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I know what game she’s playing at. That woman thinks she can change my viewpoint of her. Make me see her for more than what she really is—a rich girl who has had everything handed to her in this life. Well, she’s wrong.
I see her, and I’ve been playing way longer than she has.
Walking out, she’s sitting on the bed with her cell in hand.
“This house will be yours after the wedding. I’m going to my apartment,” I tell her my plan.
I have needs, and my future wife won’t meet them, no matter how much she teases me.
“What?” She looks at me, shocked. “You’re just leaving me in this house?” she questions.
“Yes. It will make things easier. My office is closer to my apartment anyways.”
Lottie throws a pillow at my face. I catch it.
“Sometimes you act like a spoiled brat,” I say to her, throwing the pillow to the floor.
“That’s rich coming from you. You can’t function if you are not getting your way. First, you blackmail me. Then you force me to marry you. You made me move in here. Made me give up my home. So, you can what…” Her eyebrows raise. “Move into your own apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s easier that way. You can have this house to yourself. Some of my things will still be here to show that I am living here, but I won’t be. You can do as you please, just don’t ruin my clothes again.”
“So tomorrow, you’re just going to go to your apartment?”
“Yes, we’ve just discussed this.”
“So, you can fuck who you want. Correct?”
I smile. She isn’t dumb.
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck, I didn’t just fuck you then.” She turns around, showing me her back as she turns off the light.
“Goodnight,” I tell her.
“Fuck off already,” she tells me back.
“Okay, dude, there’s over one hundred people out there. What the fuck?” Barry says, opening the door and coming back inside. “This was meant to be small.”
It was, until her father got involved and changed all our plans.
“Is it time?” I ask him.
Lottie didn’t speak to me this morning. She simply took her dress out of the closet when her friend Emma arrived and left without saying goodbye. It’s probably easier that way. Not to have to deal with her attitude or mood swings. After this, she can go on living her life, and we will only have to be together for functions, so people believe we are actually husband and wife.
Easy.
I hope.
The door opens, and in walks her father dressed in a designer suit.
“You ready?” he asks, looking from me to Barry, who’s nodding his head.
“Yes.”
