The Billionaire’s Blind Wife

Chapter 18

Matias

If my chief financial officer had walked into my penthouse this morning, he would have resigned on the spot out of sheer professional embarrassment.

I was standing in the middle of my kitchen, which has officially been declared a disaster zone. The scent of roasted, coffee beans precisely weighing eighteen grams, filled the air, mingling with the sugary, slightly burnt odor of what my wife claimed was "artisanal caramel syrup." The syrup was currently dripping off the side of the pressure activated cabinets."Matias!" June yelled from the living room. She was sitting cross legged on our yellow rug, wearing an oversized t shirt, her signature dark sunglasses, and a pair of mismatched fuzzy socks. Barney was lying across her lap, looking highly pleased with himself. "Are you burning my beans? If you burn them, I will literally give Barney your expensive shoes to chew on."

"The beans are not burning," I called back, carefully wiping a splash of sticky caramel off my custom oak paneling. "But your syrup has successfully bonded with the marble countertop at a molecular level. I might have to call a stone mason." "Oh, don't be dramatic. A little hot water and some elbow grease will get it right off," she dismissed, waving a hand in the air. She tapped her phone screen, which was currently projecting a loud, robotic voice reading financial data. "Now, come over here. I need your executive brain. I am currently trying to buy stocks on the Bamboo app, and it is a complete sensory nightmare." I abandoned my battle with the caramel and walked into the living room, holding her perfectly steamed sixty five degree oat milk latte. I sat down beside her, placing the cup in her waiting hands. She took a sip, let out a soft purr of appreciation, and then shoved her phone directly into my face. "Explain this to me," she demanded, pointing blindly at the screen. "What’s an exchange traded fund, and why does this app keep telling me I need to diversify my portfolio? I don't want to diversify. I want to buy shares in a company that makes those little plastic things at the end of shoelaces. I feel like that’s a steady market."

I stared at the screen. She had indeed opened the Bamboo platform, a popular retail investing app. "An exchange traded fund, or an ETF, is a basket of securities that trades on an exchange, June. It’s a way to buy a small piece of many companies at once. And please tell me you aren't actually planning to invest our household budget into the shoelace industry." "It’s my trust fund, Stone," she shot back, a smug grin spreading across her face as she leaned her shoulder against mine. "I can spend it on whatever high yield plastic accessories I want. Besides, I think it's very romantic of me to take an interest in your world. I'm practically a Wall Street mogul now." "A mogul who doesn't know what an ETF is," I murmured, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her closer. The warmth of her body, combined with the sweet scent of her vanilla perfume, made the chaotic state of the kitchen feel entirely irrelevant. "If you want to invest, let me build you a real portfolio. We can look at some stable, long term options."

"Boring!" she gasped, throwing her head back. "I want high stakes! I want high risk! I want the adrenaline of the market, Matias! Why do you think I married a billionaire? I thought we’d be doing insider trading by now!"

"We’re absolutely not doing insider trading," I said, kissing the top of her head. "But if you're good, I might let you choose the next shipping conglomerate we acquire."

"Deal," she said instantly, turning her head to press a quick, sticky kiss to my jaw. "But only if we rename all the cargo ships after opera heroines. I want to see a fifty ton steel vessel named the Madame Butterfly sailing into the Tokyo port."

I sighed, shaking my head. "My father would have an actual stroke."

"Then we'll make sure it's the biggest ship in the fleet," she laughed, her eyes bright and full of that wild, beautiful energy that I had come to completely rely on.

Juniper

If Matias thought our domestic chaos was limited to retail investing and syrup spills, he was sorely mistaken. "Juniper," his voice was dangerously calm from the foyer. I was currently sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging my legs and holding a massive plastic bowl of popcorn. Barney was sitting directly below me, staring up with intense, unblinking devotion, waiting for the inevitable popcorn drop.

"Yes, my darling husband?" I called out, pitching my voice to its most innocent, angelic register.

I heard his heavy, commanding footsteps stop at the edge of the kitchen. I could practically feel the silent, exasperated glare he was directing at me.

"Why is there a giant, inflatable bounce house currently being inflated on our balcony?" he asked, his voice flat. "Oh! It arrived!" I cheered, clapping my hands. "I was worried they’d have trouble with the freight elevator. Isn't it exciting?"

"Juniper," Matias said, stepping closer until he was standing right between my knees, his hands resting on the counter on either side of my thighs. The scent of him sharp and masculine, instantly surrounded me. "We live on the sixty fifth floor of a Tribeca penthouse. The wind shear alone on the balcony is enough to turn an inflatable bounce house into a very expensive, highly dangerous hang glider."

"I got the anchored one, Matias! It has sandbags!" I argued, leaning forward until my nose was practically touching his. "And besides, my vocal coach said I need to work on my core stability while maintaining my breath control. Jumping up and down while singing La Boheme is the ultimate training exercise. It's science."

"It is not science," he whispered, though I could hear the faint, helpless twitch of his lips against mine. He reached up, his fingers gently sliding my sunglasses down my nose so he could look into my eyes. "It’s a lawsuit waiting to happen."

"Then it's a good thing I married a man with a team of high priced corporate attorneys," I whispered back, my hands sliding into his hair, pulling him down until our lips met. The kiss was sweet, warm, and tasted faintly of the salty popcorn I had been eating. He let out a quiet, rough sigh, his hands sliding up my thighs, pulling me closer against his chest until I was completely wrapped around him.

The cold, arrogant CEO of Stone Industries was completely at the mercy of a girl, a lazy dog, and a massive yellow rug. And as he lifted me off the counter, carrying me toward the balcony to "inspect the safety parameters" of my new training facility, I knew that no matter how loud, chaotic, or completely ridiculous our lives became, we were never going to let the quiet back in.