Page 43 of Masked Hearts

Me:

We shared a bed, but nothing happened.

Noelle:

WHAT?

WHY?

Did you wear the yellow chemise we bought you?

I look down at the flimsy, yellow fabric of the chemise Noelle and Eleanor conspired together to get me for my first night as a married woman. They both insisted it wouldn’t even stay on long enough for me to worry about it being impractical.

Me:

Yes, I did. But the mood was slightly depressing after the car ride, and I may have had a bit too much to drink.

Noelle:

At least he understands consent. Kylian made it seem like he’d attack you like a caveman the second he got you alone.

Me:

Yeah, nothing like that. Are you all packed and ready to go?

Noelle:

Yeah. I just have to grab the last of my things.

Me:

I’ll come up to visit.

Noelle:

No, I’ll come to you. Even less eyes.

Your husband picked the perfect place.

That word sounds so odd to me.

Husband.

I have a husband.

I’m married, and we live together.

I let Noelle know I’ll chat with her again soon and continue on my self-guided tour.

I glide through the rooms one by one. The gym is the perfect size for a home studio and is fully stocked with any equipment I could ever dream of if I did enjoy working out. I suppose it’s one of the benefits of being married to a billionaire—lots of money to blow on unnecessary things. I wonder when my husband finds the time to go to the gym, especially since it looks like he never misses a day.

As I slip into the library, I gasp at the sheer size. It looks cosy, but bare. It’s clear it’s been left as more of a blank canvas for a reason. The walls are lined with the bookshelves of my dreams. Floor-to-ceiling shelves are empty and just waiting to be filled by my never-endingTBRlist. Especially since I read slower than I buy. The centre of the room is empty as well, aside from a shaggy rug and loveseat that I just want to sink into. It’s not much, but it has potential. And with my excitement and his credit card, it’ll be amazing. Noelle is gonna love it.

I have to remind myself that this is all temporary. And if it’s all temporary, what’s the point of getting too invested in decorating if I’ll just have to leave it all behind at some point?

That thought is enough to usher the tour on, and soon enough, I find myself upstairs again. There is significantly more space than I first thought from last night, where Antonio guided me up to my room. There are already four bedrooms just on the upstairs level alone, and that doesn’t include the guest quarters downstairs behind the kitchen. The irony, however, is that there is still only one bed in the entire apartment. A part of me wonders if his brothers might've done this on purpose, to force us into closer proximity.

I crack the door open to his room, and his scent hits me like a freight train, more so now than it did last night. In the daylight and with a sober mind, I can notice just how tidy it is. It’s fresh and all too inviting. His room is the same size as mine, but the glaringly obvious difference is the fact that his room has a bed. That and the crisp precision in which everything is laid out.

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