14. Theá
Chapter fourteen
Theá
I hear the door click shut as Antonio finally leaves the apartment. I decided to stay in my room, reorganising my cupboards until he left, because between the argument and everything that happened last night, I didn’t know how to feel about him or us. The situation , that’s what it is. It’s not an us , it’s a situation. This entire fucking thing is just one messed up situation, and I need to remember that.
I finally step out of my room and decide to do some exploring around the apartment. I’m not usually left alone at home; my father would always ensure either one of my brothers or a guard was around, as well as the usual staff, so to be completely alone feels strange.
I push the large sliding door to the patio open, and the Monte Carlo heat beats down on my skin as I step out. On the few occasions I’ve visited here, everyone and everything has always seemed to be so relaxed and stress-free. An ideal life under not-so-ideal circumstances.
The patio is massive, housing a huge pool and an entertainment section, as well. I can’t help but wonder if Antonio likes entertaining. I’m sure with how close he and his brothers are, they all must love partying or having people over.
Our family was never big on gatherings; dinner was the only real time we spent together or when Noelle came home from school.
I’ll have to ask Antonio if we could take a trip to Paris so that I can see her in a less controlled environment.
Speaking of control.
My eyes trail along all the usual spots where cameras would be. And low and behold, they’re there, but I can’t help but wonder who put them there—my father or Antonio. I suppose it doesn’t matter, all that matters is what they plan to do with what they see. I know my father, and he’ll find a way to watch me. Even if it’s through someone else’s eyes.
I dip my toe into the water, and the chill sends scattered goosebumps across my skin. The same sensation I experienced when Antonio nipped at the skin of my thigh.
Fuck no. I’m not supposed to be thinking about him, especially not after what happened this morning.
My text tone for Noelle sounds in the air, and I head back inside.
Noelle:
So, how was your first night as a married woman?
Me:
We shared a bed, but nothing happened.
Noelle:
WHAT?
WHY?
Did you wear the yellow chemise we bought you?
I look down at the flimsy, yellow fabric of the chemise Noelle and Eleanor conspired together to get me for my first night as a married woman. They both insisted it wouldn’t even stay on long enough for me to worry about it being impractical.
Me:
Yes, I did. But the mood was slightly depressing after the car ride, and I may have had a bit too much to drink.
Noelle:
At least he understands consent. Kylian made it seem like he’d attack you like a caveman the second he got you alone.
Me:
Yeah, nothing like that. Are you all packed and ready to go?
Noelle:
Yeah. I just have to grab the last of my things.
Me:
I’ll come up to visit.
Noelle:
No, I’ll come to you. Even less eyes.
Your husband picked the perfect place.
That word sounds so odd to me.
Husband.
I have a husband.
I’m married, and we live together.
I let Noelle know I’ll chat with her again soon and continue on my self-guided tour.
I glide through the rooms one by one. The gym is the perfect size for a home studio and is fully stocked with any equipment I could ever dream of if I did enjoy working out. I suppose it’s one of the benefits of being married to a billionaire—lots of money to blow on unnecessary things. I wonder when my husband finds the time to go to the gym, especially since it looks like he never misses a day.
As I slip into the library, I gasp at the sheer size. It looks cosy, but bare. It’s clear it’s been left as more of a blank canvas for a reason. The walls are lined with the bookshelves of my dreams. Floor-to-ceiling shelves are empty and just waiting to be filled by my never-ending Tbr list. Especially since I read slower than I buy. The centre of the room is empty as well, aside from a shaggy rug and loveseat that I just want to sink into. It’s not much, but it has potential. And with my excitement and his credit card, it’ll be amazing. Noelle is gonna love it.
I have to remind myself that this is all temporary. And if it’s all temporary, what’s the point of getting too invested in decorating if I’ll just have to leave it all behind at some point?
That thought is enough to usher the tour on, and soon enough, I find myself upstairs again. There is significantly more space than I first thought from last night, where Antonio guided me up to my room. There are already four bedrooms just on the upstairs level alone, and that doesn’t include the guest quarters downstairs behind the kitchen. The irony, however, is that there is still only one bed in the entire apartment. A part of me wonders if his brothers might've done this on purpose, to force us into closer proximity.
I crack the door open to his room, and his scent hits me like a freight train, more so now than it did last night. In the daylight and with a sober mind, I can notice just how tidy it is. It’s fresh and all too inviting. His room is the same size as mine, but the glaringly obvious difference is the fact that his room has a bed. That and the crisp precision in which everything is laid out.
I walk over to his cupboard and open the doors, eager to see just what kind of man my new husband is. From what I’ve seen, it’s been strictly business casual, so I can’t help but wonder if there’s more lurking behind closed doors.
Shirts, slacks, blazers. Boring. He’s a typical Type-A finance bro, nothing more interesting than a piece of dry cracker.
A few more doors, and finally, I land on some normal people’s clothing. If anything, they’re fashionable pieces. I get the feeling that Augustus may have just thrown these in here with the hopes of his brother wearing them. At the bottom of the cupboard is a yellow box, and I’m chronically nosey, so of course, I grab it and head to the bed to open it up.
Another wave of his scent hits since I’m now closer to the bathroom, where he just showered after my coffee spilt all over him.
The box seems unopened. Or unused, at the least. When I slide the lid off, I’m met with a card and a layer of purple tissue paper.
I wouldn’t be your best man if I didn’t prepare you for all scenarios. Just in case that new wife of yours is your type after all.
-Mattia.
I raise a brow as I ruffle the tissue paper out of the way, and a gasp falls from my lips. It’s multiple condoms, and in the centre is a purple object that looks oddly similar to a penis.
“Heard it vibrates, too.”