Trophy Wife

by Alessandra Torre

  * * *

  Nathan clears his throat, and I look up at him. "Thank you. For helping me. As far as the marriage and our agreement goes, I will think about modifying our marriage, but would like you to think about continuing our agreement, if I make some concessions to improve your happiness."

  * * *

  He steps closer, stopping just before me, and I lose all intelligence when his hands settle on my hips. "What kind of concessions?"

  * * *

  "Make a list of your demands," he says gruffly. "But sex is a non-negotiable. I can't be around you without having you." With that declaration, he pulls me closer, and lowers his mouth to mine.

  * * *

  I have learned so much about this man since our last kiss, the roller coaster of my emotions taking me through a year’s worth of emotions in two short days. I respond, feeling the pull of arousal as my legs weaken and mind spins. I cannot say no to this man. His touch, his mouth. I grip the back of his neck as he lifts me by my waist, spinning us around and dropping me softly on the bed, the mattress sinking as he climbs above me.

  * * *

  As his mouth whispers down my neck, his tongue thumbing over the delicate skin, I wrap my legs tightly around him, pulling him closer, feeling the strength of his arousal against my needy body. I turn my head, opening the other side of my neck to him and see, through glass and space and glass, Drew—standing in the main house, his face dark with anger.

  CHAPTER 40

  I can live without romance. But the coldness from Nathan, that is what I have struggled with. That is what has made me feel the whore. The Nathan of today was different, smiling and carrying on a conversation without disdain, his charm and breeding causing my heart to do a subtle swoon. That Nathan—who spoke to me freely, listened to my words and treated me as an equal—that man I can live with.

  * * *

  I close my eyes, thinking of Drew, the expression on his face when our eyes met. When I saw him standing in the main house, watching us through the window, I turned my head, pushed his image out of my head and focused on Nathan’s hands, which were sliding under my shirt, his strong hands on smooth skin, the nip of his mouth against my neck.

  * * *

  “What’s going on, Candace?” My eyes flip open at Drew’s voice. Speak of the devil. I turn and watch him enter my room, his hands in his pockets—a deceptively casual gesture, his shoulders tight with tension, mouth pinched.

  * * *

  I toss down my magazine. “Nothing. Knocking would be appreciated.”

  * * *

  “Nathan didn’t knock.” The sharp tone of his words makes my guilt vanish and anger rise. He chuckles, a long, mean sound, and wanders through the room in a path that brings him closer to me. “Why’d you fuck him?”

  * * *

  I raise my chin, meeting his eyes. “I’m not your property, Drew. And, since you seem to be irrational, let me remind you that I am still bound by my agreement to Nathan.”

  * * *

  He scoffed. “The rules are out the window. You know that, you knew that the minute that we told you about the money; hell, your eyes lit up like a neon sign. You have power now, you could have told him no. Things are different now.”

  * * *

  I have power. I've told myself that fact, but it is different, hearing it from Drew. Solid. Concrete. I have power. I can fix this situation.

  * * *

  “Are you going to continue fucking him?”

  * * *

  I don't know what he wants. He’s leaving. I'm staying. I have power, I don't have to be miserable. I can have my cake—Nathan—and eat it too. This new Drew, one with too many motivations, and not enough transparency—I don’t like. I stand. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  * * *

  He leans forward, his hands fisting, making me think, for a brief moment, that he might lose control. “It is, in every way, my business.”

  * * *

  I have to get away from him. His intensity is too strong, his need too great. He has no one else to consider, no other emotions to fight. For him it is simple, a masculine, caveman need to dominate another man’s property. I see woman. I fuck woman. I own woman.

  * * *

  I see man. I fuck man. I desire romance.

  * * *

  The true epitome of romance is Nathan and Cecile. She robbed him blind and disappeared, breaking his heart into a thousand pieces, yet he still loves her—pines for her, will not look at another woman in the same way, his heart completely captivated by a woman who cares nothing about his life. I know. I can see the distance in his eyes, the constant distraction, his inability to see anything other than her absence. He has needs—I’ve felt that need between my legs, felt it sweep through him, his cock fucking me as if I am his last breath, and he is dying without oxygen. But his need only controls his body. She controls his heart.

  * * *

  I see man. I fuck man. I want man’s love.

  * * *

  Drew steps forward, pulling something from his back pocket and tossing it onto the bed. A small blue book, a gold seal on the front. “Your passport,” he says shortly. “There is also a card with Candace’s social security number and bank account number, both of which you need to memorize. The jet will depart day after tomorrow, Mrs. Dumont.”

  * * *

  I pick up the book, flipping it open to stare at my photo, my fingers tracing along my new name. I hear Drew’s exhale, see the look he gives me as he turns and walks out. And I wonder, as the door slides shut behind him, if he will try and come to me tonight.

  * * *

  I lock the door.

  CHAPTER 41

  I open the closet, and flip on the light, scanning the shelves until I spy a matching luggage set, three red and black DVF vintage-style trunks. I carry them to the center of the room and open Rosit Fenton's book of outfits.

  * * *

  I flip through the pages, pausing occasionally and moving back to the closet to pull hangers. With each new item, laid out in neat stacks on the bed, I am reminded of how lucky I am. My fingers pluck through designers I’ve only dreamed of. Oscar de la Renta. Versace. Chanel. I scoop up a pair of Louboutin heels, and some Tory Burch flats. I place the items carefully in the trunks, then move to the bathroom, which has MAC’s entire lineup, paired with every beauty item possible. Can I leave this life? Suddenly all of my complaints seem so trivial. My husband is taking me to the Bahamas for a week in our private plane. I let my eyes drift over the expensive details of the bathroom, the view of the sparkling pool and beautiful home. This is my life. I’d be foolish to leave.

  * * *

  I step to my desk, where my notepad sits, the page blank. I’ve tried a dozen times to do as Nathan asked, and write down my demands, to spell out what it would take for me to stay in this life.

  * * *

  I know what I really want. To sleep in bed at night next to Nathan. To have the Nathan who comes out when the cameras are on us—his loving smile, soft hands, mischievous grin and playful stories. I want to spend my evenings with him, side by side on the couch, my head in his lap, his hands in my hair, quiet moments that we both would treasure.

  * * *

  But I can’t put those demands down on paper. I can’t show my cards, especially not when it’s a losing hand. The worst-case scenario is for him to give me all of that, while his heart is still Cecile’s. My heart wouldn’t be able to resist, would fall down a long dark hole that it would never be able to climb out of.

  CHAPTER 42

  “Ready?” Nathan settles in across from me, pulling the seat belt across his lap. I nod, and he calls out to the pilot, stretching his long legs forward as he settles in.

  * * *

  “I am. Thanks for pushing back the flight.” Originally, we’d planned to leave this morning, but I’d had a sudden and frantic desire to see my father. I’d sped the entire drive to Crestridge, and had gotten in a full two hours with him before he was sleepi
ng and I was headed back to the house. Now, we’re flying to Fort Lauderdale, where we’ll have lunch and fuel up, then continue on to Nassau.

  * * *

  “No problem. It gave me some time to knock out some work items. I needed to scout out a lot anyway. It’s a hotel site downtown. Next week, if you are up for it, I’d love to get your take on it.” He speaks so freely now, his cold demeanor warmed to an impressive 98.6 degrees. Human.

  * * *

  I smile at the observation, reaching into my bag and pulling out a water bottle.

  * * *

  “What?” He leans forward. “That smile is worrisome.”

  * * *

  “Worrisome?” I laugh. “It’s just weird. How quickly you become normal. You were so unfriendly before.”

  * * *

  He frowns, adjusting his suit jacket, and smoothing down the lapels. “Like I told you, I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression. I wanted to be sure you were aware what our relationship was about.”

  * * *

  “Sex.”

  * * *

  “Well … sex, and your new identity. But, as you know, we had planned on keeping that part from you.” He says the words with a hint of an apology—not quite remorseful about his actions, but regretful of the deceit.

  * * *

  “And now, you feel comfortable with me? With me understanding that relationship?”

  * * *

  His blue eyes study my face, his shoulders relaxing at my calm demeanor. “Yes. I’m assuming, now that you know about Cecile, that you understand my … inability to give anything more.”

  * * *

  Cecile. I am really beginning to hate that bitch. I sigh. “So, tell me the plan.”

  * * *

  It doesn’t take him long to tell me, mostly because it is ridiculously simplistic. Originally, when I was to be kept in the dark, Nathan planned on taking me into the bank, with the pretense of opening a joint account in our names—presenting it as a token of goodwill. The paperwork would be simple, a registration card for the account, showing both of our names. I would sign, never knowing that, instead of adding both of our names to a new account, I was adding Nathan’s name to a pre-existing account, one with a cool fifty million inside.

  * * *

  Now that I am aware of the con, the new plan is to do a simple funds transfer, from his sister’s account to Nathan’s. They will ask for identification, I will present mine, and everything should be done in a matter of minutes.

  * * *

  “Will there be any paparazzi?”

  * * *

  “Only in certain places. Mark’s hired them for some restaurants and resort locations, so we can manipulate those occasions.” He takes a tight curve on the road, looking over as he drives. “Are you comfortable with that? Being photographed with me?”

  * * *

  “You mean, as a ploy to get Cecile’s attention? Yes, I am fine with that.” I lean back, curling up against the seat and closing my eyes, keeping my face peaceful. I don’t want any part in aiding a reunion between this man and Cecile. But, when he is acting, when he is playing to the cameras and grinning and leaning into me, planting soft kisses and holding my hand—that is heaven. And even if it is fake, even if it is for another woman, I’ll take it.

  CHAPTER 43

  Our plane touches down on a tiny runway, the line at customs crowded with antsy vacationers. It takes over an hour to get through, a bored Bahamian stamping my crisp new passport with barely a glance.

  * * *

  The limo, sent from the Atlantis Resort, is laughable—a decade old Lincoln with worn seats, ripped carpet, and a back window held together by a strip of duct tape. I shoot Nathan a worried look and he grins, placing a gentle hand on my back and guiding me in to the car. “Don’t worry,” he says. “These guys are subcontractors for the resort. It will get better.”

  * * *

  And it does. From the two hundred foot yachts cozied up outside of the towering casino walls to the gold columns, arched ceilings, and hand-painted murals decorating the lobby walls. We take the scenic route down to the pool deck, walking through a stone cavern of fish tanks, giant manta rays traveling alongside us. I try to contain my glee, to maintain an air of aloof snobbery, but fail miserably, shrieking with excitement as a shark swims by, and gasping at the beautiful actions of glowing jellyfish.

  * * *

  We cross a rope bridge over lazy hammerhead sharks, and when my feet sink into warm white sand, a tropical paradise of perfect blue green water before me, I can’t help the grin that stretches over my face, taking up every square inch of real estate. I wrap my arms around Nathan’s neck, catching him by surprise, my lips pressing exuberantly to him, his mouth widening into a smile beneath mine.

  * * *

  “You like?” he whispers.

  * * *

  “I love,” I shoot back, jumping up and wrapping my legs tightly around him, my momentum knocking him off balance and taking us down to the ground, my mouth pestering him for another kiss, his laugh catching us both off guard and giving me full access to his mouth.

  * * *

  The moment changes, heating up, his hands traveling down, roughly gripping my sundress-covered ass and pulling me against his body, the line of his arousal suddenly stiff against me.

  * * *

  The click of lenses is what pulls us out of the moment. He rolls with me, sitting up on his knees, gently brushing sand off of me and offering me a hand. I accept, and he pulls me up and in for one more kiss, a playful smile on his lips. “Let’s go to the room,” he says hoarsely, his eyes darkening. “I need you. Now.”

  * * *

  And we run, sandy flip flops slapping against bare rock, my smile lasting through two elevators, one long ass hallway, and onto the giant bed in our luxurious penthouse suite.

  CHAPTER 44

  “Another beer?”

  * * *

  I look up from my plate with a smile. “Yes, thank you.”

  * * *

  We are in Seafire, a steakhouse in the Atlantis resort, dining on lobster and steak at a table by the window. I can see cameras when I look outside, the collapsed arm of a photographer draped over a large lens, cigarettes glowing in the night as they chat, waiting for us to leave. Every once in a while I find their eyes on me, their lens positioning for a quick shot.

  * * *

  “Are you having a good time?” Nathan asks, tipping back an ice-cold bottle of Kalik.

  * * *

  “Considering all we’ve done is have one incredible fuck, yes. Thank you for asking, Mr. Dumont. Excellent trip planning.” I grin, taking a mouthful of conch and settling back in my chair, savoring the buttery taste of perfection.

  * * *

  “Any qualms about tomorrow?”

  * * *

  “As a matter of fact, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

  * * *

  His eyebrows rise questioningly. “Yes?”

  * * *

  “First, I just want to confirm that, upon our separation, you will continue to care for my father.”

  * * *

  He settles back in his chair. “There is no chance of you continuing in the marriage?”

  * * *

  I brush off the question with a shrug and a swig of my beer. “I’ll let you know that after this weekend. I need more time to think about that. More time with this …” I gesture with my fork. “…Nathan. I’m not used to him yet.”

  * * *

  He grins. “Point well taken. I’ll try not to bend you over in front of any strangers while we’re here.”

  * * *

  I frown, the joke hitting a little close to home, reminding me of my lips on a stranger’s cock—Nathan’s hand sliding up the back of my dress as I sucked. The problem was two-fold. I hated being used, being told what to do, but I had grown wet during the experience, his authoritative instructions incredibly erotic in their commanding tone. I try to refocus, to move my thoughts back t
o where I am, on my fairytale dream date. “Let’s get back to my dad.”

  * * *

  He shrugs, cutting into his steak. “You saw the amendment my attorney made. Your father is officially my life-long dependent. I will support any medical expenses while he is sick—once he improves, I will cover his living expenses, up to seven thousand dollars a month.”