Page 41 of Prized Possession

Silence stretches between us as we both eat our toast and drink our coffee. I’m acutely aware of every movement he makes, and each time his arm catches mine, or his knee brushes against my leg. I’ve never been so conscious of another person before.

After a while, the silence becomes deafening, and the building tension grows to the point I have to talk. “So, you have a meeting today? Erm… What do you need me to do?”

We’ve never really spoken about what I’m supposed to do while I’m here. In fact, we haven’t really talked at all. There wasn’t exactly a job description for what ‘belonging to him’ entails.

Marcus’ brow furrows and the confusion on his face is evident. “What do you mean?”

I let out an annoyed huff. “Well, when you brought me here, you didn’t exactly give me instructions of what you want me to do while I’m here. I know I’m supposed to help you get Jacob on the straight and narrow—which I still think is a bloody impossible task—but other than that, I have no idea what I’m supposed to do for you while I’m here. What does belonging to you entail?”

Marcus lets out a chuckle, and I shake my head at the emotional whiplash I get around this guy. “You’re not one of my employees, Chloe. The whole reason you wanted to get away from your family and the arranged marriage was sothat you could figure out who you are… That includes finding out what it is you’re passionate about. What did you do at home during the day?”

My cheeks begin to heat, and I’m sure they’re turning bright pink. “Honestly, I did whatever my parents told me to do. I attended social functions, with the intention of getting our family name out there, particularly charity events.

“Mother drags me shopping a lot, and then I do very stereotypical things like spa days, manicures, beauty treatments, trips to the hairdresser…things like that.”

“Why do I get the impression you hate all of those things?”

I let out a humourless laugh. “Because I do hate them. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to have a massage or a manicure every so often, as a relaxing treat, but that’s not what this was. Even going to the gym wasn’t about me enjoying myself, it was always about the end result. Everything I was forced into had the end goal in mind—the creation of the perfect society wife.”

“So you don’t have any hobbies or things you like to do for fun?” he asks, sounding exasperated.

I shake my head. “Nope. Everything has been to make me better wife material. I took piano lessons so I was more cultured. I speak Latin, which I’ll never fucking use, but it gives me an edge over women who can’t speak it.

“I took etiquette lessons to learn how to be the perfect woman, and still attend once a week to make sure my habits don’t slip.

“Together with my mother, we run two charities, but with the exception of planning the fundraising galas and balls, I have no idea what our charities do. There’s not a single thing in my calendar that I chose for myself.”

I don’t know whether Marcus looks more shocked or angry, he’s always so reserved with his emotions. I only catch glimpses of them, and they’re gone so quickly, it’s nearly impossible to get a read on him.

“Well, you can use your time here to do exactly what you want to do. If you want to go to the gym or swim, we have the facilities here, but you can go on your own terms, not because someone is telling you that you have to.

“Other than that, I suggest you think about what you actually enjoy doing. You’ve spent your whole life with other people’s voices filling your head, telling you what to do. When all the other voices are silenced, you can finally listen to what yours is trying to tell you. Find what it is you’re passionate about, and grab the opportunity with both hands.”

“Okay,” I reply, not really sure what else to say.

“Just do me one favour,” he asks, and I look up at him, giving him my full attention. “Stay in the flat, just for today. I haven’t had a chance to sortout security for you, or to even discuss that with you. We can talk when I get back, but just for today, please, stay inside.”

It might be the first time he’s ever said the wordplease, and so I agree, even though I want to argue with him about the security issue. I agreed to move here to be free, not to have a whole new set of staff follow me around. But we won’t have time for that argument right now, so I bite my tongue…for now.

“Thanks,” he says with a small smile, clearly being able to see how much I want to fight him on this. “Just spend the day getting to know the real Chloe. Forget about all the shit your parents have forced you to do, or the person they’ve made you become. While you’re here with me, you can be whoever you want to be. You just have to take the time to search for her.”

I let Marcus’ words sit with me for a bit, hating how right he is. I haven’t heard my own voice in a very long time. I’ve just been going through the motions, doing as I’m told, almost on autopilot. That’s why my life has started to feel like a monotonous drone, as I’m not doing anything for me.

Now I can change that… As thrilling as the idea is, it’s also terrifying. I’m not even sure who I am without the person I pretend to be for my family, so tapping into that is bloody scary.

Marcus and Miles leave for their meeting, and I sit at the stool in the kitchen for a long time, just looking around at everything. I marvel at all the modern utensils and equipment that Marcus has, which seems totally out of character for him.

I don’t know why, I just don’t see Marcus standing here in his modern, fully kitted out kitchen, doing something as menial as cooking.

Yet, it’s an image that I can’t get out of my head.

Marcus dressed in his low slung grey sweatpants, cooking me breakfast with that cocky smirk that shows me he’s aware I’m not just drooling over the delicious cooking smells.

Fuelled by the bizarre image, I find myself wandering around the kitchen, pulling cupboards open and looking at all the different things inside. I’m half way along when I find a stand mixer that looks almost brand new, and for the first time in a long time, I hear the voice Marcus told me to listen to.

A memory from so long ago hits me, and a lump in my throat forms because I’d almost forgotten this.

When I was about eight-years-old, whenever I’d visit my Momma—my dad’s mum—we would bake together. No matter how many members of staff she had to help her, when it came to the kitchen, that was all Momma.

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