Chapter 7
I woke up with a mission.
I am a wife now. A legally binding, contract-signed, diamond-wearing wife. And wives need supplies.
I grabbed my laptop (it has a sticker that says "Code Like a Girl" but I mostly use it to watch cat videos) and opened every online shopping tab possible.
"Okay, Primrose," I told my dog, who was currently chewing on one of my old socks. "We need to rebrand. We are moving to the Penthouse. We need to look the part."
Click. Click. Click.
"Total..." I squinted at the screen. "Ouch."
My bank account cried a little. But it's an investment! I am investing in my future as the Matriarch of the Muratori Dynasty!
★
Going to school felt different today.
I walked through the university gates, clutching my bag straps. I felt like I had a giant neon sign above my head that said: SECRETLY MARRIED TO A BILLIONAIRE.
I kept my left hand tucked inside the sleeve of my cardigan. The Ring (capital R) was heavy. It felt hot against my skin.
"Hey, Ali!" Stephie waved from the hallway. "You look... different. Did you change your conditioner?"
"No!" I squeaked, hiding my hand behind my back. "I just... I ate a lot of vitamins! Vitamins make you glow!"
"Right," Stephie eyed me suspiciously. "Anyway, did you hear? Mr. Samuels retired! Like, instantly! He sent an email this morning saying he's moving to a monastery or something."
I gasped. Gabriel.
"And," Stephie continued, checking her phone. "Everyone in our class got their grades adjusted. You got an A, right?"
"Yes!" I beamed. "Because I deserve it! I studied!"
"Uh-huh," Stephie rolled her eyes. "Let's go to class."
I sat through my Programming II lecture, but I couldn't focus on the Python script on the board.
My brain was floating on Cloud 9 (or maybe Cloud 100).
I rested my chin on my hand and stared out the window.
Gabriel.
I pictured his face. His sharp jawline. His obsidian eyes that looked like they held all the secrets of the universe. His broad shoulders in that red shirt.
He is so handsome. Like, illegally handsome.
And we are going to have a baby.
My stomach did a flip-flop. A baby! A tiny human made of half-me and half-him!
I started doodling in the corner of my notebook.
Baby Names:
1. Gabeesha (Gabriel + Aleesha) – Sounds like a vegetable? Maybe not.
2. Aleebriel (Aleesha + Gabriel) – Sounds like an angel! But maybe too hard to spell.
3. Serenator (Serena + Muratori) – Sounds like a robot villain.
4. Gab-Gab – Cute nickname!
5. Pinky – If it's a girl. Gabriel will hate it. I love it.
"AAAAACK!" I squealed internally, kicking my feet under the desk. I am so excited for the baby! I will knit it tiny booties! I will teach it how to code!
But then... the anxiety hit.
The Process.
My smile faded. I bit my lip.
I know how babies are made. I've seen the diagrams in biology. The sperm meets the egg. But the delivery method...
Does it hurt? Do I have to keep my eyes open? What if I sneeze?
I quickly opened Google on my phone under the desk.
Search: Can you get pregnant by holding hands very tightly? Result: No.
Search: Can you get pregnant by staring into each other's eyes? Result: No.
Search: How to reduce cortisol before... doing the deed. Result: Yoga, tea, relaxation.
I sighed. Okay. So we really have to do the Boombayah.
"Aleesha?" The professor called out. "Are you with us?"
"Yes!" I jumped, slamming my laptop shut. "Syntax Error! I mean... yes, Sir!"
★
Class was finally dismissed at 4:00 PM.
I walked out of the campus gates, humming a little tune. I pulled out my phone to book an Uber.
Beep. Beep.
My head snapped up.
There, idling at the curb like a sleek black panther, was The SUV.
The tinted windows. The shiny rims. The aura of "I cost more than your tuition."
I blinked.
Wait.
Today is Day 1. Gabriel gave me seven days. That means he shouldn't be here until next week!
I looked around. Maybe it's a different billionaire's car?
The back door clicked open. One of the men in suits (I think his name is Suit #1) stepped out and bowed slightly.
"Mrs. Muratori," he said.
He called me Mrs. Muratori! Out loud! In public!
I felt a rush of giddiness bubble up in my chest. I pursed my lips, trying desperately to hide the giggle that was threatening to escape.
He's here.
He came early.
Logic: He missed me! He couldn't wait seven days! He was sitting in his penthouse, looking at his spreadsheets, and he thought, "No! Spreadsheets are boring! I need Aleesha's chaotic energy immediately!"
Mwehehehe! He is so obsessed with me!
"Hi!" I chirped, practically skipping toward the car. "Is Gabriel inside?"
"The Master is waiting at the residence," the man said, opening the door wider.
"Ooooh, 'The Residence'," I whispered, climbing onto the soft leather seat. "So fancy."
As the car pulled away, I quickly pulled out my phone.
I hit send before I could overthink it. Mommy is probably going to faint again, but Daddy will understand the business logistics.
★
The elevator ride to the 100th floor made my ears pop. Pop!
When the doors slid open, I stepped into the hallway.
Last night, it was dark and scary. But now, with the late afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, it was...
"Wow," I breathed.
It was mesmerizing.
The view of the city was incredible. I could see everything—the skyscrapers, the parks, the tiny cars that looked like ants.
The penthouse itself was massive. The floors were polished dark wood, the furniture was sleek and modern (and very gray), and there was a grand piano in the corner that looked like it had never been played.
But then, I saw something that didn't fit the "brooding billionaire" aesthetic.
"WOOF!"
"PRIMROSE!"
My golden retriever came bounding across the expensive Persian rug, her tail wagging so hard her whole body wiggled.
"You're here!" I dropped to my knees and hugged her. "Who's a good girl? You are!"
I looked up. Next to the couch was my luggage. Not just any luggage—my Pink Light-Up Hello Kitty Luggage that I ordered this morning!
I blinked.
Wait. I ordered that to my house. It arrived at my house.
Gabriel had someone go to my house, pick up my dog, pick up my packages, and bring them here? Before I even arrived?
"Stalker vibes," I whispered to Primrose. "But also... very efficient. I like it."
Click.
A door on the far side of the room opened.
Gabriel stepped out.
My breath hitched.
He was wearing dark red again. A crimson dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows to show off those intricate tattoos on his forearms. His hair was slightly messy, like he had been running his fingers through it.
He looked like a vampire king who just woke up from a nap.
"Husband!" I shouted happily.
I stood up and ran toward him. I opened my arms wide.
Hug time!
I launched myself at him.
He didn't move. He didn't open his arms. He didn't even flinch.
I sort of... bounced off his chest. It was like hugging a marble statue.
"Oof," I stepped back, smoothing my cardigan. "Okay. No hugs yet. Noted. We are taking it slow."
Gabriel looked down at me. His expression was unreadable.
"You are early," I said, tilting my head. "Did you miss me?"
"No," he said. His voice was deep and rumbled in his chest. "I recalculated the timeline."
He walked past me, heading toward the kitchen island. I followed him like a duckling.
"Recalculated?" I asked.
"Yes," he poured himself a glass of water. "Waiting seven days is inefficient. Furthermore, staying in your... colorful... environment creates distractions."
He turned to face me, leaning against the counter.
"It is better if you stay here," he stated. "You need to acclimatize to this environment. You need to be comfortable with me. Familiarity reduces stress response."
He looked me in the eye.
"And as you pointed out," he added dryly, "high cortisol levels reduce fertility. Therefore, living here will lower your cortisol, ensuring the process is successful."
I nodded slowly. Nod. Nod. Nod.
"Science!" I agreed. "You want me to be comfy so my eggs are happy!"
"Essentially," he grimaced slightly at my phrasing. "Your room is down the hall. The dog can stay, provided it does not chew the furniture."
"Primrose is a lady!" I defended. "She only chews socks."
"Fine," Gabriel set the glass down. "I have work to do in my study. Do not disturb me unless the building is on fire."
He turned and walked back toward the dark oak door of his bedroom/office.
Slam.
I stood alone in the giant living room.
"Okay," I whispered. "Operation: Wifey begins now."
★
I unpacked my pink luggage in the guest room (which was bigger than my entire house, by the way). I set up my Hello Kitty toothbrush in the marble bathroom. I put Dumpling the Squishmallow on the bed.
Now, the room looked 5% less depressed.
I checked the time. 6:30 PM.
"Dinner time," I said to Primrose.
I looked at the closed door of Gabriel's office. He was working. He was probably hungry.
Idea!
"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach!" I declared. "If I cook him a delicious dinner, he will be impressed! He will smile! And then my cortisol will go down because I am a Good Wife!"
I marched to the kitchen.
This kitchen was... intimidating. It had three ovens. It had a fridge that talked to you. It had knives that looked sharp enough to cut through time.
"Okay," I rubbed my hands together. "I can cook rice. I can cook pasta. But tonight... we need something special."
I opened the fridge. It was full of healthy stuff. Kale. Sparking water. And... chicken breast.
"Chicken!" I snapped my fingers. "I will make... Chicken Curry!"
Curry is warm. Curry is spicy. Curry is the color yellow, which is a happy color!
I pulled out my phone and searched: Easy Chicken Curry Recipe for Beginners.
"Step 1: Sauté onions and garlic."
I can do that!
I found a pan. I found the oil. I chopped the onions (I cried a little, but it was for love!).
Sizzle.
Smells good! I am basically a Michelin Star chef.
"Step 2: Add chicken and brown it."
I threw the chicken in. Sizzle, pop!
"Step 3: Add curry powder."
I looked through the spice cabinet. I found a jar labeled "Curry Madras - Hot."
"Hot means passion!" I nodded wisely.
I dumped... well, I didn't measure. I just poured until it looked yellow enough.
"Step 4: Simmer."
Okay. Simmering means leaving it alone, right?
I turned the stove knob. But this was a fancy gas stove. The flame shot up! WHOOSH.
"Whoa!" I jumped back. "Okay, high heat means faster cooking! Efficiency!"
I left the pan on the "efficient" flame and turned around to wash the chopping board.
I started humming a song. I was scrubbing the board. I was thinking about baby names again. Gab-Leesha... Leesha-Briel...
Sniff. Sniff.
"Is that... toast?" I wondered.
Sniff.
"Wait."
I turned around.
Thick, black smoke was billowing out of the pan! The yellow curry was now a bubbling, blackened tar!
"OMYGOSH!" I shrieked.
I ran to the stove. I grabbed the handle.
HOT!
"OUCH!" I dropped the pan. It clattered against the burner.
And then... the oil splashed.
FWOOM.
A flame! A real, actual fire shot up from the pan!
"FIRE!" I screamed, waving my hands. "FIRE! FIRE! PRIMROSE, RUN!"
And then, the sound of doom.
WEE-WOO! WEE-WOO! WEE-WOO!
The fire alarm blared. It was so loud it shook my bones. The sprinklers above the island started dripping.
"NO! NO! STOP!" I grabbed a towel and tried to fan the smoke, which just made it swirl everywhere.
Suddenly, the office door flew open.
He didn't run. He blurred.
One second he was at the door, the next second he was in the kitchen.
"Move," he commanded.
He didn't wait for me to move. He reached out, grabbed me by the waist, and—I am not kidding—snatched me off the floor.
He lifted me like I weighed nothing and practically threw me onto the living room couch.
"Stay," he barked.
He turned back to the inferno. He grabbed a red canister from under the sink.
PSSSSHHHHHHHHHT!
A cloud of white foam exploded over the stove.
The fire died instantly.
The smoke hung in the air, thick and smelling like burnt dreams.
The alarm finally stopped.
Silence.
I sat on the couch, my knees pulled to my chest. Primrose was hiding behind the piano.
I looked at the kitchen. It was covered in white foam. My curry was destroyed. The pan was ruined.
And Gabriel...
He stood in the middle of the mess. He was still holding the fire extinguisher. There was a smudge of soot on his cheek. A speck of white foam on his dark red shirt.
He put the extinguisher down. Clank.
He turned slowly to face me.
I gulped. My throat felt dry.
"I..." my voice came out as a squeak.
I looked down at my hands. I couldn't look at him. He was going to yell. He was going to kick me out. He was going to say I was incompetent.
I peeked up through my lashes.
He wasn't yelling. He wasn't red in the face.
He was staring at me with a calm expression. A very, very calm expression. It was the kind of calm that comes before a hurricane destroys a city.
He walked toward me. His footsteps were silent on the rug.
He stopped in front of the couch. He towered over me.
"Aleesha," he said.
"I'm sorry!" I blurted out, tears stinging my eyes. "I just wanted to make curry! Because the way to a man's heart is his stomach! And I thought yellow was a happy color! I didn't know the stove was on steroid mode!"
Gabriel stared at me. His jaw clenched. I saw the muscle feather.
He took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.
"I have chefs," he said. His voice was flat. Monotone.
"I..."
"I employ three professional chefs," he continued. "They are on call 24/7. They can prepare any cuisine you desire within thirty minutes."
He wiped the soot from his cheek with his thumb.
"Do not," he said, pointing a long finger at the kitchen, "ever touch my stove again."
"But I want to be a good wife!" I wailed softly.
"You will be a good wife by not burning down my penthouse," he stated.
He looked at the foam-covered counters. He looked at me, huddled in a ball of shame.
He sighed.
"Go to your room," he said tiredly. "I will have someone clean this. And I will order dinner."
"Okay," I whispered.
He turned and walked back to his office, closing the door with a definitive click.
I sat there for a moment, clutching Primrose who had crawled onto the couch to comfort me.
I looked at the disaster kitchen. I looked at my heavy ring.
"I failed," I whispered to my baby. "Day 1, and I almost killed us."
I buried my face in Primrose's fur.
Being a billionaire's wife is harder than it looks.