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This is just another modeling job, I told myself as I opened the box. Just gush like you’re doing an ad for Tiffany’s. Hell, maybe I’d land something with them next. This could be my audition.

Laid out inside was a dazzling diamond and yellow stone-studded choker, earrings, and bracelet.

I knew this jewelry. It was his mother’s topaz collection. It was worth a small fortune to the tune of one point two million dollars.

It was not a gift but a loan. I knew this because our prenup was quite detailed about such things. If or when we divorced, I would not be keeping any of the family jewelry, regardless of how publicly he gifted it to me.

I took all of this in in mere seconds, and then let out the appropriate response, gasping loudly, my free hand flying to my throat. My excited eyes flew up to his, and I smiled with as much fake joy as I could muster. “Oh my God, Calder! They’re beautiful. You shouldn’t have.”

“Of course I should have,” he said with a charming smile. His eyes were on me, but I knew our audience had his full attention. I was a less significant accessory to him than this jewelry, though at least I could reassure myself that after our wedding night I was worth considerably more. “It’s our one month anniversary. Didn’t you realize?”

I had not. Was that why he was taking me out? It must’ve been, but I couldn’t imagine him flying into town just for that. Not after a month of no contact.

I recovered from my surprise quickly. “Of course!” I said with loud enthusiasm. “How could I ever forget such a monumental milestone?”

He smiled, and it was a bit crooked, only one corner of his mouth quirking up. It was less perfect than his usual straight, polished, fraudulent smile.

I’d genuinely amused him with that over the top bit of nonsense, I realized.

Why did that make my chest warm with pleasure?

“On every one month anniversary I’m going to drape you in new jewels, wife.”

“You spoil me, husband.”

“Happily.”

When it came to backstage model antics, I’d always been one of the quiet ones. I didn’t cause a lot of drama, or make a lot of waves. I tended to keep to myself. I saw it as a job that I wanted to retain, so I tried to be professional, always. I was friendly with the girls who weren’t terrible, though I’d never made any close friends in the business. I had too hard of a time opening up and being vulnerable to let anyone close, so I tended to come across a touch distant or even cold. It was a defense mechanism, but it had never won me any popularity contests.

Becoming Mrs. Castelo had shifted all of that in a subtle way. I received more attention now in general, both good and bad. Opportunism battled with jealousy for what I ran into more often. There was a different winner from one day to the next.

Jealousy was definitely going to win this day, I saw as my eyes swept over the crowd on my way out of the large, crowded room.

Calder had me pulled close against him, his arm around my waist possessively.

I smiled in as friendly a way as I could muster at every single pair of eyes that met mine.

Who could guess how long this sham of a marriage would last? I didn’t know any of the other women well, but I didn’t want to be a social pariah when all was said and done.

I was ushered swiftly from the backstage to a car. It was my usual Benz, Vincent driving, Chester working security.

Silence reigned on the way to dinner. It wasn’t a comfortable silence. It was awkward with the knowledge that I didn’t know the first thing about so much as attempting to interact even casually with my husband.

And he didn’t touch me once we were closed inside of the vehicle. In fact he sat as far away from me as the backseat would allow.

Why did I feel a sharp pang of disappointment about that? The feeling was followed swiftly by irritation with myself. Foolish girl.

“When did you arrive in New York?” I asked him, my tone polite and impersonal.

He didn’t spare me a glance, his gaze trained out the window.

“Not important,” he said, his tone steeped in finality.

Chester glanced back briefly from the passenger seat to give me a sympathetic frown.

That was my first and last attempt at conversation in the car.

We arrived at Beautique in Midtown. I’d never been there, but I’d heard of it. It was a notorious hotspot for celeb sightings. I wasn’t surprised. Our entire evening together was obviously for publicity.