Page 46 of A Win-Win Situation
She nods, her expression a mix of gratitude and nervousness.
"Thank you," her voice is soft as she steps deeper into the room.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" I ask, genuinely wanting to make her feel at ease in my—our—home.
Leora shakes her head, her eyes avoiding mine. "No, I'm fine," her voice is barely above a whisper. "Thank you for showing me around."
I give her a small, reassuring smile. "All right then. How about you settle in," I say, gesturing toward the room with a nod. "If you need anything, just let me know."
Leora nods in agreement and begins unpacking her suitcase. With that, I leave the guest bedroom and head toward my room to shower and change out of this suit.
I spend more time than I intended in the shower, lost in thought as I try to devise plans for Leora and I. Other than the various business events and dinners, we'll need to be seen together in public, so we could go on a few "dates" to places where we might be spotted.
The idea of taking Leora to Paris for a weekend crosses my mind. That’s something people in love would do, right? I always hear about how going to Paris is so romantic. Which means it will be great for us, and I bet she would even be happy to visit. Isn’t Paris on every woman's bucket list?
The wedding day stretched on longer than intended. As it's almost six o’clock, I quickly change into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Grabbing my laptop, I settle down on the sofa to go through some emails. However, my eyes keep returning to Leora’s closed door.
She’s probably getting settled in. As new as having a roommate is for me, it will be even more of an adjustment for her. Not only does she now have a husband, but she also moved to another country and into someone else’s home. I sigh and try to return to my emails, noticing one from Michel Beaumont.
A cold rush goes through my body at the sight of his name. I hate that man.
Dear Mr. Ayoub,
I hope this email finds you well. I want to extend my congratulations to you and your new wife, on your recent nuptials. Although, its last-minute nature did come as a surprise to many of us.
Unfortunately, I was unable to attend the hastily-arranged wedding reception hosted by your uncle.
Nevertheless, I would like to extend an invitation to you and your wife to join us for brunch on Monday at 11:30 a.m.
We would be honored to have you both as our guests.
Best Regards,
Michel Beaumont
Fuck me.
As if it couldn’t get any worse, now I’m going to have to spend a day with a bunch of stuck-up men, including Michel. I’m going to have to answer his email, pretend to be delighted and accept the invitation on our behalf.
This might turn out to be a shit show because we still have so much to discuss and decide. However, there's also a chance it could work in our favor. If I know Michel well enough, he will have invited a few more stakeholders, and if I read the email correctly, he’s doing this to prove a point. Meaning we'll have to put on such a convincing show of being in love so that he will have to eat his words.
I try to compose my response, carefully choosing my words to convey gratitude and enthusiasm.All lies.I express our delight at the invitation and accept it graciously on behalf of Leora and myself. I make sure to mention our upcoming honeymoon we will be taking after the hotel opening, hoping it will add an air of authenticity to our situation.
It's time to show Michel, and everyone else, that Leora and I are a united front, regardless of the initial doubts we garnered. Hopefully, it will make them back off.
I knock gently on Leora's door, not wanting to disturb her too much. "Leora?"
"What?" Her muffled voice reaches me through the closed door.
I enter the room and find her sitting on the bed with her phone in her hand. She's changed into a cute pair of white pajamas with red cherries, showcasing her toned legs. I can't deny that I find it attractive—any man would.
Any man. The mere thought of another man looking at her now that she has my ring on her finger unsettles me. It's irrational, considering our unconventional situation, but the idea of anyone else showing interest in her bothers me. She may not truly be mine, but to the outside world, she is. Still, the question lingers, why does the notion of another man looking at her bother me? I shouldn’t care, yet something inside me does.
I quickly shake off the thought and refocus on her, reminding myself that we have important matters to discuss.
"I didn't say come in," she says sharply.
"You didn't saynotto come in either."
