” he says.
With a sigh, I say, “We had sex. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Do you regret it?” he asks.
For the briefest moment I think I see concern in his eyes, but he’s quick to shut it off and now his expression is unreadable.
I don’t know what to tell him. I do regret it in a way because this could change everything about the dynamic between us, but at the same time I don’t regret it at all because being with Marcus was one of the best sexual experiences of my life. Being with him made me feel beautiful and desired and, of course, the incredible orgasms were no small thing either.
“No. Not at all,” I say.
He grips my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “Good. Neither do I.”
This night was supposed to be about us coming out as a married couple to the world, and yet we end up lost in conversation, everything else falling away as if it doesn’t exist. Before we know it, it’s almost midnight and we’re the last ones left in the restaurant. It’s so late even the paparazzi have called it a night and there’s no one around when we leave the restaurant.
We’re both exhausted when we get home, and a little drunk. We say goodnight and head to our own rooms. In seconds I’m passed out.
When I wake up the next morning there are a ton of alerts on my phone.
I sit up, not sure what’s going on. That’s when I see more than a dozen texts from Alba. They’re from last night. I forgot to check my phone after we left the restaurant. Marcus and I are all over social media.
“What the hell?” I say to myself, and grumble. It’s too early for all of this.
It’s seven in the morning and now I’m really feeling the brunt of concern about having sex with Marcus the night before. I’m about to leave for work in one of my stunning new outfits, and I don’t know how to feel. I’m so overwhelmed. First the fire, then the most incredible sex I’ve ever had, and now these feelings I’ve starting to develop for him … It’s a lot to take. I know I shouldn’t complain because what I have with Marcus is a good thing—I’m getting a new house out of it, after all—but I’m used to being background noise and now I’m the center of attention.
I leave my room, closing the door behind me. My hair is done, the new clothes fit perfectly, as if they were made specifically for me. I don’t have any makeup to put on, but my skin is clear so I guess it doesn’t really matter. Makeup would only take away the attention from this amazing outfit.
As I walk into the kitchen to grab my car keys, I startle when I see Marcus standing there. I thought I heard him leave early this morning. I didn’t hear him come back.
“Last night was a mistake,” Marcus says.
My heart plummets and I feel slightly nauseous. He regrets having sex with me? I mean, I guess I regret it too a little—not being with him, but of the repercussions of it and the effect it will have on our working relationship from now on. Still, it breaks my heart to know that he regrets it, but probably for very different reasons. I wonder what those reasons are. Was I not good enough? Did I do something wrong? I want to cry, but I hold it back.
I swallow hard and nod. “I know. It shouldn’t have happened. Things went too far.”
He frowns at first, but then his eyes widen and he starts to chuckle. “God, no, I wasn’t talking about sex with you being a mistake.” He slowly walks toward me and I get that same fluttering in my chest that always happens when he’s near. “I could never regret that. Being with you was perfection. I was talking about outing us as a married couple at dinner. I didn’t know the paparazzi would be out in droves.”
When he hugs me I melt into his chest. I wish I could capture the scent of him in a jar and carry it with me. He kisses me on the top of the head and steps back.
“It’s fine,” I say.
“You’ll have to get used to it, I’m afraid. Now that the media has had a taste, they’ll want more.” He gives me a sly, sexual look that hoods his eyes. “I know I do.”
I feel my entire body flush. If we didn’t have to get to work, I’d jump on him right now.
I shake the thoughts from my head. What are you doing, Ruby? I was just thinking how we shouldn’t have had sex in the first place and how it could ruin our working relationship, and now I’m thinking about having sex with him again. No. Just no. I have to keep my hormones under control.
“Can I take you to work?” he asks.
I hesitate, knowing as soon as everyone at work sees us together, things are going to be different for me there. I liked being invisible in the store. I liked clocking in, doing my time, then going home at the end of the day relatively unnoticed. Now if I mess anything up, everyone is going to pay attention. But there’s nothing I can do about that now. No doubt everyone has seen the photos and have heard the gossip from last night. People who work in fashion live on social media. There’s no way a story like that is going to stay a secret for long.
“That would be great, thanks.”
When we get to the office, I’m thankful that Marcus doesn’t insist that we go in hand and hand. I think i
t would be too obvious anyway. It’s better to let people think we’re trying to hide our new relationship rather than flaunt it in everyone’s face. It might not be all that believable to his ex-wife when she hears about everything.
Marcus heads to the back of the store while I head up to my new office. As I walk past my co-workers, it’s as I suspected. There are whispers of me sleeping my way to the top. They mumble terrible things behind my back, thinking that I can’t hear them, when I can hear everything. These people who I thought were friends have turned their backs on me. Well, fuck them. They were never friends to begin with, I guess.
I head up to my new office. I remember seeing a desk out front of Marcus’s door and assumed as his personal assistant, it would be mine, but when I get to the top floor, someone is already sitting behind it. She’s an older, grandmotherly type with a perm, thick glasses, and a perpetually smiling face.
She looks up and smiles at me. “You must be Ruby,” she says.
“Yes I am,” I say, confused. “Do you know where my desk is?”
