Chapter 2 - Moving Into The Enemy's House
372 Words
The black Maybach in front of my apartment building did not look like it belonged here.
Neither did I.
The driver opened the door. "Mrs. Blake. Your husband sent me."
Husband. The word felt wrong in my mouth.
Ethan’s penthouse was on the 40th floor. All glass and cold.
No photos. No plants. Just money and silence.
"Your room is down the hall," he said without looking at me.
"He cooks. He cleans. Don’t bother the staff. Don’t go to my office.
And remember clause 7."
No emotional involvement. Got it.
That night I couldn’t sleep. So I went to the kitchen.
It was bigger than my whole apartment.
I found eggs, flour, and made pancakes. It was the only thing I knew how to do when I was nervous.
At 6AM he walked in, still in a suit. He stopped when he smelled the food.
"What are you doing?"
"Cooking," I said. "You have to eat, right? Even for the contract?"
He picked up a pancake. Took a bite. His expression didn’t change.
But he ate 3 of them.
"Not bad," he muttered. Then he left for work.
That was the first time he looked at me like I was a person.
Later that day, his assistant called. "Mr. Blake needs you at a gala tonight.
As his wife. Dress will be sent to you."
A red dress arrived 1 hour later. $5000 tag still on it.
When I came downstairs, Ethan was waiting.
He looked at me for 2 seconds too long. Then he looked away.
"You clean up well," he said.
"Let’s go, Mrs. Blake. And smile. People are watching."
In the car he added, "Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t drink. And if my ex shows up...
just follow my lead."
My stomach dropped. Ex.
The gala was full of rich people and fake smiles.
And then I saw her. Tall. Blonde. In a diamond dress.
She walked straight to Ethan and hugged him. "Baby, I heard about the marriage.
Is this the girl?"
Ethan’s arm came around my waist. Tight. Possessive.
"Yes," he said, voice cold. "This is my wife, Ava."
His ex’s smile dropped. And for one second, Ethan looked down at me...
like he meant it.
- Writer
