ELEVEN | Cold Reality | Tinsley
ELEVEN
Cold Reality
Tinsley
T he flight back to New York City went a lot smoother than the plane ride up. Mitt was aware of my comfort level with flying, and he was there for added support. But the big diamond ring on my finger helped erase all my past anxiety.
I was married. No longer single and alone. Mitt was with me, and we’d face everything together. My wish to marry, in an uncertain leap of faith, had come true. Fate was on my side and a family was somewhere over the horizon.
The morning sunrise glared on the skyline as I peered out the limousine window, and we crawled through the busy city streets. Albert handled the vehicle with ease on the salted pavement and made me thankful to be back. He was an excellent driver, and I could see why Mitt kept him after the other careless chauffeur we encountered in Colorado.
My husband had informed Albert to head back to his mansion. I had yet to explore Mitt’s home, and I grew excited. I’d get to see the place where he was most comfortable and learn new things about my husband. I was thrilled to experience the taste he had in the furnishings around the house, the color scheme he’d chosen for paint, and which decor he had picked for his interior decorator.
Did he have garden beds with pretty flowers, or did he prefer a green landscape? Would he have a butler and maids to keep the grounds organized? Did he own expensive cars and have a massive garage? A pool to laze beside in the hot summer months or a desirable patio for parties?
All these questions ran through my mind without an answer. There was a lot left to the imagination until I saw the place Mitt Morgan called home with my own eyes. And I still had to unfold simple characteristics about him.
His favorite coffee or tea, candy and sweets. Maybe he didn’t prefer any of the above. He could be a simple man and love fewer things in life or the opposite. He loved everything lavish and over the top. This option held truth after everything I had experienced while we were away, but I was about to find out if there was any accuracy to it.
“What on earth?” I cried out, flabbergasted by people suddenly all around.
Paparazzi combed every inch of the street as Albert carefully pulled up out front of a massive mansion in a gated community. Somehow, the press had got inside, and they were hungry for their shot at a number one story—a shot at some big bucks from making headline news.
Black letters on a gray brick block spelled out “Morgan Estate.” The sign was close to being hard to read, with people crowded in front of it, cameras up to their faces and ready for their million dollar shot.
“Someone must have tipped them off,” Mitt replied with a blank stare.
If body language could talk, Mitt’s wouldn’t make a peep. He watched people crowding his limousine without a care in the world. This scenario played out in front of him and didn’t even faze him. It was a scene he had dealt with hundreds of times. Too many instances caused him to have grown accustomed to it, and he was as cold as ice.
“Who would do such a thing?” I asked, with confusion. “No one knew about our abrupt elopement.”
Holly had. She wouldn’t be careless enough to reveal the truth, and she had my best interest at heart. I would not tell Mitt.
This was someone else’s doing. The person who did this was calculating and lacked humility. A cruel person with a scheme of their own and up to no good.
Mitt answered, “Someone did.”
I gulped. “Who?”
“My father,” Mitt replied simply.
Cameras flashed against the tinted windows and caused me to jump. Startled, I pulled back from the window as Albert came to a halt up against the curb. This was too much, and my stomach was in knots. I blinked several times and sweat beads coated my forehead. Instantly, the temperature was too hot as I peered with wide eyes at the pack of savage animals baring their teeth. They were ready for the kill as soon as we opened the door and exited the vehicle.
Was I ready for this fame?
Could I handle Mitt’s extravagant lifestyle?
I should’ve known this point would come. Mitt was used to this way of life, and I had to face it too. This version of his world was mine now because I was Mitt Morgan’s wife.
Suck it up, Tinsley!
I had dealt with much worse. My ex humiliated me and dumped me in a crowded restaurant on Christmas Eve. The man who I thought had loved me had a whore on the side and left me for her. That was far worse, and this unfortunate event was doable. I could freak out and have a panic attack in front of the press, but I was stronger than that. I was Mrs. Tinsley fucking Morgan—a married woman no tabloid wanted to mess with.
“Look at them...” I mumbled with power. “Scrambling around like lost animals searching for their leader.”
“They aren’t going to stop until we give them what they want,” Mitt said as he turned to me and his eyes came to life.
“They want us. Don’t they?”
“Yes,” Mitt breathed as he leaned in closer and his mouth was inches from mine. “But they also want this.”
Mitt kissed me.
It was a full blast of passion right on my unsuspecting lips. He made me delirious, breathless, as he bruised my mouth and heat formed deep in the pit of my aching belly. My pussy dripped for a taste of his skillful tongue to flick between my trembling thighs.
“Mitt,” I moaned into him when he let me catch my breath.
He broke the mind-numbing kiss and asked, “Are you ready for this?”
With hesitation, I answered, “Yes.”
Immediately, Mitt opened the door and exited the vehicle. The crowd went wild, and security came out of nowhere, forming a circle around him. He paid no attention and handled the situation like he was born for this life, made for everything thrown at him, and he leaned into the car, prepared to welcome me into his world.
“Take my hand, Wife, and I’ll protect you at all costs,” Mitt said as he extended his hand and peered at me. “No harm will ever come to you. I promise you.”
I reached out, but paused when a woman yelled, “Mr. Morgan! Any word on this rushed marriage?”
I saw a short man bounce up and down. He tried desperately to get a good picture of me sitting in the limousine as Mitt held out his hand for me to take—a tender moment I was sure was worth thousands of dollars.
The delayed reaction lasted a moment until I zoned back in on my husband. The man who had made my dreams come true. He was the reason for all this insanity, but my heart beat wildly for him. The reassurance in his hazel gaze made me certain of my decision, and I took his hand. Our fingers intertwined as he gracefully helped me out of my seat and into the flashing spotlight—into a place where all attention was on us and the sounds grew louder. The clicks of cameras, voices all around, and footsteps moving on the crisp ground.
“Back up! Mr. Morgan and his wife need through,” A security guard exclaimed as he pushed back against the swarming crowd and urged us to step forward.
My pulse raced and my heartbeat hammered. I glanced from left to right as the scene before me grew blurry, and I was dizzy, lightheaded from all the flashing lights blinking at us and causing me to feel sick.
I raised a hand in front of the lights as someone yelled out, “Mitt! Mitt! Did you do this for love or money?”
What kind of insane question was that?
I turned to Mitt, and he didn’t answer. Surprised to find his eyesight focused solely on me, like I was the most prized possession in his life and nothing else mattered to him. Only me.
My husband’s eyes sizzled with a fierce need, reminding me of all the times we had kissed underneath the mistletoe. All the practice we had led us up to this moment, where we made our grand introduction together as one. In complete unison, all New Yorkers saw that Mitt Morgan was off the market, and I was his wife.
Another person yelled, “Mr. Morgan! Kiss her!”
And my husband did.
A soft kiss without a rushed tongue as it danced inside my mouth and made me raise my leg. The tip of my heel pointed straight up to the sky as desire soared through me, and I experienced everything I had ever wanted to feel in a husband. Wanted and respected. All the ingredients to a happy, blissful marriage with a love I knew would come. His devotion to me was undeniable, and I saw it in his eyes when he pulled away with twinkling flashes of camera lights.
I smiled up at Mitt, and he grinned down at me, full of promises he’d keep for a lifetime. The crowd grew meaningless to me as we passed on by with waves and smiles of joy. The paparazzi were in a frenzy and thirsty for more.
We made it safely to the front door, where Mitt guided me inside and shut the outside world out. The slam of the wooden door was loud against my ears with how silent it was inside of Mitt’s home. He walked up some stairs, taking the steps two at a time, and I followed up behind him. Only to see a large window facing the crowd as we overlooked them. But their muffled voices from outside still came through and made me unable to forget them.
“This is insanity,” I whispered in disbelief at his side.
Mitt glared straight ahead. “Welcome to my world, angel.”
I had a lot to get used to within his universe.
“Maybe we should go out for dinner? Make another appearance?” I asked with my eyes searching through the crowd for a friendly face, but none appeared.
Suddenly, Mitt grabbed my shoulders, turning me to face him. I expected another toe-curling kiss and gasped at his unforeseen movement, feeling an adrenaline rush mixed with happiness. But the joy quickly faded when I saw his eyes.
Those deep hazel hues, which once shone at me brightly, full of mystery I had desperately wanted to unfold, now frightened me deep down into my core. They were distant, cold, and left a shiver running down my spine.
“Why? So we can smile for the cameras some more? Kiss as if we fucking can’t get enough of each other?” Mitt questioned me in an edgy, unfamiliar tone.
“Yes. Isn’t that what married couples do?” I asked with narrowed eyes.
“Yes. It is,” Mitt replied as he leaned in close, and his mouth was only heartbeats away from another stroke of bliss. “But I want to make one thing clear.”
His lips touched mine. Our breaths mingled and attraction sizzled in the air. An electric current ran rampant before a lightning strike broke the live wire in two. He left me hanging on for my life, clinging to him and ready to fall with sparks flying around us.
“What is it?” I asked, my lips brushed against his.
“I’ll never love you,” Mitt admitted as he tore his mouth away from mine, and I fell to my untimely demise.
No sparks and my brain splattered. Guts everywhere. My heart was no longer beating as I lay dead and cold on the ground.