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I arch an eyebrow. “His office is here in the same building?”
“The headquarters of his company are,” Tess answers.
I didn’t know that. I suppose it’s convenient, though, working in the same building where you live and vice versa.
“I’m not sure about lunch. He rarely has it here. Sometimes he doesn’t have dinner here, either. It depends on what time he comes up. But when he does, it’s either in the library or the entertainment room.”
“I see.”
He sure is a busy man. I’m torn between admiration and feeling sorry for him for working so hard. Doesn’t he get tired? How much harder does he have to work when he already has so much?
“In that case, I’ll have meals with my dad. Lunch and dinner. I usually eat a light breakfast.”
“Would you like it in bed?”
Sounds tempting, but I don’t want to get any crumbs where I sleep. “No. I’ll go to the kitchen or the dining room or… somewhere else.”
“Sure, Mrs. Burke. Anything else you’d like to add?”
I shake my head. “Not at the moment.”
She nods. “Let me know if you need anything.”
With that, she leaves the room. I let myself fall on top of the bed once more. This time, though, I stare at the ceiling.
“Mrs. Burke,” I say out loud to myself. “Billionaire’s wife.”
I sigh.
Oh, Aster, what did you get yourself into?
~
I spend the next few days mostly at the apartment, working – I refuse to give up my job – and spending time with my dad and the dogs. I’ve taken them out for a walk at the National Mall, but I feel like I don’t really have to since Mason wasn’t lying when he said they’d have a lot of green spaces to run around here on the ninth floor. My dad tells me I should be with Mason, but I’ve rarely spoken to him since the day I moved to DC. He really is a busy man.
He’s still busy now. It’s almost midnight, but he’s still in the library with two laptops and his two phones in front of him. He’s still in his suit, too, though his jacket and his tie are off and the top three buttons of his shirt are undone. He absent-mindedly twirls what looks like a flash drive between his fingers as he gathers his thoughts. I don’t really want to disturb him, but as I slowly back away from the door, he lifts his head and our eyes meet.
Busted.
“Hey.” I run my fingers through my hair.
“Hey.” He sits back on the couch.
He looks tired, but not worn out.
“Can’t sleep?”
“I can,” I answer. “I was just… checking on you, wondering what you’ve been up to. I’m living in your apartment but I’ve barely seen you around.”
Mason grins. “So you’ve missed me, have you?”
I frown. “I was just…” I sigh. “Forget it. I’ll go.”
I turn on my heel.
“Wait,” Mason says.
I glance at him and he pats the space on the couch beside him.
“Come here.”
I hesitate a moment but sit by him anyway, reminding myself that we should at least be friends.
“How are you?” he asks me.
I tear my gaze away from the exposed patch of skin on his chest. “Good. I like my room. The chefs are great.”
“They are,” he agrees.
I draw a breath. “I’m still finding my way around. Literally, sometimes.”
The floors are just so big that I can’t help but get lost.
Mason chuckles.
“I can’t believe you own this building.”
“I own a lot of buildings,” he says.
Of course he does. “And let me guess. You and the President are friends.”
“The one who lives across town?”
“Yes.”
Which president did he think I was referring to?
Mason touches his chin, which already has a thin coat of hair. “We talk occasionally.”
I snort. I can’t reprimand him for bragging, though. He’s just telling the truth, and I did ask.
“You really are a big shot, aren’t you?” I say.
“Hey.” He moves the flash drive to his other hand so he can pat my thigh. “I’m still Mason, the guy from next door you used to hate.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t hate you. I just said that because…”
Because you stole my first kiss.
I’m never going to be able to push that memory away now, am I?
“Because I was already confused and you pulled the rug out from under me.”
Mason nods. “Yeah. I was a jerk.”
“And you still are. Sometimes.”
“See. I’m still the same.”
“Only billions richer,” I point out.
“That’s right, Mrs. Burke.” He touches my nose with his fingertip and grins. “You’re a billionaire’s wife.”
That reminds me of what I’ve been wanting to talk to him about.
“Mason, there’s something we forgot to discuss.”
“What?”
“Money,” I tell him.
I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s one of my least favorite topics. I suppose all married couples, even fake ones, have to, though.
“Do you need cash?” Mason asks me. “I gave you a card but I forgot to give you some cash. If you need a few bills, you can just call accounting downstairs and – ”
