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“When?” He steps even closer, his head tilted down to look at me. “If we’re going to be husband and wife, we shouldn’t keep secrets, Stella.”
“You’re not entitled to know about my sex life when I’m not sleeping with you.” I give him my best kiss my ass facial expression and it only makes him angry again.
“I am absolutely entitled to know about your sex life because you are going to be my wife.” He reaches for my chin but I dodge his hand. His eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as he snakes his hand behind my neck and tugs me toward him. “You agreed to the expectations in the contract and what we spoke about earlier regarding honesty and trust—maybe this can be your first exercise in being an obedient wife. Just because this pink cock is fucking you instead of me doesn’t mean that you get to hide anything from me.”
“And my masturbation habits fall under that umbrella?” I offer sarcastically. “Should I keep a log for you?”
“That can be a requirement. I’d like to know my wife is being satisfied regularly.”
“And I didn’t agree to obey you; that will not be in our vows.” I point my finger toward him.
His grip on my neck softens, his thumb beginning to rub back and forth against my skin. The way my body starts to respond under his touch is pissing me off, but I can’t deny the underlying tension between us that seems to be growing thicker by the second.
“Oh, but you did agree to obey me.” His smile is almost sinister. “You really might want to read over that contract you signed, sweetheart. It’s going to make this year much easier if you do.”
“Fine,” I say, looking up at him. “Earlier, right before you got here.” He’s confused so I elaborate. “I actually came right as you were knocking.” His thumb stills. I watch the regret pass over his face slowly when he realizes that two can play at this game. “And when you walk out that door, I’m going to do it again.” I smile, snatching the toy from his hand. “Looks like I won the battle.” I step back, putting space between us so he can’t grab it back from me.
“Maybe.” He rubs his jaw for a second and chuckles like he can’t believe I bested him. “But I won the war. Trust me.” He winks at me, stepping around me to head toward the front door. “And Stella, when you come over tomorrow”—his head is turned just enough I can see his profile—“plan on staying the night.”
The second the door closes, my hands shoot upward into the air in celebration. “Stop it,” I remind myself, pulling them right back down. “It’s just for appearances.” I repeat Atlas’ words back to myself, still a little giddy from the flirty but very confusing exchange we just had. My phone rings. I lean over to grab it, seeing Clyde’s name on the screen, my stomach instantly dropping.
I stare at the screen, my thumb hovering over the answer button but instead, I hit ignore… again. This is the fourth call from him that I’ve ignored. The knot of guilt in my stomach feels like it’s taking over. I don’t know what to tell him. I convinced him and the guys to come back, promising I’d be there, then I got fired. I feel like a failure but even more, I don’t want to have to also lie to Clyde about everything.
I curl up on my couch, guilt and sadness eating at me. The one thing I’m looking forward to in all this is living with Atlas. It feels like the loneliness of my apartment is getting to me. I close my eyes, feeling tired enough from the glass of wine to take a nap or maybe it’s everything else I have going on. I inhale, reminding myself that all of this is for a reason. Once I have the money and can buy the club, everyone will understand.
“And this”—Atlas turns the handle on the large mahogany door—“will be your room.” I follow him into the room, my eyes shooting upward at the vaulted ceilings. It’s dark, the walls painted a deep maroon. It’s stunning but almost coffin-like.
“Oh.” I look to my right and see a massive four-poster king-sized bed but it’s through another doorway. “That’s a second room?” I point as I walk toward it.
“This first part is more of a sitting room, and then the second room is the bedroom with an en suite.”
He stands in the middle of the room watching me as I take it all in. He looks incredible, his perfectly disheveled hair that almost looks styled that way hangs slightly over one blue eye. He’s wearing all black today, his beard at least two days old.
“What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful.” The windows are massive, the light streaming in illuminating the room.
“Feel free to do whatever you want to it. I’m happy to hire painters; you can paint it any color you want. If you want new furniture, that can be ordered.”
“What about my own furniture?” I turn to look back at him. “Where will that end up?”
“In storage on the property here.”
I nod, stepping farther into the room. I walk around the bed, running my hand over the stunning stark white bedspread that looks like a cloud. When I reach the bathroom, I flick on the light. A giant mirror in an ornate gold frame is centered over a double vanity. I look to the right, a walk-in shower you could fit a car into on one side, a custom claw-foot tub that looks deeper and wider than normal on the other.
“You could fit a football team in here.” My voice echoes a little off the marble of the shower wall.
“Please don’t.” I turn, half-startled, to see Atlas leaning his shoulder casually against the doorway. “I’d hate to have to dream up a punishment that large.” There’s an edge to his voice and slight glint to his eye. It’s the same look he had last night at my house. It’s almost like he’s wearing a disguise but every once in a while, his true self peeks out.
“No plans.” I rub my hand up and down my arm, goosebumps pricking my skin at the way he’s looking at me. “It will only ever be just me and Ken.”
“Who the fuck is Ken?” His voice booms around me.
“My vibrator.” I scowl, half covering my ears. “His name is Ken. Relax.”
“Why Ken?”
“Because he’s plastic like Ken.” He stares at me blankly. “Like Ken from Barbie and Ken.”
