“It won’t be so bad,” he teases.
“I’ve lived in worse places, trust me,” I say. “It’s been…a journey.”
The air gets a bit heavy, and I see a flash of something in his gaze. Concern? About what I’ve just hinted at. But instead of pushing, he just softens his voice. “I’ll try to make it as comfortable as possible. But don't get any ideas about taking the main bedroom.”
His playful energy instantly lifts me. “Why not? I might like it better than the guest room.”
“No chance. That’s mine. You can have any room. But I’m keeping mine.”
“How desperate are you for the gallery?” I ask, lifting my eyebrow.
His jaw drops. “You wouldn’t.”
I wink. “I’ll decide when we get there.”
“Evil,” he murmurs.
I hide my smile, enjoying the way we’ve fallen into this. Almost like a game between friends.
On the plane, I settle into my seat, more relaxed this time. The same pilot and flight attendant welcome us, and I gaze out the window, thinking about what comes next. Before I know it, we’re back and in his car, heading toward my place. I run through what I have to do: what to pack, what to throw out, how to organize my new life without losing myself in Oliver’s world.
“Why don’t I just meet you there?”
He glances at me curiously. “The movers will handle everything. That’s why I hired them.”
“I know, but there are some things I’d rather pack myself,” I explain, thinking about my sketchbooks, art supplies, and old journals,specifically the ones where I’ve written about him.
“No, I’ll help direct the movers. And as my wife, you could use my driver.”
“To work and school? I don’t need a driver for that,” I say, laughing. “When I’m with you, fine, but I don’t need the driver every day.”
He sighs. “Alright, but will you at least take one of my cars?”
“Oh, really? Does that include the Aston Martin?” I grin, remembering the sleek car I’d admired from afar.
He shrugs. “Sure, take it.”
The deal doesn’t sound so bad now. Live in a massive house, drive a fancy car, wear a pretty ring, and dress up occasionally as his “wife.” There are worse things in life. It’s not like I’ll fall in love with him.
When we get to my place, Oliver directs the movers while I pack my personal things into boxes. I don’t have much, because growing up in foster care taught me to keep only what matters most, like my paint brushes. Especially the ones Amber and Wren gave me. When they adopted me and found out I loved to paint, they took me to an art store. That day changed my life. I started to feel happy again. Those brushes and palettes mean the world to me, and I’ll always hold them close.
After a little while, the movers start moving the boxes to the truck. It doesn’t take long; my entire life fits into just nine boxes. I direct them, one by one, feeling like I’m taking a big step forward. Oliver watches the movers and gives me space, even though he offered to help.
How did he know I needed that? I’m starting to see a different side of him. Not a rich man barking orders, but someone who reads the room and offers soft reassurances.
But what will happen when we get to his place? Earlier, I was playing about taking his bedroom, but now it’ll be my first time seeing Oliver’s house, his personal space. My brother’sbeen there a million times, but I haven’t, and it feels new, like unexplored territory.
The truck is packed up, and I climb into Oliver’s car, where he guides me through the turns. It’s only ten minutes from where I was living, but it might as well be another planet. We pull into a private garage. He drives slowly, allowing me to take in his place. A four-story beige limestone mansion that towers over everything around it. The large, arched windows, the dark wood and glass double doors. It’s a complete world apart from my place with Declan.
Stepping out, I notice the other cars parked beside us. A red Ferrari and the familiar black Aston Martin. Evelyn’s going to lose her mind when she hears about all this. She’ll beg me for a ride in that Aston. The thought of myself behind the wheel of either vehicle seems crazy, like playing dress-up in someone else’s life. Would I ever feel comfortable driving something worth more than most people’s homes?
“What’s with the smile?”
Shifting my gaze from the cars to his, my smile fades, suddenly self-conscious. “Nothing.”
He nudges me with a grin. “You were looking at the Aston. Don’t lie, you’re excited to drive it.”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s just meet the truck so I can pick a room.”
