by Nina Levine
I endure a long silent moment while he decides which way to go, and then finally, he says, “If you must.” He eats some of his bacon before starting a new conversation. “I have to go out of town on Friday night for the weekend. I’ll be home Sunday afternoon.”
I work hard not to show how happy this makes me. Casually, I enquire, “Where are you going?”
“Sydney. I have work meetings all weekend.”
“Okay.” I nod, thinking about all the free hours I’ll have. Joe likes to pack our weekends with social engagements that bore the hell out of me. He also keeps me on my toes on the weekends simply because he’s home and always watching me.
He finishes eating his breakfast while I scroll my work emails. When he’s finished, he moves around the island to make a coffee to go. This is our standard routine every morning before his driver drives us into the city for work. I’d prefer to make my own way, but Joe insists we drive together. It’s just another way he can control me. I’m fully aware of that and allow it because I have other battles with him that are more worthy of fighting.
I finish with my emails as his hand slides over my hip, and he moves in close behind me. Unease prickles across my skin, and I still when he says, “I want you ready for me tonight.” He drops his lips to my bare shoulder and kisses me. “You were asleep by the time I came to bed last night.”
Oh God, no.
He’ll see the bite marks and bruises if we have sex.
I place my hand over his. “I’m on my period.”
His fingers grip my hip, digging into my skin. “I don’t give a fuck.”
The unease of a moment ago slithers all the way through me.
“I do.” I turn to face him, desperately wanting his eyes as far away from my neck as possible. “I don’t like to have sex when I have my period.”
The vein in his neck pulses. “That needs to change. Tonight.”
With that, he reaches for his coffee and strides out of the kitchen, leaving me with no doubt as to what he intends to make happen tonight.
“Chelsea.” My boss sticks his head in my office just before lunch, looking irritated. “Have you finished with those files I asked you to look at this morning?”
Shit. I grimace. “Sorry, I’m still going through them. Can you give me another half hour? I’ll make sure they’re done by then.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Okay, half an hour. Get it done.”
I lean back in my seat after he leaves and throw my pen down on the desk. It’s been a shit of a morning so far, and I don’t see the day improving anytime soon. My boss is usually the most patient man I know, but he’s been on edge today; I’ve had client after client call me with issues they need fixed straight away; and on top of that, Brielle, one of my colleagues, has been the biggest bitch to me simply because she thinks I get special privileges at work due to my father being the premier. That’s been going on for weeks, and I’ve let her catty remarks slide, but I’m ready to tell her where to go today. I don’t get anything at work due to Dad being the premier. If anything, I have more to prove and have to work harder than everyone else.
My phone sounds with a text.
Alexa: Wanna go to yoga tonight?
Me: I knew you enjoyed it the other day!
Alexa: Well?
Me: Ugh, I can’t. I have a dinner with Joe’s friends tonight.
Alexa: How come I never get invited to dinner with you and Joe?
Me: Trust me, that’s not an invite you want.
Alexa: He’s your husband now, babe. You can’t keep me from him forever.
Alexa knows the same story Mason knows about my marriage. She thinks I walked away from Mason so he wouldn’t go to jail. She thinks I married Joe to help my father’s political career. While those things are true, they don’t come close to being the whole story, but that’s a story neither of them can ever know.
Me: I won’t. But be careful what you wish for is all I’m saying. Joe’s dinners aren’t as fun as our dinners.
Alexa: I bet. I can’t imagine you getting smashed with him like you do with me.
Me: I don’t. Shit, I gotta go. I promised to get a heap of work done for my boss in the next half hour. See you in an hour xx
Alexa: See you then xx
We’re having lunch together today. Well, I won’t be if I don’t get these files done for my boss, so I block out all distractions and spend the next twenty-five minutes finishing work on them. I drop them on his desk with one minute to spare.
“Thanks, Chelsea,” he says. “I appreciate this and I’m sorry if I was snappy earlier.”
I wave him off. “All good. Let me know if you need anything else.”
He nods and gets back to work.
I head to the bathroom and run into Brielle in there.
She’s applying lipstick as I enter and shoots me a filthy look in the mirror.
I tell myself to keep walking, and I do for a second, but then I stop. My nerves are shot today thanks to being on high alert this morning with Joe, and then dealing with all the things I’ve had to today while also trying to figure out how to keep my husband away from me tonight. At this point, I’m not above poisoning myself so I end up in hospital, far, far away from him.
I’m also done with Brielle’s bullshit.
“Are you a bitch to everyone or is it just me?” I ask.
She glares at me as she takes her time finishing applying her lipstick. With a smack of her lips, she turns to face me. “I don’t like you, Chelsea, and I don’t like the fact your surname opens doors for you. You’re no better than any of us, so you shouldn’t be treated better.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not treated any better than you or anyone else.”
“Yeah, you are. And that was before you married into the Hearst family. I mean, I’m surprised you even bothered coming back to work after your wedding. You have a gorgeous husband with millions in the bank. Why don’t you just do us all a favour and sit at home and let him take care of you?”
“Ah, because I’m not the kind of woman to rely on a man like that. And because I have goals and dreams in life that don’t revolve around a man.”
“Yeah, well you being here takes up a spot at the firm that someone else could have. Someone who really needs the job.”
I jab my chest, my anger rising. “I really need this job.”
“Until you start having babies, and then all this time you were here will have been a waste of time for someone else who had to wait for you to leave.” She leans closer. “Just fucking quit and spend your days shopping and sucking your husband’s dick. We’ll all be a hell of a lot happier.”
I slap her without thinking.
Her eyes widen as her hand moves to her cheek. “You did not just do that.”
My breathing has sped right up. I can’t think straight I’m so mad. “Yeah, I did just do that, and you deserved it. Don’t ever say anything like that to me again.”
“Or what? You’ll run to the higher-ups and let them kiss your ass for fear of upsetting your daddy or your husband?”
My chest rises and falls harshly as I stare at her. I’m stunned by everything she’s said. She’s even more poisonous than I thought. “I don’t know where you’re getting these ideas from, Brielle, but no one kisses my ass here because of who I’m related to.”
“You really have no idea, do you?” She shakes her head and looks at me like she pities me. “The Novak’s and Hearst’s of this world run it, which means women like you get a free pass all the way through. Anything you’ve achieved is because of the men in your life, honey, not because you’re any good at what you do. The sooner you understand that the better off we’ll all be.”
With that, she breezes out of the bathroom, leaving me feeling like I’ve just taken a beating. I’ve worked hard getting my degree and then this job, and I know the work I do at the firm is good, so I don’t believe her that my success is because of my connections. But it’s hard when someone like Brielle, a bully
, gets in your ear. You start to question things you shouldn’t, and I know that as much as I’ll try not to, I’ll stew over every single word she’s said to me today. I’ll do my best not to buy into any of it, but the things bullies say always leave their mark in some way. I should know; my father has spent my entire life teaching me this.
I finish in the bathroom and head back to my office, checking the Facebook notification I receive on the way. Alexa shared a link for a new hairdresser she’s thinking of trying out, and I’m about to tap it when I see a post featuring a photo of Mason. It’s crazy that we’re still friends on Facebook, that neither of us has unfriended the other. Mason’s hardly on Facebook, so I get that he hasn’t bothered to remove me, but I’m on here every day, and I can’t bring myself to do it. He didn’t share the photo I’m looking at now; he was tagged in a post from Harlow, his president’s old lady. I really like her, but what I truly like is that she shares photos of the guys, which means I stumble across Mason every now and then when I’m not expecting it.
God, I’m supposed to be leaving him behind and moving on, but here I am, desperately craving a piece of him. Desperately craving a piece of the man who I want to hate for how fast he moved on from me. I know he thought I’d moved on, and that’s why he did it, but it still cut deep. Alexa told me it meant nothing to him, but that doesn’t matter; it meant something to me. He didn’t just sleep with her. He broadcast that fact everywhere to make sure I knew. To make sure he hurt me.
I exit out of the app as a text comes through from Joe.
Joe: I need you at the restaurant half an hour earlier than dinner.
Me: Why?
Joe: I’ve lined up a quick interview for a piece on your dad. They want a photo of us and a few questions.
Me: I can’t guarantee I’ll be finished with my client in time.
He switches from text to a call.
“Make this happen, Chelsea,” he says, his voice dropping into warning territory. “Tonight’s the only night they can do the interview.”
“My work’s important to me, Joe. I don’t think you understand that.”
“And I don’t think you understand my level of care about that. Your father put me in charge of publicity; I’m making sure I deliver what he needs.”
My hand squeezes around my phone as I take a couple of deep breaths. “You can be a real prick, do you know that?”
“I’m aware. I’ll see you tonight. Make sure your hair is out. It photographs better like that.”
The line goes dead and I stare at the phone.
I fucking hate him.
I send a text to Alexa.
Me: Joe’s away this weekend. We need a girls’ weekend down the coast.
Alexa: Oh God, yes! With all the girls or just us?
Me: Invite everyone.
Alexa: On it!
It’s been too many months since I’ve had something to look forward to; I intend on forgetting my life for a few days and having the best weekend doing all the things my husband hates me doing.
I make it to the restaurant with five minutes to spare. I had to cancel my lunch with Alexa and work like a demon all afternoon so I could bring my last client meeting forward in order to keep Joe happy. I’m pissed as hell over this fact, but I’ve got a lot of balls in the air where Joe’s concerned, and this is not a battle worth fighting with him. Not when the biggest thing I need to focus on right now is keeping him away from my body and Mason’s marks.
He’s sitting at the bar when I arrive and tracks every step I take to him. Standing, he slides his hand around my waist and kisses my cheek before moving his mouth to my ear and saying, “Good girl.”
The display of affection is for show.
The greeting is to remind me he’s in charge.
Asshole.
I smile tightly up at him as I bring my hand to cup his cheek. “How was your day, darling?”
He works his jaw. “Careful, Chelsea. I’m not in the mood tonight.”
I drop my hand and glance around the restaurant. “I’m on time. It’d be nice if the journalist was too.”
Joe looks past me. “I have to take care of something. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I turn and stop breathing for a second when I find Mason watching me from the doorway. He’s with Griff and he looks pissed to be here.
Joe leaves me, heading in their direction and ushering them out of the bar. I watch them until I can no longer see them. I then collapse onto a barstool and order wine. I fucking need it after the day I’ve had. I also need it after seeing Mason. We’ve managed to go months without running into each other, and now he’s everywhere. I have no idea why, but it seems his club is doing some work with Joe. I make a mental note to find out why. I need to know how much longer I can expect to be seeing him every damn day.
The journalist turns up before Joe returns. I’ve just ordered my second wine, after guzzling my first, when she arrives. Not a bad thing; it means I’ve taken the edge off enough to dazzle her with engaging conversation and laughter.
“Oh good,” Joe says when he comes back, “you two have met.”
I shoot him a big, wide smile like a real wife would. “Darling, come and tell Susan all about how you proposed to me.” I look at Susan and wink. “He’s such a romantic. He made me swoon so hard.”
Joe watches me carefully. No one but me would note the assessment going on in that brain of his. They would only see the love he’s taking care to project. But I see the way he watches, and right now, I’ve had enough to drink to play with him.
He moves to my side, casually placing his arm over my shoulders as he recounts our fake proposal. We didn’t come up with this story together. I made it up during the first interview he forced me to do, and I’ve embellished it every time I’ve told it since then. The last time I told it, he pulled me aside after and told me in no uncertain terms to fucking stop adding extra layers to it. I took that as a win.
“So when can we expect baby Hearsts?” Susan asks.
I almost choke on the sip of wine I’m taking as she throws that question out.
Joe squeezes me tightly. “Soon I hope.” He looks down at me, a cautionary glint in his eyes. “We’re working on it.”
I place my hand to his chest. Lovingly. So very fucking lovingly. “Darling, let’s not start a rumour. That’s not fair to anyone.” I look at Susan and smile sweetly. “He’s being silly, Susan. It’s a joke between us. I mean, we want kids for sure, but I’m only twenty-five and just at the start of my career, so it’s going to be a few years before we think seriously about children.”
Joe’s fingers dig into my arm. “I’m sorry, Susan, but we need to wrap this up now. Our dinner guests have just arrived.”
“Oh, of course!” Susan exclaims. She’s been flustered since Joe arrived. Most women who meet him have the same experience. If only they knew his devastatingly good looks don’t match his soul. “Thank you so much for this interview. I’ll send a copy through as soon as it’s written up.”
Joe reaches for his scotch and takes a sip as he watches her walk away. He then looks at me. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”
His tone crawls all over me. Even the wine I’ve had doesn’t dull the effect his voice has. I hate that I swing between wanting to go head-to-head with him and wanting to run away. Joe handles me in such a way that some days he lets things slide, while other days he doesn’t give an inch. There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to which things he refuses to ignore, so I don’t have a playbook figured out yet.
I drink some wine, doing my best not to show how much he’s affected me. I then take a risk I’m not fully feeling, but damn him, I can’t keep allowing fear into this relationship. When I agreed to marry him, I did not agree to give him all the power. “I’m not having children soon, Joe. That was never part of our agreement, and I don’t appreciate you telling people that.”
The displeasure he feels is splashed all across his face. So much so that anyone looking at hi
m right now will see it as clearly as I do. Gone are all the pretences of a moment ago. “Our agreement was for a marriage. Marriages produce children as far as I’m concerned, Chelsea. You’ll do well to remember that.”
I’m in a mood today. It’s the only reason I have for saying, “And you’ll do well to remember I actually hold the power when it comes to having a baby. It’s my body, not yours. Don’t push me on this because you won’t like being childless.”
Before he has a chance to respond, I drain my wine glass, pick up my clutch, and stalk away from him. I shake all the way to the bathroom. From anger mostly, but also a little fear. This marriage is a battle zone I was not prepared for.
I take my time in the bathroom. I need to in order to calm myself down enough to make it through this dinner. When I exit back out into the hallway that connects through to the bar and restaurant, I find Mason leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at me, still with that pissed off look on his face.
I’m surprised, but only momentarily because my anger takes over. It’s all the emotions carrying over from last night with him, today with Brielle, and this morning and tonight with Joe, all rolled into one that explodes out of me when I spit out, “Fuck you!”
He keeps his ass against the wall and his arms crossed as he lifts a brow and says, “I did that last night and it did fucking nothing for me.”
I take a step closer to him, my whole body lit with the need to fight this battle with him. I might be ignoring most of the battles in my life with Joe, but there’s not one part of me that can walk away from Mason. “That wasn’t the impression I got.”
His nostrils flare. “You misread the situation, princess. I was just showing you what you’re missing.”
“I’m not missing anything.” Lies, lies, lies. They’re littered all through my life these days.
His features darken. “Yeah, you looked real fucking cosy with your husband and that reporter.”
His jealousy sparks feelings in me I’m ashamed to admit I like. “What do you want, Mason? I have to get back to him.”
