Page 21 of Making It While Faking It
My eyes take in an L-shaped blue velvet sofa facing an extremely large flat-screen television. There’s also a white marble round table with four high-backed leather chairs on one side of the room along with my own little stocked wet bar and glass refrigerator full of all sorts of snacks. Caroline shows me how the TV folds in and out of a pocket in the ceiling.
“It feels like he intends to trap me in my room,” I say with a nervous laugh. I’m only half joking.
“No,” Caroline says, shaking her head adamantly. “You are free to use any part of the house you like.”
I search her face for signs that she has no idea what she’s talking about and is merely speculating. After all, she hasn’t seen the way he treated me when he and I last saw each other. Regardless, I smile tightly and nod, my way of letting her know that I’ll try to believe her.
I walk back up the steps to the main sleeping area and finish looking around. There’s still a lot to take in. I like the wall featured behind the headboard. It’s made of some sort of smooth gray stone. Then there are the floating end tables on each side of the bed, both with chrome tops and trimmed with white wood. Two standing floor lamps match the pendant light to help create the cozy ambiance that wants to lure me to sleep.
“So, does he have his own interior designer?” I ask Caroline, sliding my fingers down the stone wall feature.
“No,” she says, sounding slightly surprised by my question.
Nodding, impressed, I give my room another once-over. “Then he put all of this together himself?”
“Yes, he did.”
A question locked in my head wants out as my lips quirk up into an impish smile.
Surprisingly, Caroline regards me with a smile so faint it could be missed. I think she’s intrigued by the look on my face.
I should ask…
I’ll ask.
“Is he gay?” falls out of my mouth like an apple dropping from a tree to the ground—plop.
“Oh!” Caroline gasps, leaning away from me. It’s clear she’s shocked by my question. Or maybe she’s shocked that I asked it. That’s right—she thinks we’re a couple. Everybody does thanks toTRM.
I wave my blunder away with my hands. “Sorry, forget I asked that.” I fake smile. “He’s my fiancé. Of course he’s not gay.” My chuckle is awkward, forced, and I’m sure it matches my flushed face.
“No, he is not,” Caroline answers in a voice void of judgment.
My nod is so stiff as my eyes dart around the room, reaching for anything and everything but her face.Gosh, why did I ask that question?
Enough seconds of silence go by to place our interaction in the past. Time bears down on me. I’ll have to go to the kitchen soon, get a feel for where things are, see what’s already in the refrigerator, and then come up with a plan for dinner.
Smiling cordially, I set my focus back on Caroline. “And my clothes and things are already here?”
“Yes,” she says, her dutiful tone not missing a beat and eyes locked on me.
Then I follow her to my closet, which is vast and elegant. People spend a lot of money to get these sorts of closets built. Every single article of clothing I own hangs neatly on one of several bars. Furthermore, shirts are with shirts, pants with pants, and so forth, and each garment is color coordinated. She shows me how my underwear and other garments are folded neatly in dresser drawers by kind and arranged by color. My shoes, hats, purses and scarves, and jewelry have also been displayed with care.
I stay silent while Caroline reveals my closet to me like a museum tour guide. This is all too much. If it were up to me, I would’ve packed one suitcase. That way, if I wanted, I could easily go wee-wee-wee all the way home. But look at this closet. I can’t go anywhere. I’m too dug in.
The Lady of My House
ACHILLES LORD
ELEVEN HOURS LATER
“What the…”
I step out of the elevator and into my penthouse. The lighting in the foyer is brighter than usual. Seeing the change, a bitter taste rushes into my mouth. I bend my stiff neck from one side to the other and then grunt painfully.How could Caroline let this happen?I clap twice, pause, then clap two more times to make the ambiance more to my liking, which is dim and relaxed, the way I like to feel when I come home from a long day of work.
Treasure Grove must’ve browbeat Caroline into getting her way. I instructed Caroline to make sure she’s comfortable but not at the expense of how things around here should be.
I clench my jaw tightly and tug down on my tie, loosening it. That’s better, even though I’m still tense through my shoulders. I probably should’ve gone to the Four Seasons as planned. After Nero and I left Niles Bar, we went back to my office and held a conference call with James, our finance guy, and Hercules. Everybody had a job to do: find our side’s advantage in that damn contract I signed, any advantage beyond the obvious, the big payoff of seeing through this sham of a union long enough to have the original trust legally and permanently transferred into my name, since I’m the eldest son. It’s a large-scale power play. If all goes well, it’ll set my family up securely and comfortably for the rest of our lives. As for the rest of the Lord descendants, none of them will have to jump through our great-great-grandfather’s puritanical hoops again. I will abolish all the rules and regulations that each descendent has to satisfy to even receive minimum payments. No more marrying cousins either. That shit will be over with.
