Page 21 of Forbidden Billionaires: Vol. 3
A Whirlwind of Color - Chapter 9
Thursday
Most parts of this life would be easy to adjust to. A penthouse apartment that overlooked Central Park made the idea of being stuck in a city I hated a little more appealing. And my closet? I stared at the organized rows of dresses. I had never seen so many designer clothes. Everything in this apartment, even the closets, was over the top lavish.
But there were also secrets. A couple locked doors. Nails in the walls that held nothing at all. Like something important had been removed from existence. It was unnerving that I had no idea what it was.
And then there was James. He was the epitome of unnerving. In a lot of ways, he wasn't even my type. Or maybe he was, but he was just a little too old for me to realize it. He didn't exactly look that old, but he certainly acted older than me. He even refused to drink with me. I had to finish the bottle of wine alone. It kind of seemed like he had a stick up his perfect butt. Every time I looked at him, he was studying me seriously instead of smiling. His smiles were short. His laughter shorter.
I took one more glance at the contents of the closet. There were more shoes than I could even count. Mostly high heels. Everything looked amazing, but honestly, all I wanted to do was change out of this stiff dress into something actually comfortable. Were there any unsophisticated clothes in here? Leggings? Tank tops? Anything that would cover me from head to foot so I felt safe around James tonight?
I knew I was dilly-dallying. But as soon as I found something to wear to sleep, I’d actually have to crawl into bed with a stranger. My attempts at suggesting I stay in a guest room were all immediately thwarted. And he didn’t seem to take the hint that maybe he should sleep in one of them. It was his house. I couldn’t force him. I bit the inside of my lip. Where were the freaking sweatpants?
“Your nightgowns are in the second drawer from the top,” James said from the master bedroom.
Nightgowns? What was I, 80 years old?I’ll wear a pair of pajamas to bed, thank you very much.I opened up the drawer and looked down at the silk and lace scraps of material. These weren’t big enough to be nightgowns. I was pretty sure the last nightgown I owned had been flannel and floor length. I could picture myself wearing it on Christmas morning. No way in hell was I wearing one of these skimpy things.
“Where are all my favorite pajamas?” I asked and turned around.
James was leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded across his chest. Staring. Always staring. “You don’t own any pajamas.”
“What about my favorite ones with the little panda bears all over them?”
He just stared at me. “I’ve never seen them.”
“What about a pair of sweatpants?” I was capable of compromise.
“You don’t own any of those either.”
“Seriously? They’re like my go-to thing to comfort me after a bad day. Well, that and ice cream.”
“The ice cream I know. But usually you come to me to be comforted. The sweatpants probably just aren’t necessary anymore.”
Oh.That was sweet. However, it didn’t take away from the fact that I was sweatpants-less in a time of crisis.
“I’ll let you change.” He left me alone in the huge closet.
I turned back around. What kind of uptight woman had I become? No sweatpants or comfy pajamas. The horror of it all. I lifted up one of the silky nightgowns. It looked like something a porn star would wear. The t-shirts on James’ side of the closet were calling to me. At least they’d be long enough to cover my ass. I grabbed a black one off the hanger and quickly changed.
I studied my reflection in the mirror. Simple. Unsexy. I smiled to myself. I had always loved in romantic comedies when the female lead wore the hero's shirt to bed. It seemed chic and sexy…my thoughts came to a halt. I didn’t want to be sexy. I wanted to be the opposite of sexy. I wanted to be frumpy.
My eyes scanned the closet once more but I didn’t see a better alternative.God, please already be asleep.I stepped out of the closet, tugging at the hem of the shirt, hoping to lower it even more.
James was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He looked exhausted. But his eyes lit up when he saw me. Like I had done something to make him happy, even though all I had done was stolen one of his t-shirts.
“I’m sorry, I should have asked.” I stopped pulling on the fabric. “It just seemed more comfortable than those…nightgowns.” I had almost lost my words because he had chosen that moment to sit up straight. He had lost his shirt and was only wearing a pair of boxers. And he was perfect. Every cut of muscle on his stomach made him look like a Greek God. His arms were lean and strong. His skin was even perfectly tanned.
“It’s fine. Really.” He smiled at me staring at him. And this smile didn’t look concerned or tinged with sadness. He looked genuinely happy.
“Alright. So…” my voice trailed off. “I guess that’s my side.” I pointed to the opposite side of the bed that he was sitting, trying my best not to keep ogling him.
“Unless you’d prefer here,” he said.
“No, that’s okay.” I walked over to my side of the bed and pushed back the sheets. I figured once he fell asleep, I’d slip out of bed and go sleep on the couch downstairs. Or maybe I’d take the time to figure out how to unlock one of the doors down the hall. Or find some of the pictures that had been removed from the walls.
I slid into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I felt him staring at me before he switched off the lights. The bed sagged slightly when he climbed in, but he didn’t try to come on my side.
I kept my eyes open, waiting for them to adjust to the darkness. Hints of his cologne swirled around me. I'd had too much to drink tonight. Or maybe it was his cologne intoxicating me. But words spilled out of me to fill the silence. “I’m glad I married you,” I said.And not Austin.What a nightmare that would have been.
“Me too.” His words sounded harsh and broken, like maybe he was holding back tears.
The sound made tears well in my own eyes. “I’m trying. To remember.” I wasn’t sure if that was true. But it would be tomorrow. I needed to do a better job pretending. I didn’t want to break him any more than he was broken.
“This is hard for me too,” he said into the darkness.
“I know.” My voice was quiet. I remembered waking up in my hospital bed with his arms wrapped around me. I had thought he was Austin. But if I was being honest, I had never felt that content in Austin’s arms. It was like my body knew it belonged to this man, but my heart and head didn’t understand. But I wanted to feel comforted again. And I didn’t have any sweatpants in this apartment. I slid my hand into the middle of the bed.
Even though the act had been silent, it was like James could tell I was reaching for him. His hand slid toward mine. Just the tips of our fingers touched. But it felt momentous to me.
