My Flash Husband Is My Boss

Chapter 6

Daniel Carter is downstairs.

The man who cheated on me with my cousin on the eve of my wedding is now in the lobby of my billionaire husband's penthouse building, causing a scene.

My hands started shaking.

Seth's face turned to ice. The soft husband from five seconds ago was gone. The CEO was back.

"How did he find us?" I whispered.

"My mother," Seth said, voice cold. "She must have told someone. Or Daniel's father. He is a small investor, he has access to the building list."

He pressed the intercom.

"Security, this is Vega. Do not let him up. Do not let him leave. Hold him in the lobby. I am coming down."

He looked at me.

"Elise, you stay here. Put on the dress. I will handle Daniel."

"No," I grabbed his arm. "I don't want to see him. But I don't want you to hurt him. Just make him leave."

Seth looked down at my hand on his arm.

"You still care about him?" he asked, quiet, with an edge.

"No. I don't care about him. I care about not causing a scene that the press will see. Your mother said press might be at dinner tonight. If they find out Daniel is here, they will write that Mrs. Vega's ex fiance begged her back at Vega Tower. It will be messy."

Seth stared, then nodded.

"Smart, wife. You are learning to think like a Vega."

He kissed my forehead, quick, possessive.

"Stay here. Wear the red dress. I will be back in ten minutes. Then we go to La Grenouille."

He left. The elevator closed, taking him down to face my past.

I was left alone with two Parisian women.

"Mrs. Vega," said the stylist Colette, holding up the red silk dress. "We must get you ready. Dinner is at 8 PM. It is 6 PM now. We have two hours."

The next hour was a blur.

Colette stripped me of my H and M blazer. She made me stand in front of a full length mirror.

The red dress was obscene. In a good way. Silk so soft it felt like water. Slit up to my thigh. Backless, so low my back was bare. No bra possible.

"You have a beautiful body, Mrs. Vega," Colette said, zipping it up. "You have been hiding it under cheap clothes."

The etiquette coach Madame Dubois was stricter.

"Chin up, Elise. Shoulders back. Walk like you own Manhattan, because your husband does. When Isabella insults you, you smile. Vega women never show they are hurt."

They curled my hair into soft waves. They put makeup that made my eyes bigger, lips redder, matching the dress. They put diamond earrings on me that Seth's mother sent, real diamonds.

When I looked in the mirror, I did not recognize myself.

I was not Elise Monroe from Queens who ate instant noodles.

I was Elise Vega, wife of Seth Vega, in a ten thousand dollar red dress, wearing his grandmother's ring and diamonds that cost more than my parents' house.

"Oh my god," I whispered.

The elevator dinged.

Seth was back.

He walked out, still in his Tom Ford suit, tie slightly loosened, like he had scared someone badly.

He stopped dead when he saw me.

His mouth opened a little. His eyes went dark, traveling from my face to my lips to the red silk hugging my chest to the slit showing my leg to my bare back.

"Elise," he said, voice rough.

Colette and Madame Dubois smiled and quickly left, closing the bedroom door.

"You... you look..." Seth walked towards me slowly. "You look like you were made to wear that dress, wife."

"Daniel Carter?" I asked, self conscious under his stare. "What happened downstairs?"

"Daniel is gone," he said, stopping right in front of me. Red silk brushing his suit. "I told him you are my wife now. That if he ever comes near you again, if he contacts you or your parents, I will make sure his father loses his investor status and his whole family loses everything in New York. He cried. Like a boy."

He said it casually, like destroying a family was just another Tuesday.

"You are shaking," he whispered, touching my bare shoulder.

"I'm scared," I admitted. "Of tonight. Of Isabella. Of this dress. I have never worn anything like this."

"You don't have to be a Vega wife tonight," he said, hand sliding to my neck, tilting my chin up. "You just have to be my wife. My Elise. The girl who married a stranger in a bar because she was brave enough to not waste her wedding dress."

He leaned down and kissed me. Soft at first, then deeper when I didn't push him away. His hands careful not to wrinkle the silk, but possessive on my bare back.

When we broke apart, my red lipstick was smudged on his mouth.

"Now you look like a man who has been kissed by his wife," I whispered, wiping it.

"Now I look like a man who is late to dinner because his wife is too beautiful in red," he said, eyes dark.

He took my hand, with the heirloom ring shining, and led me to the elevator.

La Grenouille was exactly like the movies. Small, intimate, French, white tablecloths, waiters in black suits. One dinner costs two thousand dollars.

Mrs. Eleanor Vega was already there, at a round table in the back. With her was an old man, Mr. Laurent, and a young woman.

Isabella Laurent.

She was everything I was not. Tall, blonde, perfect, thin like a model, wearing a white Dior dress that probably cost twenty thousand dollars. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, diamonds bigger than mine.

And she looked at me when we walked in, holding Seth's hand in my red dress, and her perfect smile froze.

"Seth, darling," she said, standing up, French accent, sweet but sharp. She kissed Seth on both cheeks, ignoring me. "I missed you in Paris."

"Work," Seth said, hand tightening on mine. "Isabella, this is my wife, Elise Vega. Elise, this is Isabella Laurent."

Isabella finally looked at me. Up and down. From my red dress to my ring.

"Elise," she said, smile not reaching eyes. "How interesting. I heard Seth married a Junior Architect from Queens. I thought it was a rumor. But you are real. In red. How brave to wear red to a French dinner. Red is so... American. So loud."

It was an insult wrapped in a compliment.

Mrs. Vega watched us, sipping wine, saying nothing. Testing me.

I felt my old self wanting to hide, to apologize.

But I remembered Madame Dubois. Vega women never show they are hurt.

I smiled, chin up, shoulders back.

"Isabella, how kind of you to notice," I said, voice clear, steady, though knees shaking. "Red is my husband's favorite color. He picked this dress himself. He said it reminded him of the night we met. I was in a white wedding dress then, but he said I look better in red. As his wife."

Seth's hand squeezed mine under the table, hard, proud.

Isabella's smile cracked.

"How romantic," she said, tighter now. "A white wedding dress at midnight in a hotel lobby. I heard the story from Eleanor. So spontaneous. So unlike Seth. Seth has always been so careful, so private."

"Sometimes the best plans are the ones you don't plan, Isabella," I said, holding Seth's hand tighter. "Like your father's merger plan with Vega Corp. Sometimes plans change."

Mr. Laurent choked on his wine. Mrs. Vega smiled a little.

Isabella's eyes flashed with pure hatred.

"You are very confident for a girl who was working at a bakery last week," she hissed, low.

"And you are very confident for a girl who thought she would be Mrs. Vega by buying a merger," I shot back.

Silence at the table.

Then Seth laughed. Loud, real, delighted.

"My wife," he said, pulling my chair closer, arm around my bare back, possessive, in front of everyone. "My wife has a spine."

Isabella stood up abruptly.

"Excuse me," she said, voice shaking. "I need to use the ladies room."

She walked away, heels clicking angrily.

Mrs. Vega watched her go, then looked at me, with a hint of approval.

"Good," she whispered, leaning forward. "You did not cry. You did not run. You fought back. My mother would have liked you, Elise from Queens."

She raised her wine glass.

"Welcome to the family, Mrs. Vega. You just made your first enemy in New York high society. Isabella will not forget this dinner. She will try to destroy you at the gala in seven days. And she will use your cousin Chloe and your ex Daniel to do it."

My blood turned cold.

"Chloe and Daniel? At the gala?" I whispered.

"Oh yes. I invited them. Both of them. As a couple. To show New York what kind of family you come from."

Seth's arm tightened around me, protective.

And at that exact moment, a flash went off outside the window.

A camera flash. Then another.

Press. The press Mrs. Vega had invited.

They were taking pictures of us through the window. Me in the red dress, Seth's arm around my bare back.

Tomorrow, our picture would be on every gossip site in New York.

Mrs. Vega looked out at the flashes, then back at me, smiling.

"Smile, Elise. You are officially Mrs. Vega now. And tomorrow the whole world will know that my son married a girl from Queens in a red dress who dared to insult Isabella Laurent. And Isabella will make sure you pay for it at the gala."