The Accidental Marriage: Chapter 14

I blink, coming awake slowly. Every shade between white and black seems present in the room. Even the cool, silky sheet underneath me is a dove gray.

I’m still in the dress Doris got me. And from the way the sheets have the same smell as Ares, I’m in his bed.

Just what happened yesterday? I was so hungry after we got home, and I didn’t want to deal with that aunt of his, who seemed so suspicious of me. She obviously thinks I’m after his money—he probably didn’t tell her I agreed to the additional marriage vow of not taking his shit. Or maybe she’s too lawyerly to accept that.

When Ares got distracted, I took his water and plate—subtly, of course, and naturally, like I mistook his for mine—then found a small reading room and ate.

Once my belly was full, all the tension slowly seeped out. After all, I wasn’t just married, but actually away from Doris and her family’s power. It would take time to find me, and even if they did, I was certain they couldn’t just barge into Ares’s home and try to steal me away. And they couldn’t force Ares to give me up to them.

I’m safe. The two words rang in my head as I looked up at the snarling wolves over PIETAS ET UNITAS. Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I gave in to it, truly relaxing for the first time. I probably fell asleep and didn’t notice anything when Ares brought me to his bedroom.

What time is it?

I check the clock by the night stand. It reads twelve past ten a.m. I overslept.

Where’s Ares?

I get up and listen for a moment. The mansion is eerily silent. Part of me wants to snoop. It’s a habit I developed early, to scout my surroundings just in case I needed to make a quick escape.

But that would be rude here. And unnecessary. I’m sure I can ask Ares to show me around later.

Since I’m itching to get out of the uncomfortable wedding gown, I step into the walk-in closet, hoping to find something to put on. A light comes on, and in the ivory center island is a gorgeous glass case with bright spotlights over it. I step closer, curious what’s inside. Jewels? A collection of fancy watches?

Nope. Over the soft crimson velvet lies a long cane. Pietas et unitas is etched in fancy silver filigree. A silver wolf’s head sits on the top, where you’d wrap your hand. The name Ares Joseph Huxley is engraved on the latch of the case. Must be some significant family item, on par with an irreplaceable heirloom. Ares must prize it, too, for it to take such a prominent place.

I look at it for a while, my heart beating a little too fast and funny, my mouth bone dry. The wolf’s head faces me, its eyes and fangs furious, as though it’d bite my neck. I shake my head. Probably just thirst making me feel off. My throat is parched.

I tear my gaze from the cane and look around. Suits, suits, dress shirts, shiny men’s shoes and…some expensive-looking watches. I don’t think there’s anything I can wear, even temporarily.

I head to the kitchen, hoping there’s more of the bottled water. After water, I’ll get a lawyer. No, actually, fresh sets of clothes and shoes first, then a lawyer.

On the kitchen counter is a bottle of water and a small, sealed package of cereal. I pour it into my mouth dry, then read a yellow sticky note on the granite. Ares’s handwriting is surprisingly neat. I thought a lawyer would have crappy handwriting because he’d have a secretary to write his memos and so on.

Left you some food. Hope it’s suitable. It’s in a sealed package. I noticed you seem okay with food and drinks that are factory sealed.

I blink, surprised and touched that Ares noticed and cared enough to leave me something I can eat. I was planning on either not eating anything until he came home or going to a restaurant and asking the server to taste my food for me first.

The rest of the note reads:

A newly activated phone, since you don’t seem to have one. (If I’m wrong, just ignore it.) Your passport is in the upper drawer of the nightstand on your side of the bed. Clothes and shoes in the living room. Try them on, keep what you like and set aside what you don’t. The personal shopper will come collect what you don’t want next weekend. Take the credit card and buy us new wedding rings, since my family will want to meet you soon. At work now. If you need anything, text me. My number’s already in your phone.

Huh, so he noticed I’m phoneless. Thanks to Doris, I’ve gone without for over fifteen years.

Is this part of being “indifferent”? I thought he wouldn’t notice—or care even if he did.

I pick up the sleek teal phone, already in a case and with a clear protective cover on the screen. My heart flutters at finally having a tool in my hand that can help me connect with the world. The credit card he mentioned is a black American Express. I run my index finger over his name: Ares Huxley. My husband. The thought sends a warm ripple through me.

I know Ares asked me to text him if I need anything, but I have to text him my gratitude now. If he questions me, I’ll tell him I needed to say, “Thank you.” Besides, being polite isn’t clingy. It’s respectful, which is one of his requirements for our marriage.

–Me: Thank you so much! I love the phone and breakfast! You’re amazing!

I stare at the screen for five heartbeats. He doesn’t respond. Probably busy. And if he’s in the office, so is Jeremiah.

I, on the other hand, am alone in this big house. Nobody to hover over me, watch me, report my every move or try to force me or manipulate me. Even the air is lighter and more wonderful in Ares’s house.

For six months, this could be mine, as long as I toe the line. He wants me kept busy with a life of my own. Probably doing something that doesn’t overlap with his in any way, shape or form. Easy. I’ll just paint for the next six months, since it isn’t like I can put together a résumé and start a job anytime soon. I don’t even know how to drive, so it’ll be best to do something that doesn’t require commuting.

And what else did he want…? Caring without being nosy or controlling. Based on his tone, he seemed to value the boundaries more than the caring, so when in doubt, pull back.

Dinners can be arranged… But who’s going to prepare them? If I’m supposed to be busy with a life of my own, I can’t be expected to cook, right? I’ll ask him, but takeout or eating out might be best. Actually, takeout or delivery, because he might get weird about my need to swap plates. When I was in Nesovia surrounded by household staff who treated me like dirt—not realizing that the money that paid their salaries came from me—I stole their food without a twinge of guilt or awkwardness, since I didn’t give a damn what they thought. But I care about Ares’s opinion of me.

Anyway, no annual vacations, since I’m not going to be around for a year. He didn’t even sound enthused about the divorce-cation. No kids, obviously. That’s for him and some subsequent real wife. But oddly enough, the idea pierces my heart like a needle, making it ache.

I don’t understand. Why do I care? Ares is a super-nice guy, but he’s only going to take up a short chapter in my life. Given how he told me I don’t offer any of the things he needs in a wife, I need to make sure I don’t get too attached. Even if he’s going to be my first. It’s only logical I want my first time to be with a man I find attractive and who is good at sex. And squirmy salamanders are the last thing on my mind when Ares kisses me.

I take my time finishing the cereal, then head to the living room. Ares has a beautiful, albeit boring, home. Didn’t anybody tell him he can have colors other than white, black and gray? Despite large windows and skylights to take advantage of the California sun, the dreary color scheme makes the place feel as cool and austere as a monastery. At least the leather chairs look plush and expensive, but also exude an air of don’t even imagine parking your unworthy ass on us. Actually, everything in his house has an aura of look, but don’t touch.

Probably not intentional. Just look at all the beautiful red, pink and purple blossoms in the garden surrounding the house. I glance down at my phone, at the pretty teal.

The sunken living room is enormous, with four sectionals and two fireplaces. In the center is a huge pile of boxes. Next to them are multiple clothes racks, where hundreds of dresses, shirts and pants hang. Are they what Ares referred to as “clothes and shoes” for me?

I thought he ordered a couple of T-shirts and shorts and shoes, not cleared out a department store. Granted, I came here without anything but the clothes on my back, so I need more than most people. But…this is going overboard.

Shaking my head, I rummage through the boxes and find a pair of super-comfy flats in blue, then pick out a pink baby-tee and denim shorts. Ooh, a cute tote in lavender! And a wallet! I pull out a few pretty pieces of lingerie. I’ve never owned anything this fancy before. Doris might’ve spent money to put me in a “nice enough” dress to avoid speculation and gossip, but she always bought the cheapest and ugliest underwear for me, since nobody was going to see it.

I pull out a silky emerald gown and a cute red dress with spaghetti straps, then change my mind about the latter. The back is too low, and it’ll show the scar. I select a burgundy dress that stops an inch above my knees with decent back coverage in case Ares and I need to put on something a bit more formal.

As I walk by the kitchen with my new clothes, shoes and so on, I pick up a pair of shears. Then I stride past Ares’s bedroom and choose a guest bedroom two doors down. It has a fully stocked en-suite bathroom with fresh towels and toiletries. I hang my new stuff in the empty walk-in closet, then gleefully proceed to cut the wedding gown Doris chose for me into ribbons.

Buh-bye, past! Don’t let the door slam you in the face, Doris! You either, Rupert and Vernon! Actually, I hope it hits you and breaks all your noses! I won’t be paying for your rhinoplasty! Whee!

The tatters of the dress lie at my feet. I kick them away, then decide to keep kicking, just because I can. Ah! Doesn’t that feel great!

Finally free of the godawful dress, I shower using the orange-scented soap and shampoo, and put on the clothes I’ve selected. Although I’m in a simple shirt and shorts, the pretty underwear makes me feel sexy. And only the Chosen One will be able to see what’s underneath.

I smile saucily at my reflection in the huge mirror in the closet, then shove the black card into my wallet. Time to busy myself shopping for rings like Ares wanted. Except…he didn’t tell me how to get to a mall or anything.

–Me: How should I get to the jewelry store and get the rings?

–Ares: Take the Maserati in the garage.

–Me: Not a good idea. I don’t know how to drive.

There is a pause.

–Ares: You don’t?

–Me: My aunt didn’t even let me wear shoes in case I’d run. She wasn’t going to teach me how to drive.

Another pause.

–Ares: All right. A driver will pick you up in an hour.

–Me: Thank you.

I wait, but there’s nothing more. Is he already back at work? And would thanking him be against the respectful indifference code?

I reread his last text, brow furrowed. Ares, Ares, Ares… It’s like a heartbeat as I tap the corner of the phone. I don’t like the name. He deserves something more fitting.

I change his name on my phone to “My Knight” and save it with a smile.

Exactly one hour later, a black limo stops in front of the main entrance. Wow. Fancy. I thought Ares would send me a yellow cab, like you see in the movies.

The uniformed driver opens the back door with a smile. He looks to be in his fifties, with warm brown eyes and a lot of smile lines. “Where to, Mrs. Huxley?”

I stare at him blankly for a moment before realizing. It’s a bit startling to be called that, when all my life I’ve been called Ms. Hayworth. “What’s the best high-end jewelry store? I need something that’ll impress my in-laws,” I say.

“Sebastian Jewelry or Peery Diamonds. You can’t go wrong with either. Masako Hayashi also does some great custom work.”

“Peery Diamonds.” I feel like I should stick with a girl from my own country. Lucienne Peery was one of the most high-profile heiresses in Nesovia. She left and married an American billionaire. It made the news back home, and every celeb gossip rag talked about it with breathless titillation and derision. They seemed unhappy nobody was invited to the ceremony, and even less happy that she moved to the States to be with her husband when she should’ve stayed in Nesovia and contributed to the country’s economy.

Why should she, though? The country treated her like shit. They treat all women with money like trash. I won’t go back once I take over my trust. I’m not sure where I’ll settle down. Ares might object to my staying in L.A. after our divorce, so I should look around.

I add that to my mental list of tasks. Freedom is great, but it also comes with a lot of things to do.

Peery Diamonds turns out to be housed on the first floor of a massive gray and white stone building. Every window is spotless and showcases gorgeous gemstones sparkling on dark, cushy velvet. A diamond and sapphire set catches my eye. The design is too classic for my taste, but the sapphire’s precise shade of blue exactly matches Ares’s eyes. Plus the sapphire is enormous, twice the size of a quail’s egg.

Want, I think, but shake my head. Ares needs me to get wedding bands, not other stuff at Peery Diamonds.

I step inside the store, my flats hitting the immaculate marble floor. A Mozart violin sonata floats in the air, elegant and tasteful. The air smells of a subtle fragrance that’s both opulent and calming, the kind of scent you’d expect at a high-end retail location.

Just being inside soothes your senses and makes you feel like a VIP. No wonder Parker acted like she was all that every time she went to buy jewelry from Peery Diamonds, then pitied me for having never been despite all my wealth. Where she got the chutzpah to brag when it was my money that paid for her excesses is beyond me.

Bitch. If I run into her again, I’ll tell her exactly how I feel, but with extra smugness, since she’ll be completely cut off from my money. The second I get a hold of my fortune, I’m evicting Doris and her family from my home. Then I’ll charge them for all the things they’ve stolen from me. They pretend to be innocent, but I know they’ve been selling the antiques my parents collected. Assholes.

A brown-haired clerk in a crisp black-and-white suit comes over. “May I help you, ma’am?” He flashes a clean-cut smile that is polite without being overly friendly.

I glance at the nametag. “Yes, Jasper. I need wedding bands. Ideally with sapphires like the ones there.” I gesture at the set I admired earlier. “But obviously the stones can’t be so large.”

He smiles. “I understand.” He’s started to lead me to a massive display behind him when I see a tall blonde coming out of one of the private rooms. Despite her height, she’s in high heels that make her tower over the male managers, and a ruby anklet draws eyes to her slim ankle.

Lucienne Peery—Lucienne Lasker now. I haven’t seen her in about five years, but she looks great. Confident and in charge. But then, she got married and took over her family empire. Her husband, from what I read, doesn’t interfere in her business or financial decisions. Freedom does that to you.

“Lucie,” I say.

She stops, then turns to me. Her eyes narrow for a moment, then widen with recognition. “Lareina Hayworth?”

I grin. “The one and only.”

“Oh my God! What are you doing here?”

She puts gentle hands on my shoulders, then slides them down my arms as though to confirm I’m real. Although we didn’t spend a ton of time together, the horrible restrictions on young heiresses in Nesovia tended to make us feel a certain type of bond.

“How…?” She still looks stunned. “Last I heard, you were too sick to travel. You had to be in Nesovia to recuperate.”

“That’s what my aunt told everyone.” I shrug. “But as you can see, I’m not sick. Or in Nesovia.”

“You should’ve texted that you were here in L.A. I was worried when you were carried out like that.” Lucie was present during the last overdosing incident. Doris acted out of impatience and went too far. Although I’d been vigilant, I didn’t realize she’d resort to bribing the kitchen staff at the restaurant. I collapsed after taking three bites of steak. The only person who hurried over to check on me was Lucie, who happened to be dining there as well. And she called for the ambulance, while everyone else just stood around and watched.

After that, I quit eating out unless somebody else took a bite and made sure it was safe. It doesn’t matter that the chances of Doris tampering with my food are one in a million. It’s now more psychological than rational. And I doubt therapy will fix it. The phobia is now as instinctive as a fear of spiders or snakes.

“It was just some minor food poisoning,” I say breezily. No point in getting into the gruesome details. They’d only distress her, as someone who was in a similar situation—although as far as I know, her family didn’t try to slow-poison her.

“What are you doing here? What brings you to L.A.?” she says as she leads me to a private room and has me sit with her on a soft leather couch.

“Shopping for rings for me and my husband.” I show her the cheap ring on my finger. “Can’t wear this, can I?”

Lucie lets out a horrified gasp. “No, most definitely not. Where did you even find that? It looks like stainless steel.”

“Seriously?” I examine the band more closely. “The guy selling it swore it was white gold.”

She snorts. “And I’m a unicorn.”

I laugh. “Well. It wasn’t that expensive.”

“Better not have been. They’d have to pay me to wear it.”

“You have an image to maintain as a jewelry mogul.” My gaze drops to her ring. It’s made with a gorgeous sapphire and a diamond, encircled by tiny diamonds. “Like that. Very unique.”

She smiles. “I know, right? My husband’s design.” Her gaze softens, and all of a sudden, she’s just a girl in love.

I envy her. What wouldn’t I give to find a man who’d love me unconditionally and support me? Sebastian Lasker is a wealthy man with his own career and interest, and has no desire for anything of hers except her heart. The story of their marriage was one of the most sensational news items in Nesovia for a while, especially since both Lucie and her husband are young and beautiful. And there was a Hollywood glitz angle, since her husband is the son of a famous Hollywood movie producer.

“How romantic.” I exhale softly.

“You can do something similar.”

“As much as I’d love to have something custom-made, I don’t have the time to wait. Who knows when I’m meeting his family?”

She lets out a wistful sigh. Guess she can’t understand the point of giving up an occasion for pretty jewelry. “You could go ahead and order a set, and then we could give you one to wear until the order is completed.”

A great idea, but Ares and I won’t be married for more than a few months, so it seems like too much effort. “It’s fine. Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” She stares at me for a moment, then lowers her voice. “Is this a marriage of convenience?”

“More or less. My step-cousin was desperate to marry me, and I basically had no choice.”

“Rupert, right? Rupert Fage?”

“Yeah.”

Lucie narrows her eyes. “Never liked that guy. Always so…” She thinks for a moment. “It’s like he has dollar signs in his eyes.”

“Like in a cartoon,” I say, snapping my fingers and laughing.

“Exactly! Besides, doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”

“Yes. Parker Jacoby. She was willing to let Rupert marry me so he could ‘take care of’ my finances. Apparently, the plan was to divorce me and marry her once he got all my money.”

Lucie laughs derisively. “The things women like her dream about.”

“I know, right?”

Jasper brings in a tray of bands, placing it discreetly on the table in front of us. I sweep my gaze over them until I see a set of platinum bands with three beautiful sapphires. I pick one up and scrutinize the stones under the light. They’re the exact shade of Ares’s eyes.

I smile. “This,” I say to Jasper.

He nods politely.

“Good choice,” Lucie says. “You always did have great taste.”

“Got it from Mom. I miss her so much.”

“She was a great woman. I adore her paintings.”

I nod, wishing my parents were alive. Then I wouldn’t have been abused by Doris or her shitty family.

“By the way, do you have a lawyer?” Lucie asks. “Or do you need a referral?”

“I don’t have one yet. But I’m going to need one. I just married Ares Huxley on Saturday.”

Lucie gasps. “Really?”

“Yes. Why?” I ask warily.

“I didn’t realize he was the marrying type. He has a rep.”

“For…?”

“Being peculiar. I hate to be uncharitable, because he’s one of my brothers-in-law’s cousins, but I also don’t want you to get blindsided. There’s a chance he’ll recognize you’re wonderful and fall in love, but there’s a greater chance he won’t.” She takes my hand and pats it. “He apparently can’t stay in a relationship for more than a few months. Whenever the woman falls in love, he ends it. Doesn’t matter how much she begs and pleads. He’s done.”

“Ah…” I let out a noncommittal sound as I connect the dots. Ares was specific about the kind of relationship he wanted, and obviously a woman being in love with him is the opposite of respectful indifference. I just didn’t realize he was dedicated to that sort of future, to the point that he’d drop girlfriends. Based on what he said, I thought it only applied to marriage.

Note to self: Never fall in love with this man. If I do within the six months, he’ll divorce me before I have the chance to wrap up everything with the trust. And if I do afterward… Well, I’ll be the loser, since he’ll break my heart.

“It’s transactional,” I say placidly. “There’s no chance of love or losing my head over him.”

She gazes at me for a moment. “I see. Well, good. Anyway, since he’s your husband, I can’t recommend Jeremiah Huxley. It might be a little weird or even awkward.”

“Wait, she’s your lawyer?”

Lucie nods. “Yes, and I love her. But there are other good lawyers around. Like John Highsmith. He’s fantastic, and one of the few who can make sure you don’t get screwed, not even by the likes of Huxley & Webber.” She pulls out her phone. “Let me make a call for you. And give me your number so we can keep in touch.”