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What did she want from him anyway? His money? It definitely helped her. What else was there? His sparkling personality? His good looks were more than a plus. He looked good in suits. She always saw him in a suit and those expensive shoes, oxfords, brogues, and the like. Was that what made women fawn over him? Was it the sex? True, she liked, no, loved the sex. But she could live without it. She wondered if he could. Maybe he was a sex addict or something. She should have had some psychological test done for him before she signed the contract.
Well, too late for that now. What she saw was that he was a psychopath. Being a CEO, he had the makings of being one. He was calculating and intelligent, superficially charming, he read through people easily, and he enjoyed manipulating her. She didn’t know about other people, but it felt like he enjoyed doing that to her. She knew about it, yet she allowed it. Was this some sort of battered person’s syndrome now? Mikaela felt she had all the symptoms…
She wasn’t born stupid; she wasn’t born to take orders from anyone. She told herself she’d turn things around for herself the best she could. This was no exception. Justin Henderson was just another test of sorts.
“Won’t you stay?” she suddenly said with a bright smile.
He stopped buttoning his shirt and looked at her face for a moment, intently. Then he finished buttoning up
his shirt, without giving her another glance until she interrupted him, asking him the same thing.
“I only have an hour, and it’s running up. Kinda busy today,” he told her.
“You had an hour to drive all the way here for some afternoon delight?”
He smiled. “You could call it that.”
She tried to hide her disappointment.
“Hope you brought a gown. If you haven’t, you’d better. There’s a good show at the Opera House tomorrow,” he told her.
“Maybe I’ll buy one,” she said acidly.
“Yeah, you should. I’ll see you in a few,” he said, picking up the suit he hung from the chair.
See you in a few what? Hours? Days? She technically had four more days to go in London. She watched him as he fixed his shoelaces, not even bothering to make small talk with her. Yeah, because small talk was to mask the awkwardness right? Because there was no awkwardness here, right? It was just a contract being fulfilled. Yes, that stupid contract. She began to hate it immensely. Add to the fact that they both carried copies of the contract, for it was mandatory that they wouldn’t forget about it.
She felt dirty again. She felt used again. No matter how much she told herself to enjoy the moment, to enjoy what he offered her, she just hated it when he did that. She hated it when he ignored her, just had plain good sex with her then tossed her away like she didn’t matter at all.
He walked out without another word. He was an asshole. The biggest asshole she had ever met in her life. She seethed; she had never been this angry at anyone. She was getting her revenge, no matter how tiny it was. She dialed for the spa.
***
The opera was lovely, she almost cried. She felt glitzy and cultured, even as she watched alone. The moment she stepped back into the hotel from her service limousine, she felt stares all over her while in the lobby.
“Miss Johnson, good evening,” one bellboy greeted her.
She smiled at him, that dazzling smile that many wanted to look at for quite a while. She had nearly forgotten the power of her smile. She should have used it more often on Justin. She heard a few gentlemen ask about her.
I can hear you, you know, she thought, and I’m no model, but I feel like I’m one now.
It was probably her dress, a number she had bought off the rack, at Harrods. It was her most expensive purchase in London yet, that along with the shoes and clutch bag she probably wouldn’t use until another formal event years from now. The dress was a lovely cobalt blue number, the same color she wore the night Justin approached her, among all the women he could have approached.
She felt extra confident tonight. To fully utilize her glamorous looks, she decided to have a nightcap at the bar. If this confidence tonight could work on other men, surely it would work on Justin. Time to put the theory to a test.
As she walked into the bar, she noticed it was full of men, only two other women were there. She took a seat on a plush chair, three empty chairs surrounded her. She ordered a glass of champagne and enjoyed the tingling sensation going about in her mouth. This was good champagne, for someone who didn’t drink alcoholic drinks much.
In less than five minutes, two men walked up to her, introducing themselves as Swedish businessmen, asking if they could take a seat with her. She nodded. It was working. She hadn’t expected it to work so soon. She decided to revel in the moment. This had only happened when she was all dolled up. She was more than dolled up. She felt glamourous, she felt like she was on top of the world.
Was this how Justin felt when he was surrounded by a lot of women? It was good to the ego, to be acknowledged by people, to be admired for being physically beautiful. She would play the part well, and she planned to enjoy it immensely while it lasted.
Chapter10
Justin was irritable. She hadn’t answered in over an hour. He was sure she had been brought back to the hotel. He had hired a car for that at her beck and call. She couldn’t have fallen asleep an hour after the show, right? He had begun to frown but told himself not to, as he was walking into Rosewood’s lobby. The lobby was devoid of guests as it was nearly ten in the evening.
“Mr. Henderson, good evening,” a bellboy greeted him. Justin Henderson was a bit well-known in the hotel, he held a few meetings here once in a while and was an excellent tipper.
“Hullo,” he replied distractedly. He looked around. “Has Ms. Johnson arrived yet from the opera?”
