by Mary Smith
I roll my eyes because I didn’t help with this statement. But, what’s the point in arguing? It’s simple and to the point.
“Dream.”
I look up from my phone and see Mrs. Stones standing there.
“Mr. Butler is waiting downstairs for you.”
I glance at the clock. It’s already after five and that means that it’s time for dinner with my husband.
“Thank you and go home. I’ve been overworking you the last few days.”
Mrs. Stones laughs. “That’s what I’m here for.”
I gather up my purse and laptop bag before heading to the elevator. I know there are photographers camped outside the building. I may not really want this marriage, but I sure as hell don’t want a bad picture in the press. I’m the face of JE; I need to be professional at all times. I fluff my chestnut colored hair and double-check my makeup in the reflection of the elevator door. My light brown eyes seem to be brighter than they had been the past few days, but I don’t think about it.
When I walk out of the building doors, the flashes from the cameras begin. I keep my head down until I reach the white Mercedes SUV.
“Hello, wife.” Gable’s blue eyes gleam as they meet mine.
“Gable.” I mutter.
“Oh, if it isn’t my new sissy.”
I turn to see Gideon sitting in the front seat.
“Gideon,” I groan. I’m not sure what it is about this guy, but I don’t like him.
“How was your day?” Gable asks.
“It went well. Thank you.” I need to remember I’m not going to let him get to me, but I need to be civil. “And yours?”
“Okay.” He answers, spying at me. I wonder what he’s thinking about. I’m sure it has something to do with me naked. Too bad he’ll never get that chance with me.
“My day was great, Sissy.” Gideon chips into the conversation.
I roll my eyes. “If you call me ‘sissy’ one more time, I’ll slap you on the back of the head.”
Gable chuckles next to me. I see Gideon shaking his head, and I really do have the urge to slap him. Instead, I put my hands in my lap so as to not to.
“I take it you received my check.” Gable turns the attention back to me.
“I did. Ronnie is taking care of all our debts this week. JE will be in the black by Friday.” My heart actually raced when I saw the carrier deliver it. Even with my doubts about this marriage, I knew that JE employees were going to be taken care of, and that mattered the most to me.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
When I look out the window I notice we’re right outside the city limits. I knew we would be going to Gable’s house. I didn’t figure he would stay in the city to have dinner.
His driver pulls up to a massive, strange looking iron gate and a brick wall surrounds the property. He punches in the code and the gates swing open, when we drive past them I notice the gates are sculpted with intertwining angels. The driver pulls around and stops in from of the ginormous house. It has to be at least four levels. It’s completely white, with vast columns in front of the home. Gideon opens my door for me and I glare at him.
“Mrs. Butler,” he winks. “Your house awaits.” He nods over to the building.
Gable comes up to my side and takes my elbow. “See you tomorrow,” he tells Gideon.
He nods and gets back into the SUV while Gable guides me into the home. I really don’t like Gideon and I know we’re going to butt heads soon.
I have been in mansions all my life. My wide circle of so-called friends is all from millionaire families and it shows in their homes and land. However, stepping into Gable’s house makes me stop.
Stunning, gorgeous, breathtaking, and outrageous are the only words that I can think of when I take in the surroundings around me. I look up and you can see each floor to the top where at the ceiling is a massive domed skylight. Everything is white, as white can be. I can imagine if the sun glares in that I would need sunglasses to move about.
“Let me give you a tour.” Gable drops his hand from my elbow and walks in front of him. He points out the living room, the formal living room, and the dining room, still all done in white. He takes me to the kitchen and I think my whole house could fit in here. It’s huge.
Gable then takes me to his personal elevator and we go to the second floor. He tells me that this floor is for guests mainly and shows me several bedrooms that are set up almost like hotel rooms.
We get back into the elevator and travel to the third floor.
“This is our floor.” He tells me as we get off and head down the hall. Unlike the previous floor, there are only three doors.
“This,” he stops at the first door, “is the security room.” He opens it and there are over thirty cameras inside.
“You have more security than the President of the United States.”
“That’s because I’m worth more than he is.” He chuckles.
I roll my eyes at his lame joke. He shuts the door and we go to the next door. He turns and his dark eyes meet mine.
“Since you’re so adamant about the ‘no sex’ rule, this is for you.” I’m perplexed at what he means until he opens the door and tells me, “This is your room.”
I hold back my gasp. The room looks similar to my room at home. The walls are still white, but the couch is purple and matches the bedding. There’s a white desk and a sitting nook.
“How did you know I liked purple?”
“Your father,” Gable answers without hesitation. “Once we planned out the contract, I had this room done for you.”
“How did you know I would sign it?”
Gable shrugs and for a second he looks a little sad. “I didn’t. I had a hunch you would though, once you knew about JE.”
I didn’t say anything.
He turns to his left. “This is your bathroom. Well, part of it is.”
Of course, when he turns on the light I have to adjust to the crisp whiteness of everything in here.
“And here,” he takes my elbow and we go across the room to a door. “This is my room.” When he opens it, it’s like mine, but all white.
“We’re across from each other?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” I could live with this arrangement and it would help with the no sex.
“Come.” He orders and guides me over to his bed. “Sit.”
I look at him for a moment.
“I’m not going to do anything. I want to give you something.”
I don’t move and I definitely don’t sit down.
“Please, Dream.” His voice is soft and I comply with hesitance. “Yesterday, when you ran off, you forgot something.” He walks over to his nightstand and opens the drawer.
“What did I forget?”
“This.” He opens the small box in his hand and this time I do gasp.
It’s a ring.
A colossal ring.
“What is this?”
“Your wedding ring.” He pulls it out of the box and takes my left hand, sliding it on my ring finger.
It has to be at least a ten-karat diamond, setting high up on another pillow of diamond. It’s platinum because I know Gable wouldn’t do white gold and I know it’s a princess cut. My dad had bought me numerous princesses cut rings over my lifetime. I knew the design well.
“Do you like it?”
I nod.
“Good. Now, let’s eat.”
“Oh.” I yelp. “What about you?” Why should I care if he has a ring or not?
He holds up his hand, and I see the plain platinum band. “I put mine on this morning.”
“Great, then let’s eat.” I stand and head out the door toward the elevator. I try my best to act like I always have huge ten million dollar rings on my fingers.
We travel down to the formal dining room. Gable pulls the seat out for me, just as he did in my office. As I’m situating myself in the chair, a woman around my age, with blonde hair, comes in and sets a salad in front of Ga
ble and me.
“Misha, this is my wife Dream.” Gable introduces us.
“Hello.” Misha nods, but her dark eyes are like steel glancing at me.
“Hello.” I answer back, but she’s already walking away. “Chef?”
“Of sorts. She handles a lot of the house business, too.” Gable begins to pick at his food.
“Could you please explain to me why everything is so damn white in this house?” I stare at the white table with white chairs and my salad sets on a white plate. “It’s a bit overwhelming.”
“I like it,” he states simply.
“Because…” I want the full explanation not a vague one.
Gable stares at me for a moment. “Because I like the way it makes everything bright and it all looks clean.”
“Okay.” That still doesn’t explain a lot, but if he wants to be that way, then fine. “I wondered if we would eat out tonight.”
“I figured after a long day you’ve had that you would want to come home.”
“This isn’t my home.” I correct him.
“It’s our home.”
I scoff. “I don’t think so, but if it makes you feel better to say that, then fine.”
Gable sits his fork down and stares at me. “You’re very off-putting. Have I done something wrong?”
I arch one eyebrow at him. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Outside of how our marriage started? I figured we would get to know each other before you passed judgment on me. Your father told me you were a good judge of character.”
I look away from him. Dad always said that about me, and it makes me miss him. Even though I’m still mad at him for this stupid arrangement, he’s my dad.
I take a deep breath. “You’re right. I apologize. I shouldn’t be so quick to judge you.” I told myself earlier I was going to show my true colors, but that doesn’t mean I have to be a total bitch. No matter how much I dislike this situation, I put myself here, and I need to live with it, make the best of it, and then figure a way out of it.
“Apology is accepted.” He returns to eating.
The silence becomes unsettling and extremely uncomfortable. I’ve never done well with the quiet. Not that I’ve ever wanted it very loud, either. I always liked simple cocktail parties. You can walk a room and socialize, drink your wine or champagne, and enjoy the atmosphere.
Misha comes back in and takes our plates away. A moment later, she brings the entrée of chicken, rice, and steamed broccoli.
“You said you did research on me. What did you find out?” I can’t stand the noiseless room anymore. I might as well figure what he knows about me.
“Well,” Gable cuts into the chicken. “You were active in the community and sports in college and studied hard. You graduated at the top of your class, and you’re an only child.”
“That’s it?” I’m sure he knows more than that.
“Oh, and you like to take a lot selfies.”
“I tend to do that a lot.” I take them for no one else but to have them for me. I did a lot of traveling on my own. I love exploring and this past summer I took pictures everywhere I went.
“However,” he studies me closely. “For someone who loves their phone and social media a lot, I haven’t seen you post anything about our marriage yet.”
I shrug. “I know.” In fact, I knew too well. My phone’s battery quickly died when the news hit of our marriage. Everyone wanted to know about it, but I said nothing. “You said all that needed to be said in the press release.”
Gable stares for another moment and then turns back to his food. “What did you find out about me?”
I stop mid-chew.
“Now, come on, Dream. Do you expect me to believe you didn’t check up on me?”
“Actually, I didn’t. Dad did, and I read the file.”
“And…” he presses just as I had.
“It stated you had a brother, and you started your company from the ground up at twenty-five. Plus, you’ve only had one long-term relationship and there really hasn’t been anyone since them. So, what happened to her? Did she get too old?” I quip at him.
“No and I can’t believe that’s all you found.” His voice is firm.
“I told you I didn’t find it, Dad did.” I tell him, again, in the same tone he used on me.
“Is there anything you want to know?”
“Who was the girl? Why isn’t she your wife?”
He pushes his plate away and rubs his chin. I can tell he’s thinking deeply on how to answer and it makes me more curious about her.
“She was someone I deeply cared about, but our lives went in different directions.”
“What a boring and politically correct statement. What’s the real story?” I know then there’s more to it.
“That is the story.”
“Growing apart?” I watch him, but he doesn’t divulge anything else. “Fine, if that’s what you want to stick with.” I pick at my food some more.
“What’s your story?”
“Mine?”
“Yes. Have you had any long term partnerships?”
I think back over the course of the last few years of my dating life. It’s nothing to write a novel about. “There have been a few guys, but nothing long-term or serious.”
“But, you have had boyfriends, right?”
“Yes.” I’m confused on where this line of questions is going.
“Tell me about the sports you’ve played.” He quickly changes the subject.
“Volleyball, mainly, and I was involved in cheerleading and dance in high school. Did you play any?”
“Football in high school and a little in college. I did it for the scholarship, really.”
“Your parents didn’t help you with school?”
He laughs. “You should fire whoever did your research.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone knows I come from a poor family. My parents were never able to afford college for me. I’ve worked for everything I have.”
“I didn’t know.” I hung my head. Maybe I should think a little bit before I start smarting off to him.
“It’s fine and now you do.”
Misha comes back in and takes the plates away before bringing a dessert to us. It’s apple pie with a scoop of ice cream.
“Are you trying to make me fat?”
Gable cocks his head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Do you have a three-course meal every night?”
He takes a large bite of his pie. “No, not usually.”
“Then it’s because I’m here?”
“Yes.” He continues to eat.
“You don’t have to. I’m fine with a simple dinner every night or even going out to eat.” I dig into the pie. I know I shouldn’t have the calories, but it looks too good not to eat it.
“Okay, I’ll remember that. Do you cook?” he changes the subject.
“Does microwaving mac-n-cheese count?”
“I think it would qualify.” He grins at me.
“Then I cook.” I can’t seem to stop eating the pie. It’s deliciously warm and addicting. I’m practically inhaling it.
“I’m going to guess you like it.” I hear the humor in his tone.
“Maybe.” I lick my lips and smack them together. I know I should have remembered my manners, because I instantly see the lust in his eyes.
“Is there anything else you want to know about me?”
I study his face and I know that he’s changing the subject.
“I think I know the basics. I mean, you’re forty-three, a billionaire, and currently married.” I grin at him.
“True to all. I know you’re twenty-three and also newly married.”
“True to all.” I repeat his words.
Misha comes back in and picks up the plates. “Do you need anything else this evening, Mr. Butler?”
Gable shakes his head. “No, my wife and I are done. Thank you.”
&
nbsp; Misha slightly nods, cuts me a quick look, and goes back toward the kitchen. I can tell she and I aren’t going to be the best of friends.
“Let’s head to the media room.” Gable stands.
“I don’t believe I saw it on my tour.” I follow him to the elevator.
“I saved the best for last.” He flips the switch and instead of going up, we go down a floor.
“There’s a ground floor?”
“Yes.”
“I bet you have a secret passage way too, don’t you?” I narrow my eyes.
“Possibly.” He smiles and I notice his dimple. It makes him look young and cute.
Cute?
Get with it, Dream. You’ve had one dinner with this guy. Wait…my husband. Gable isn’t some guy who asked me out on a date. We’re married.
We step off the elevator and right into another gigantic room. This time it looks like a movie theater. There’s a concession stand stocked full of popcorn, candy, and a soda machine.
“Do you want anything?”
“No thanks. I’m still full from dinner.” I tell him and continue to follow him past the aroma of sugar and salt into the theater.
The screen is as big as one in an actual theater. There are about thirty recliner-like seats. They’re all white leather and fluffy looking. The walls are a muted beige-ish color. It’s the first room I’ve seen which isn’t stark white.
“Why isn’t this room white?”
“It’s a media room. Too white would be blinding against the wall.”
“What are we doing here?” I ask, still looking around.
“I thought we could talk.” He holds his arm out to one of the seats in the back row.
“You thought this was a more comfortable setting?”
“Actually, yes, because my other idea was the bedroom, and I didn’t think you would have gone for that.” We both take a seat.
“You’re correct.” I bask in the softness of the chair. I could easily fall asleep in this chair. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I know you want to go to your house tonight, but I would like you to start staying here.”
I had already thought about this. I knew if we were going to be married, sex or no sex, I would have to stay here.
