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Curiosity gets the best of me and before I have a chance to ask, the waitress brings us the check.
Jasper pays for it, then April watches us leave.
When we get into the limo, I ask, “Do you think she bought it?”
Jasper exhales and sags against the seat as Chance takes us home. “I hope so. We did great at pretending.”
I sink into the leather, placing my hands on my lap. Jasper removes his phone from his breast pocket and dials a number.
“Ellis. If a picture pops up of me and Poppy, make sure it’s on every site.” He ends the call and checks his emails.
I wish to one day have a man that treats me the way Jasper did in the restaurant, to dote on me and love me, but it won’t ever happen. I’ll never be in a healthy relationship.
No need to think about the fantasy. I chose this lifestyle, and now I have to live with the consequences.
Jasper
Ilean against the arch of the doorway of my library as I stare at Poppy while she curls up on the suede couch, eyes glued to her phone as she laughs hard. She’s so young and innocent, brightening up the whole damn room. I don’t like the way she made a warm, fuzzy feeling grow in my chest during dinner last night or that she makes my place feel like a… home. I haven’t been so affectionate toward a woman in a long time. It brought back memories of why I don’t do relationships in the first place. It makes me feel vulnerable, and I can’t have that.
Dark hair falls over her face and her light brown tone is smooth. Her presence dominates this room, and her perfume filters through the air. She’s more beautiful than the northern lights in Alaska. I love admiring her beauty, it reminds me of a beautiful painting that makes you stop to admire.
I glance around my place and notice she has replaced so much of my stuff. She ordered a new nightstand and a couch and placed digital frames of us and her family on the wall. She hired painters to paint two walls a deep purple and left the remainder of the walls black. It looks like a home, and if people were to come here, they would think we were a real couple.
I’m not going to lie to myself that I actually like her in my space, and the thought of getting married scares the shit out of me. The last relationship I was in, I was engaged to her and it didn’t turn out well. This is the best marriage deal where we both get something from each other—and no flowers, love, or hearts. Relationships are transactional. No matter what the cost. I hope she keeps it that way. I don’t want her to get any silly ideas.
She glances up at me, and a frown displays on her face, then she sets her phone face down on the cream table. Is she talking to other men? I shake my head. I’m being irrational. Poppy doesn’t seem like the type to go back on her word.
Either way, it’s none of my business. I know I’m paranoid, and I need to tone it down before I ruin whatever dynamic we have.
She crinkles her cute nose. “Why are you staring at me?”
I did a thorough search on my future parents-in-law, and what I learned was not good. Her stepfather is swimming in debt; he put their house down as collateral to a loan company and if he doesn’t pay it off soon, they will take everything. Her half-sister’s husband has been helping them pay the bills, but he’s fed up. They want Poppy to clean up their mess and since she doesn’t want to disappoint them, she’s going to do it. Even at the expense of her life. They are already leaving a sour taste in my mouth. My job is to protect her, so that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to protect her assets and the money she’s going to accumulate while she’s married to me, so when I decide to divorce her, she will live comfortably.
“Why do you care so much about getting your mother’s approval?”
The question has been rattling in my brain since the moment she asked me to help her stepfather. I stroll inside and sit in one of the chairs she picked out.
Her eyes widen as she studies my crisp shirt and my arms with veins trailing over my tan skin, then her doe eyes stare at my crotch and she blushes, quickly looking away.
She says she’s not going to have sex with me, but I have no doubt she’s going to go back on her word. Last night after dinner, I wanted to fuck her in the limo but refrained from touching her. It was hard to contain myself and show restraint, especially after I had a taste of her.
“Because… I don’t want to be an outcast.”
I scoot the chair closer to her to the point our knees touch, and she watches me closely. Her pulse jumps out of her neck. Despite her putting on a brave face, I make her nervous.
“Your stepfather has a mountain of debts,” I tell her.
She nods and sighs, twirling the end of a lock of her hair. “I know. He’s running out of money.”
I don’t understand her logic on wanting to help someone who keeps putting themselves in the same predicament. He can’t control his family’s spending habits.
I cross my legs, my eyes veering to the window as streaks of rain smear the glass. “So, you’re going to trap yourself into a loveless marriage to save them?”
Lavender scents the air coming from the candle burning on the coffee table.
She nods. “That’s what family is supposed to do. Help each other.”
I don’t understand why she cares about her mother; she verbally abuses her and treats her like shit. I thought she was helping them because she wanted money from them, but I can see as clearly as day that she’s choosing to marry me because she wants to help her parents. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’ve never seen anyone put their needs on the back burner for others.
