29. The card, the phone, and the ring
MICHELA
29
After I dress in my best charcoal suit and beige blouse and slip on my sensible flats, I walk into the main living space, where the sun in the east can’t pierce the tinted windows, so I’m able to get a perfect bird’s-eye view of New York in the morning. Busy city. Serene waters. Calm horizons.
“It’s so beautiful.”
“One of my favorite sights,” Corrado says.
I turn. “Oh yeah?”
He nods from a barstool, one foot propped on the bar under the chair, the other stretched out. His wedding band reflects the sunlight as he swipes his thumb across the phone screen. As I approach, Corrado’s cool and breezy cologne welcomes me. I’m used to his other cologne, the spicy, warm one I like so much. This cool one makes me think he’s not going about his regular business.
Come to think of it, Corrado’s dressed in black. While some men dress in black all day, every day, this doesn’t seem to be the case with Corrado. I think he might be attending a funeral today. Since it’s a sensitive subject and I don’t know him well yet, I skip asking the direct question.
Besides, I still haven’t had coffee. I walk to the bar where a tray with a pot of fresh steaming coffee, milk served in a carafe, and cubed sugar in a bowl await me.
“Did you prepare this?” I ask as I sit at the bar.
Corrado pockets the phone and motions with his hand. “Come closer. I don’t bite this early in the morning.”
My thigh brushes his knee as I fix my coffee with a splash of milk and two cubes of sugar. “Thank you.” I pick up a silver spoon and stir.
“Welcome. Put your wedding band on, or I’ll carve my name in its place.”
I sip my coffee and groan with pleasure. Tastes like some gourmet dark roast they might’ve grown on Mars for all I know, since it’s otherworldly good. Strong and smooth at the same time. Ah-mazing. I’m going to savor every moment of this morning and not let Mr. Dangerous Billionaire, who made it all possible, spoil it with the reality of our bogus marriage. I take another sip. And another.
From inside his pocket, Corrado pulls out a thick gold pen. He twists, then flips it, and it’s a switchblade! “The ring, wife.”
I grab the jewelry box, open it, and slide on my band, then lift my left hand in front of his face. “There! Good Lord.”
Corrado grabs my wrist while pocketing the blade-pen. He kisses the top of my hand and says, “Looks beautiful. Do not take it off. Also, our names are engraved so you don’t lose track of who’s your husband.”
“Haha. You’re a comedian in the morning.”
“I do my best.”
“The Joker wants his role back,” I say under my breath.
“What was that?” Corrado leans in.
“Nothing.”
“Didn’t think so.” Between two fingers, Corrado holds a black credit card. He flips it toward me. “This is for you.”
“I don’t have a credit card like that.”
“You do now.”
I ball my hands into fists. “I can’t accept that.”
Corrado sighs. “It’s for the things we need in the house. Whatever else you might need. New clothes?”
“I brought clothes. Oh.” I make a worried face. “Do you think my outfit is crappy?” I straighten out my suit. When Corrado doesn’t answer, I swallow. “You do. I should go change.”
“You don’t have clothes that are appropriate for the events we’re attending. I’d like you to shop for gowns, but if you find yourself wanting to shop for business suits, then you do that.”
“I’ll go shopping as soon as I get paid. I can’t take your card.”
“It’s not my card.” He lays the card on the bar.
I read Michela Mancini in a sharp golden font that looks luxurious against the sleek black background.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“Mmhm. Next,” he says and narrows his eyes when I sigh painfully. This man woke up and conquered the morning while I can barely string two words together. I gulp the rest of the coffee and start making another cup. Imma need a thermos of this to catch up to Mr. Lion over here.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asks.
“Yes.” No. Did he say something?
“Funny, because I wasn’t speaking.”
“Joker,” I tell him. “Not Batman.”
Corrado’s lip twitches, but he’s not laughing. Oh no, he’s as serious as a racehorse before the starting bell.
“Your new phone,” Corrado says after a lengthy pause. He nudges a large, wrapped blue box toward me. When I open my mouth in protest, saying how I have a perfectly functioning phone, he adds, “The battery life on your antique phone is horrible. For my peace of mind, I would prefer that you have one with a longer battery life so you can reach anyone at any time during the day and not have to trouble yourself with recharging it.”
To be fair, I never liked my phone, and every time I’m at the mall, I window-shop for a new one. “Thank you.” I open the box and take out a sleek champagne-gold phone matching the color of the car in the garage. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it. It comes with a new phone number too.”
Crap. “Everyone knows my number.”
“People who matter will learn the new number.”
“They will for now. But what happens when you leave?”
Clearly caught off guard, Corrado presses his lips together, allowing a pause before answering, “You get your life back, albeit with an upgrade. But for the duration of our time together, your life is mine. I thought you understood that.”
“I understand even more now.” Corrado controls everything and everyone near him.
“Good. About the engagement ring. Stephania is ordering the diamond from Prince Anastas Orontes, who is insisting on meeting you before selling me the piece she requested. I may let him meet you, or I may not.”
“A real-life prince? No way.”
“And now you’ll never meet him.”
I poke Corrado in the chest. “You sound jealous.”
“You’re my wife. When it comes to you, I can be anything I want to be.”
His gaze is intense and a bit much this early in the morning. I look away and fiddle with the phone before I pick it up. “Thanks. For all this.”
Corrado clears his throat. “My pleasure. I have three minutes left. Do you have any questions?”
The entire time, he ran with the clock. Damn. “Do you drink coffee?”
“In the car on the way to wherever I’m going.”
“What time do you usually wake up?”
“Four thirty.”
“Ungodly hour.”
He leans in, a smirk on his handsome face. “The devil never sleeps.”
When he doesn’t pull back but tilts his head as if he might kiss me, I cover my mouth. “I can’t make out right now,” I speak from behind my hand.
He chuckles. “Who said anything about making out?”
I blush. “Nobody said it, but I’m saying I can’t.”
Gaze down, he locks his cuff link. “Out of curiosity, why not?”
“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”
Corrado laughs on the way to the door. “Have a nice day at work.” At the door, he pauses. “And Michela, you already brushed your teeth.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I slap my forehead. “I forgot because General Corrado is running my morning.”
He laughs. “Better salute, then.”
I salute and expect him to salute back or keep laughing, but he stands there staring at me, making me pause and take in the moments we shared. Warmth spreads through my chest, and I swallow, knowing what that is. Hope. Happiness, maybe. A bit of both.
I wave goodbye to him.
Corrado’s cologne lingers in the air long after he leaves, and I inhale lungfuls of the scent as I drink my coffee while taking in my surroundings. The lavish furniture and a billion-dollar view make me squeal in delight, but the joy is squashed almost immediately when my brain supplies the image of my mom shaking in the corner of some bare four-by-four room that looks more like my brother’s jail cell than a bedroom in a fancy rehab place.
The patients aren’t allowed phones, and the people who picked her up said they’d call me when I could talk to her or visit. Although rehab is the best thing for her now, I miss her, and I worry about her. Even if I wanted to call now, the time on my new phone tells me it’s way too early to call anyone, even a place with twenty-four-hour staff.
Yet, I want to try.
When I open the phone, the screen shows many icons I’ve never used, and I better not press even a single one or I’ll spend the day on the sofa exploring them all. But the red alert on the unread message glares at me. Probably a welcome from the phone company, so that’s safe to open and read quickly.
I press it and see that it’s from a contact that’s labeled itself as HUSBAND.
In all caps.
I chuckle and open the message. Corrado sent me a picture of me sleeping in the bed in the spare bedroom.
Under the image, it reads:
The locks can’t stop me.
“Oh my God,” I mumble, then cover my mouth before I utter something inappropriate and wrong like that’s hot. Corrado watching me sleep should creep me out, but it makes my body burn since it feels like he watches over me. He cares about me, and at the same time, he’s using me for whatever purpose he needs me to fulfill.
Nothing wrong with benefiting from one another while in agreement to do so.
Not sure where the sexual tension between us fits, but sleeping with Corrado would change our relationship. At least for me. For him, it would be just sex, like a shot of tequila at sunset. Quick and dirty, only good while it lasts.
The cursor blinks in the space where I can type my reply, and I wonder if I should message him back.
The phone rings.
I jump, fumble with the phone, and make the save right before it hits the marble floor.
I pick up. “Hello.”
On the other end is a woman asking for Michela Mancini.
“This is she,” I say.
“My name is Daisy, and I’m calling from Terris Design Human Resources, which your husband called a few minutes ago.” She pauses, probably waiting for me to acknowledge or recognize what Corrado’s up to while working on his phone, most likely in the back of the car or the limo, but since I have no idea, I say, “Oh yes, thank you for calling.”
“I have great news for you. We are most excited to handle all your start-up needs, and Mr. Evans already called confirming your location on his floor.”
Wha… “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Looks like I’ll message Corrado after all.
“I’m wondering if you’ll be coming in today.”
“Yes, of course. When do you need me?”
A lengthy pause, then: “Whenever you arrive, ma’am.”
“Is there a good time for you?”
Another pause. “Anytime is good for me since you own shares in the company and a corner office.”
I stare at the screen and then answer, “Right. Right. I’m new at all this. Corrado is better versed in…start-ups than I am. This is my first business, you know, and it was his wedding present, a surprise of sorts.”
“Awwww, I want a billionaire husband.” A gasp and then a soft, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“He has an older brother,” I tell her.
Daisy chuckles. “You’re nice, thank you. But yes, you can come in as you please. Senior designers are like partners in a law firm, if you know what I mean.”
Not really. Senior designer. Holy crap. “Yes, mmhm. I know what you mean. I’ll be in shortly.” We hang up, and I look out the window at the billionaire view again, hoping it will penetrate my brain and rewire it for what’s happening in my life right now.
Corrado bought shares in Evans’s design company and a location for my start-up business. I don’t quite understand what that means other than that now he owns a part of what Evans does and all of what I do.
Still, the corner office? That’s wonderful.
I keep my phone with me in case the people from the facility call.
(Hint: They don’t.)