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Barrett
After I told Neil that I’d work from home today, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. Ok, so I’d indulged a little too much, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it, considering how close it had brought me and Emma. The memory of her leaning over me, pressing against me, just being close enough to smell her sweet scent, would live in my dreams for all time. I got dressed for a day at home, in dark jeans and a polo. As I put my clothes away, I noticed the pants that I’d worn while snooping around Emma’s room, and checked for the panties inside. I took them out, and like the obsessed man I was, put them to my nose and inhaled. Damn laundry detergent and softener filled my nose. It was irritating how good a job the washing machine had made. One day soon, I wanted to smell the real scent of Emma. I wanted it rubbed across my face, and to feast on it.
With those thoughts sending blood rushing to my dick, I went to the bathroom, and attempted to pee for a good ten minutes. Christ, thoughts of Emma did me no favours in that department. I wanted her too much, and it was getting hard to hide it. Yet, the memory of telling her I was going to take care of her was front and centre in my mind. There was only one way that was going to do it. I would tell her all about that today.
Now, in fact.
I heard the downstairs door slam. Emma returning from the school run. After a moment, the music went on, and I knew she was tidying up, and that her dancing would soon follow. I went downstairs. I needed coffee at this point. I couldn’t wait for it one more moment, plus I had an online meeting in about ten minutes.
Emma jumped when I made my way into the kitchen, spinning around, and raising the coffeepot in front of her like it would save her from me.
“Mr Bonneville! I was just going to bring you some coffee,” she said. She looked edible this morning, and I fought to keep my distance. After last night, I felt closer than ever to her.
“Sweetheart, call me Barrett. I told you that last night,” I reminded her. The endearment made her blink unsteadily at her.
“Sweetheart? I thought that was drunk Barrett talking.”
“No. I’m practising for the real deal. I told you last night that I was going to take care of your visa problems and I will. For that, we are going to have to get a lot closer than we currently are,” I told her, sipping my coffee. The taste of coffee poured by Emma was better than anything else.
“Closer? In what way?” she asked, intrigued.
“In a legal way. Emma. In order to solve our little paperwork problem, there is only one solution. You’re going to marry me,” I told her flatly. Her eyes widened, and she leaned back against the counter, as if my words had knocked her off her feet a little.
“Marry you?” she repeated. I nodded, sipping my coffee. “You are offering to marry me so that I can solve my immigration problems?” she asked. No. I’m offering to marry because I’m fucking obsessed with you, and want to bind you to me in all the ways I can.
“It would work. I already asked a lawyer at work to look into it,” I said instead. It wasn’t quite time to let down my guard and reveal exactly how fucked up I was over Emma. I didn’t want to scare her off considering how close I was to making her mine.
“You did? Really? But wouldn’t they know it’s a sham marriage? A green-card marriage, isn’t that the name of it?”
“We wouldn’t act like it was a green card marriage. We already live together. We’d have a wedding, tell the kids, tell everyone… it would look real. Anyway, I’m not the sort of person who gets looked into too closely for that sort of thing,” I said. She raised an eyebrow, inviting me to elaborate. “I’m rich, connected and privileged as hell. If I want to marry an English girl, no one will stop me,” I told her. It sounded horribly arrogant, but it was true. I might as well use the advantages that I had available to me.
“I don’t know what to say,” she confessed after a moment.
“You don’t have to say anything. You promised to trust me last night, so start now.”
“But this is crazy, it messes up your life.”
“Let me worry about my life. You gave me control and responsibility over your life… I’m not giving it back yet.” The tension between us felt unbearable right now, and I would have crossed the distance between us and pulled her into my arms if I hadn’t had a zoom call literally breathing down my neck, and if she didn’t look so unsure. Emma needed time to adjust to the idea. I got that. I could give her it, for a while. “I have to go. Think about it, and ask questions you have. Tonight, let’s talk about it all.”
I pushed off the counter and refilled my coffee cup once more before heading back upstairs. My heart was racing in my chest at finally coming close to saying the things I wanted to say to Emma, to her face. I had been dreaming of this day for six long months, since she walked into my life and heart all at once. I sat at my laptop in my office, accepted the meeting, trying to turn my attention to work, when all it wanted to do was linger on Emma, and how she would soon be my wife.
