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* * *
As much as I want to hear his words, I can’t hold back the orgasm that rips through me, my body bucking beneath his, my panicked eyes meeting his, a look that he instantly understands.
* * *
And fuck, he knows exactly what to do. Drilling me hard and fast, my head dropping back, breasts shaking as he gives me every inch of him, his slick, hard cock so thick, so perfect, so animalistic in its possessiveness. We are animals, broken down to our core needs; I am his mark, and he is feasting. As I come apart, as my orgasm shakes me down to the soul, as I experience the true, piercing pleasure that breaks me down to nothing, I know only one thing: I will never be able to resist this man. Not his body, and not his heart. I am his, to do with as he wishes.
CHAPTER 59
ONE YEAR LATER
He will be home soon. The gates will open, his car will turn down the drive, and then he will be here. Just like every day, except that today I tell him my secret.
* * *
Three months ago, we signed a new document—one that nullified any prior document and prenuptial agreement of any kind. If we separate, I am entitled to half of everything. I no longer need my safety net—the millions that are still tucked away in my checking account. The money has been like a virus, eating away at my otherwise perfect life. I need an antidote. I need to be cleansed.
* * *
I should have told him already. But everything has been so perfect. It is as if the man I was with before was preoccupied, and now he is free. Focused. On our life together. There are no rules; there are no secrets, except for mine.
* * *
The first few weeks we dealt with Cecile, her calls, her attempts to stop by the house. Drew is the one who finally controlled her, in his final task as Nathan’s employee. I think he has rejoined the police force, and I heard Cecile has moved to Paris. There has been no word from their camps in almost ten months, a silence I am grateful for.
* * *
I sit by the pool, my face turned to the sun, and wait, the soft pants of Groucho, our Lab, beside me. My eyes drift over to the guesthouse. What was once my home has been redone. It is now my office. The trophy wives of our expensive corner of the world now come to me for their parties, their teas, and their eight-year-old’s lavish birthday parties. The bed was taken out, a large worktable put in its place. The walls are now covered with idea boards, the bookshelves full of magazines and scrapbooks. I am not the local’s first choice for weddings and charity galas, but events too small to be dealt with by the big planners—those are my bread and butter. It keeps me busy, and I love the work, gaining confidence and experience with each event.
* * *
I am officially a wife. No longer just in name, but also in action. The stoic, cold man who I once knew is now a sexy, playful man who spoils me rotten and tells me every night how much I mean to him. Then he typically throws me on the bed and rocks my sexual world. He tapes love notes to the mirror, wakes me up with kisses and soft caresses, and has completely won my father’s heart, becoming close friends with the old man who once only knew him through photos. My father is now well, on daily medication, but living a normal life. He has a place in town, fifteen minutes away, and is a frequent guest in our home.
* * *
I look down at my hands, at the check that lies there.
* * *
$4,500,000.00. Cashing this check will leave a balance of just over fifteen thousand, enough to pay off the remaining student loans and credit cards I have lingering about.
* * *
It will be a weight off my shoulders, giving it back, even though I am on his accounts now, and know the full extent of his wealth. This money is not needed; it will be excess cream on an already overflowing cup. But for me, the act is symbolic. I am giving him my trust. Destroying my safety net. Putting my faith in him—in us.
* * *
The check won’t fix everything. At moments when he is being especially sweet, when his eyes are full of love and shining at me like I can do no wrong … I think about Drew. Even though it meant nothing, even though I was filling a hole that Nathan had dug, it sits there, on my conscience. I keep waiting, thinking that he will bring it back up, will ask more questions. But maybe he feels about Drew the same way that I feel about Cecile. I don’t want to hear about anything they did, or words that passed between them. I only want to know that his heart is mine, and that he wants nothing to do with her.
