When I come back from my room, Damien is not in the living room. He’s standing in the kitchen, his gaze fixed on something on the kitchen counter. I’m praying it’s not one of Lake’s drawings, which thankfully I no longer put on my fridge nowadays but are displayed in my bedroom.
“What are you doing?”
“A swear jar?” He turns to face me, a mason jar full of notes and coins rattling in his hand.
I shrug. “To keep myself accountable. I’m trying to swear less.”
“Yours or your boyfriend’s idea?”
“Mine. And yes, Lake keeps me accountable. Can we go now?”
He puts the jar down. “Lake sounds like a boring Sunday School teacher.” He doesn’t move at my command. Instead, he takes in the kitchen and looks around as if he has all the time in the world.
“You said you’ve already spent four million.”
“What?”
“I assume you meant to buy an apartment. Because from the looks of this one, you need a new place.”
“Thank you for deriding a place I worked hard to afford. Now can we go?”
His gaze returns to me, and with one look, he captivates me in an instant. God, he’s devastatingly handsome. The blue shirt and black jeans look he has on make him seem intimidating, but he’s not to me. The two top buttons of his shirt are undone and a little of his chest peaks through enough for me to want to see more. I don’t know why that drives me wild, especially on him.
“Why is that?”
“Huh?” I drag my gaze away from his chest, embarrassed by my momentary lapse in concentration, and focus on what he’s saying.
“You don’t need to work hard to live in a shitty place like this. I would have thought someone as rich as you wouldn’t have to live paycheck to paycheck.”
I look at the time on my phone. If we get out now, we will probably be early. There’s plenty of time, but I would rather spend as little time as possible alone with Damien if I could. Preferably outside this apartment. “Do we have to do this now?”
“I mean, I think as your husband, I deserve to know that at least. A marriage full of secrets is hardly one that would last.”
I roll my eyes. I don’t intend on making this marriage last. “My dad cut me off, and I wanted to prove to him I can do it all on my own.”
“And then it got too hard? I get it. Living like ninety-nine percent of the world can be a difficult thing to do.”
His tone is mocking and full of derision. I choose not to take the bait. Truth is, my parents wanted control of Lake. They wanted me to give him to them and pretend he wasn’t my son, so I wouldn’t disgrace the family. But I can’t tell him all of that, can I? Father practically cut me off not just from the family money, but from the family entirely. When I refused to do as he said, and mother was spineless to fight for me. If it weren’t for Nolan’s help, I don’t know what I could have done.
“Something like that. Can we go now?”
His eyes narrow, as if he’s trying to figure me out. But then he gives up, shrugs, and goes to the door. His town car is waiting for us outside. I notice that the same driver he had when we went to Vegas is the one who opens the door. He smiles at me as I get into the car and I wonder what he thinks of all of this. He surely must know my marriage to his boss is fake.
The car takes us to my father’s townhouse, now my mother’s. It’s one of the few things she got when he died. Instead of selling it, she prefers the prestige of living in a grand house, even though she can barely afford the upkeep. I steel myself as we enter the house. It’s been a long time since I’ve been here and the last time I was here, I swore to never return.
Chapter 7
Ivy
We are early, just as I hoped. Damien and I are the first guests to arrive. Mom has made a few changes to the townhouse since I’ve been here. The old-school turn-of-the-century-inspired decor is out, replaced by modern minimalism that’s all the rage. Instead of browns, reds, and wood, it’s now whites, grays, and glass. Mom is the first to receive us, and she beams with delight as she hugs me. The redecoration must have been expensive. No wonder she’s looking for money.
“Oh darling, I’m so happy to see you.” She invites me in for a hug and I reluctantly accept. The transatlantic accent she likes to put on when she’s hosting is out in full force today.
“Are you?” I ask as I pull away from her embrace. Every time she calls, she never wonders how I am or what I am doing. Her primary concern is usually money which I don’t have, scratch that, didn’t have until now.
“Of course I am. Ivy, why do you say things like that?” She turns to Damien. “And this must be the lovely husband.”
“Damien Sinclair,” he says, offering his hand. She hugs him instead. “Oh, I know.” She playfully taps his chest. “How’s your mother? Is she still… what was it…making wine?”
