Page 37 of Pretend Wife
“There are two bedrooms down the hall on this floor. They both have attached bathrooms and access to the balcony. You can take whichever one you want.”
“I don’t have anything to sleep in.”
He headed for the stairs without a backward glance. “Both closets are stocked with the basics.”
“I told you not to buy me clothes.”
He paused with his foot on the first step. “I didn’t buy them for you. Those closets have always been stocked.” He didn’t give me a chance to reply, disappearing upstairs while I stood rooted in place.
His words shouldn’t have hurt, but they did.
I hadn’t expected to be sleeping in Hayden’s room. Having my own room on a different floor from him was reasonable. What hurt was that those rooms were stocked with women’s clothing. He hadn’t even bothered to clear out the closets for me.
The hand Hayden had kissed not five minutes ago curled into a fist. He’d only done that because we were in public. He was keeping his promise to convince the world that he loved me. And he was a far better actor than I’d realized.
Was any of it real? Had he ever felt anything for me, or was I just a temporary stop on his journey? Was I any different than the other girls he’d had stay here?
I retreated to the bedroom at the very end of the hall, mostly because it was the farthest away from Hayden. He was right about the walk-in closet being well stocked. There were pajamas of every kind, evening dresses, jeans,blouses, and tank tops. Shoes ranging from heels to canvas sneakers lined one of the walls.
Everything was made to fit someone roughly my size and shape. It would appear Hayden had a type.
I pulled my phone from its holder at my thigh, where I’d nestled it beside my bow, and called Miles.
“Dani?” He picked up on the second ring. “Are you okay?”
I winced at the worry in his voice. “I’m fine,” I said in the least convincing voice ever. “I need a favor though.”
ELEVEN
Hayden
I was an idiot.
Why in the ever-loving fuck had I believed that I could live under the same roof as Danielle for months? All it had taken was one afternoon of staring at her in that dress and I felt like I was two seconds from losing my mind.
I shouldn’t have kissed her during our ceremony, or I at least should have given her a chaste,closed-mouthkiss. But Danielle had always had the power to make me lose control. She was like a custom-made drug. One taste always led to two and then three, and before I knew it, I was so hooked I thought I would die if I didn’t get my next hit.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, there was the word that ran through my mind when I pulled back from the kiss and looked into her whisky eyes.Mine.
Again, I was an idiot. Danielle wasn’t mine. This wasjust a deal, a temporary arrangement she’d only agreed to because she cared about my baby brother.
I stared up at the ceiling above my bed, debating what to do next. Our wedding hadn’t included dinner, and while Danielle was welcome to anything in my kitchen, I knew she’d probably put up a fight about eating my food. The girl had no clothes with her andstilltried to tell me off for having stocked the closets before she arrived.
Yeah, I’d lied about the closets always being stocked. They’d been completely empty for the three plus years I’d been living here. I didn’t buy her a lot. Just enough to ensure that she was taken care of, that she didn’t have to shell out a penny if she didn’t want to. I could respect her desire to choose what she wore and be responsible for herself, but there was no way in hell I was leaving her without a safety net.
And if I had to lie about where the clothes came from or why they were there, so be it.
It was better that way anyway. We’d both be better off if she believed that I didn’t do it for her.
I was debating the best way to order food for her without her getting mad at me when my phone chimed with a notification that someone was in the foyer outside my door. I didn’t technically own the foyer, but since my apartment was the only one on this floor, I might as well have. And Ididown the security cameras that gave me twenty-four-hour surveillance of the space.
I pulled up the footage to find my brother standing in the middle of the foyer, a large duffel bag in one hand and his phone in the other. He laughed at somethingbefore sliding the phone into his pocket and closing the distance to my front door.
The camera angle didn’t allow a view of the door itself, but I was willing to bet if it did, I would see Danielle standing in the doorway, probably still in her wedding dress. Because she was the type of stubborn who would rather ask Miles to bring her stuff than touch the clothes I’d gotten for her.
She’d always been glaringly different from any other girl I’d dated. I knew women who would choose love over money, but Danielle was the only one who adamantly refused everything I tried to buy her. It was both refreshing and infuriating. I wanted to be able to take care of her financially, especially while she was my wife.
I watched the security footage until Miles left, then texted my second PA—the one I paid to pick up my lunches and dry cleaning since Sierra lived outside the city and worked a grand total of three days a week—and headed for my en suite bathroom. Chances were Danielle wouldn’t turn the girl away when she showed up with my food delivery, and I really wanted a shower.
