The Billion Dollar Wife

#12.

The red Ferrari was a blur of crimson against the grey asphalt of the city. She spent the afternoon drifting through high end boutiques and doing some food stuff shopping. Her final stop was the Dior boutique, where the air was filled with the cloying sweetness of expensive blossoms and the hushed tones of the elite.

She selected a few bottles of perfume and a sleek gold-cased makeup kit, her movements fluid and detached. As she reached the counter, the young woman ringing up the items paused, her eyes lingering on the diamond band on Ava’s finger and the expensive lines of her silhouette.

"You have such exquisite taste," the clerk murmured, a trace of envy coloring her professional smile. "It’s truly inspiring to see young ladies like yourself finding such success so early in life."

Ava leaned in over the glass counter, the scent of the perfumes she’d just sampled clinging to her skin. A small, sharp smile played on her lips. "I’m not successful," she whispered, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial hum. "I’m just spending my husband’s money. It’s much less work."

She gathered her shopping bags before the girl could formulate a response and walked out, the click of her heels sounding like a countdown on the polished floor. The drive back to the estate was quieter, the adrenaline of the theft and the shopping beginning to settle into a dull, throbbing ache in her temples.

Back at the mansion, she surrendered the keys to the waiting bodyguard. One of Dominic’s men, a silent man in a dark suit, moved to assist her with the bags. She didn't thank him, she simply headed upstairs to shed the day’s armor. She changed into something soft and retreated to the kitchen, the rhythmic task of chopping vegetables providing a brief sanctuary from her thoughts. By the time the sun had dipped low, the house was filled with the savory scent of a home cooked meal, and Ava was curled on the sofa, the flickering blue light of a soap opera providing the only company for her growing nerves.

****

Miles away. Dominic sat in his father’s study, His father, a man whose presence screams attention, sat across from him, while Silas leaned against the bookshelf, watching with a calculated, predatory stillness.

"You are a married man now, Dominic," his father began, his voice a low grate of authority. "The business will always be there, but you need to start giving more of your time to your wife. A foundation is not built on ledgers alone."

Dominic’s jaw tightened. "My work is more important to me than a woman I barely know. The business requires my full attention, especially now."

"Your wife is the priority," his father countered, his eyes narrowing. "She is the face of your stability."

Silas spoke up then, a mocking smile touching his lips. "Perhaps Dominic should step back entirely. Focus on the domestic bliss, build a family. I’m sure the rest of us can manage the family business while you’re busy being a husband."

Dominic stood abruptly, his chair scraping harshly against the floorboards. He leaned over the desk, his gaze boring into Silas. "Mind your own damn business, Silas, before I make it mine."

"Enough," their father commanded, the single word cutting through the tension. He looked at Dominic, his expression unwavering. "I have already booked a vacation for you and Ava. A week away from the city, away from the phones and the warehouses."

"You did what?" Dominic’s voice was a low growl of outrage. "I didn’t ask for this. I don't have time for a retreat."

"I did it for that girl," his father said, his tone softening only slightly. "She deserves time with the man she married, not the ghost who haunts this office. You will go."

Dominic stared at him, the fury radiating off him in waves. "I have no time for this nonsense," he snapped, turning on his heel and storming out of the room, the doors slamming.

The drive home was a reckless display of speed. Dominic tore through the gates of his mansion, parking his car across the cobblestone drive. It was late already. His security detail swarmed the vehicle the moment he killed the engine.

He threw his keys at the nearest man without looking. "Is she in?" he barked.

"Inside, Boss," the man replied, stepping back.

Dominic stormed into the foyer, his coat billowing behind him. The house was quiet, the only sound the distant murmur of the television. He reached the living room and stopped short. Ava was curled up on the oversized velvet couch, her small frame almost entirely swallowed by a shirt that looked jarringly familiar.

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. She was wearing one of his white dress shirts, the sleeves rolled up several times, the hem reaching her mid thigh. The sight of her in his clothes, looking so fragile and domestic, sent a jolt of something he couldn't name through his chest. He swore under his breath and reached down to shake her shoulder.

" Wake up."

She jolted awake, her eyes snapping open with a look of pure terror. She gasped, her body flinching away from his touch as if she expected a blow. The sheer raw fear in her expression startled Dominic, forcing him to take a half step back.

Realizing where she was, Ava let out a shaky breath. She pressed a hand to her chest, her heart visible under the thin fabric of his shirt. A sweet smile slowly spread across her face, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You're home," she whispered, her voice honeyed and soft. "Welcome back."

Dominic frowned, his suspicion deepening. The transition from terror to sweetness was too fast, too rehearsed. "You're wearing my clothes," he noted, his voice flat.

"It was comfortable," she said, standing up and smoothing the fabric. "I cooked for us. I thought it would be nice to have a real dinner for once. Why don't you freshen up and join me?"

Dominic watched her as she strolled toward the kitchen, her movements light and airy. He stood in the center of the darkened room, his mind racing. "What are you up to, girl?" he whispered to himself, his eyes following the sway of her hips until she disappeared around the corner.

He headed upstairs. He stripped off his jacket and was heading toward the bathroom when his phone vibrated on the nightstand. He picked it up, seeing a restricted number.

"Speak," he commanded.

"I have the information you asked for, Boss," the man on the other end said, his voice low and professional. "On your wife.”

"Tell me everything," Dominic growl.