Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“L et me grab my camera gear, and then we can get started.”
“Now?” Graham balked.
“Unless you have somewhere better to be?”
“I definitely have something I’d rather be doing.” He gave me a pointed look.
“Mm.” I bit my lower lip. “Tempting.”
He took a step forward, and I held up a hand as if to stop him. “Nope. I know what you’re trying to do.”
“And what’s that, Mrs. Mackenzie?” He took another step closer. His chest met my palm, easing against my resistance.
“Distract me.”
He closed the distance, and my hands rested on his chest. “Is it working?” He dipped, pressing his lips to the skin behind my ear, a featherlight touch that set my body ablaze.
“I—” I cleared my throat. “I, uh…” I clutched his shirt in my fists, trying to concentrate. Focus.
Focus, Lil!
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I straightened and took a step back. “Okay.” I patted his chest. “That’s enough—for now. You’re not getting out of this.”
He arched one eyebrow as if to say, “You sure?”
I planted my hands on my hips and narrowed my eyes at him in response. Hoping the gesture conveyed that I was sure. Even when my body was screaming in protest at the loss of his touch.
“No rest for the wicked.” He adjusted himself. “I’ll go change, and then we can get started.”
I smoothed my hand down his chest, unable to resist touching him. “You look great. Relaxed. At home. The more comfortable you are, the more it will reflect on-camera.”
“But I’m CEO of one of the most lucrative luxury hotel chains on the planet.”
“And everyone knows that. They see you in suits all the time. But they don’t get to see you like this.”
I only hoped that I’d get to see Graham like this after we returned to LA. I knew things would change. Of course they would. He’d go back to working full time, and we’d go back to attending public events. But I hoped we’d still be as vulnerable and authentic with each other.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked, showing a rare hesitance. Was he nervous?
I placed my hand over his heart. “Do you trust me?”
He brought my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Of course.”
“Then trust me on this.”
He blew out a breath. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
“That’s the spirit,” I teased and ducked inside. I checked my phone, frowning at a new message from my mom.
Over the past few weeks, I’d ignored countless texts from my family. Their anger had since cooled, turned into apologies. A thinly veiled attempt to manipulate me into giving my sister the money.
Sometimes I wished I could go back to before . To when my family hadn’t been jealous and resentful. To when they’d viewed me as an oddity instead of a piggy bank that they tried to guilt into giving them money.
I deleted the text and grabbed my gear. As soon as I returned, Graham took my camera bag and tripod from me.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yep!” I chirped with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. Eager to distract him—and myself—I said, “Wait. Didn’t you say you had a surprise for me?”
“I said, I had something I wanted to show you.”
I arched a brow and gave his crotch a pointed look.
“Not that.” He shook his head. “Though I’d be happy to show you that anytime.”
“Mm.” I licked my lips, my mind flashing to last night and the way I’d sucked him off.
Watching him lose control had been glorious, but I wanted more. I wanted something real. Telling him about my alopecia had been a good first step. And his reaction had been, well, everything.
But could he love me? For now, maybe it could be enough to know that he cared about me. Regardless of his feelings, our situation was complicated. So long as we were pretending to be a happily married couple, I wasn’t sure I could distinguish what was real from what wasn’t.
We walked to the edge of the grand allée , and Graham watched as I set up the camera. “Okay,” I said. “Can you walk down the grand allée toward the chateau?”
“That’s all you want me to do—walk?” He looked incredulous.
“For starters, yeah. I need to make sure the angle and framing are right, and then we can go from there.”
I also wanted to start getting Graham comfortable in front of the camera, but I didn’t tell him that. The more relaxed and natural I could make this feel, the better.
I pressed the record button, and he walked up the grand allée toward the chateau with Queen V and Prince Albert. It was perfect. The lighting. His clothes. The framing. It made me giddy with excitement—my creative juices churning at the prospect of including Graham in my videos.
“Perfect,” I called out. “Come back, and we’ll do it again. Together.”
He returned, and we retraced his steps, this time hand in hand. I smiled up at him, and he was silent. Stiff.
“What’s up?” I asked, knowing the camera wouldn’t pick up our voices without a microphone. Even if it did, I could edit out any conversation. “I feel like your ass cheeks are clenching so hard, you’re going to shit diamonds.”
He barked out a laugh. “You paint quite the image.”
“Well, you are a billionaire. Maybe you do shit diamonds.”
“I don’t. But I have noticed that you rarely wear your ring.” He gave me a look.
“I’d hate to damage it. You know how rough some of these projects can be.”
“It’s insured, but I appreciate your wanting to protect it.”
I nodded.
“I should’ve asked sooner,” he continued. “But is the style not to your liking?”
“Are you kidding?” I gaped at him. “It’s beautiful.”
Secretly, I loved it. And I loved wearing it—maybe a little too much. Not only because it was a beautiful piece of jewelry but because of what it symbolized.
Commitment. Family. Permanence.
I loved the idea of being his wife, but I had to remind myself this was temporary.
“Even so,” he said, interrupting my thoughts. “If it’s not you, then I get it. I’m happy to swap it out for something different if you’d prefer.” He rubbed his thumb over my bare ring finger. I noticed he rarely took his wedding ring off, though it was a simple gold band. There were no stones to knock loose or damage.
We reached the chateau and stared up at it. “I’d hate for you to have to spend any more money on me than you already have.” Just thinking about it gave me an ulcer.
The engagement ring was expensive. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know how expensive. But it seemed like a drop in the bucket compared to everything else he’d done. I was beginning to wonder if I’d gotten the better end of the bargain. And regardless of Graham’s feelings for me, I vowed to do anything in my power to ensure that he succeeded with his plans for controlling the Huxley brand.
Graham stopped walking, and I slowed. When I turned to face him, I realized he was scowling.
“Not every decision is based on money.” His eyes glinted with some emotion I couldn’t place.
“Says the billionaire.” I waved a hand through the air, wishing I could wave away my morose mood so easily. Why was I acting like this? I had everything I could’ve hoped for and so much more. And yet, I wanted more. I wanted Graham.
“Let’s go back and get my camera, and then we’ll take some other shots,” I said.
He walked with me back down the grand allée . I stopped about halfway, turning and wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Kiss me,” I murmured.
He peered down at me, placing his hands on my hips. “I don’t like the idea of kissing you on-camera.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of this relationship?” I kept my voice low. “It’s all for show.”
God, Lil. Could you be more obvious or pathetic?
“I still don’t like it,” he said, and I wasn’t sure what to make of his tone. I wasn’t sure how to answer.
I was testing him, sort of. Did he feel this too? Was there any way he’d ever want this to be more than pretend?
Maybe I should’ve just told him what I was feeling, but I was scared. Scared he didn’t feel the same way. Scared that I’d ruin something wonderful and turn it into something beyond awkward.
“You don’t have to like it. But the more invested people are in our love story, the less attention they’ll pay to stupid rumors.”
He cupped my cheek, his touch a gentle claiming.
I clutched his shirt in my hands, wanting him closer—not just for the camera, but for me. “Do you want everyone to believe this is real or not?”
“I do, but?—”
“Then kiss me,” I said again, this time more forcefully.
He hesitated, smoothing my hair over my shoulder. And then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
“I can work with that,” I said.
He grunted but said nothing more.
We filmed a few more scenes around the grounds, viewing the progress of various projects. Talking about what was coming up next.
“The sunflowers will be ready to harvest soon,” Graham said as we passed through a field of them.
I glanced out over the colorful, happy field of flowers. I didn’t think I could look at sunflowers without thinking of our wedding. Light suffused the air with a sort of golden quality that made it feel as if anything were possible. I wanted to capture this moment, live in it forever.
“Un tournesol, ” I mused. “To turn with the sun.”
“Sunflowers can have numerous meanings, but my favorites are loyalty, strength, and resilience.” He looked me straight in the eye, and it felt as if he was trying to tell me something more than what he was saying with his words.
Or maybe I was merely wanting to read more into it.
I tilted my head, watching Graham in the fading sun. “How do you know all that?”
“My gran.”
He was quiet and so was I, giving him a minute to process his thoughts. I knew how important his grandparents were to him, even if he rarely mentioned their influence on his life outside the company.
“I used to pore over her books on botany and the hidden meaning of flowers. The Victorians attributed all sorts of symbolism to various plants and flowers. Often using flowers to send hidden messages to others.”
“Like a secret code?” I asked.
“Sort of.” The colors in the sky shifted, turning a beautiful pink. “My gran used to pick a fresh bouquet from her garden every week, always sending me messages of love with her flowers. It was something only the two of us shared. Our own little language.”
“That’s really sweet.” I smiled, placing my hand on his arm. “I’m sure you miss her a lot.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He stared at the ground, a thoughtful expression on his face until his lips tipped into a smile.
“What?” I finally asked.
“It’s funny. I haven’t thought about her secret flower messages in years. Not until, well…you.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised and delighted by his admission.
“Maybe it’s because your name is a type of flower.”
“Lily?” I asked, and he nodded. “And what does a lily symbolize?”
“Lilies can have many meanings, depending on the culture or even the color of the flower itself. Everything from purity and innocence to fertility or even everlasting love.”
But what did lilies mean to Graham? Especially where I was concerned.
“Mm. Interesting. And ferns?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t being too obvious. Our wedding flowers had included lilies, ferns, sunflowers, and roses.
“Ferns are symbols of new beginnings and protection. That’s why I chose them for our wedding.”
Okay. Maybe not so subtle after all.
I blinked at him a few times. “ You chose the flowers? I thought Carson took care of all the arrangements.”
“He executed my plans, but all the selections were mine alone.”
My jaw dropped, and I quickly turned away to mask my surprise. “ All the selections?”
“The menu. The outdoor space. The flowers. Everything.”
I jerked my head back. “Damn. You put a lot of thought and effort into a fake wedding.”
“ Real wedding,” he gritted out.
“Yes. Yes. Fine.” I waved a hand through the air, knowing this was a point of contention for him. “Real wedding.”
I supposed I had the ring and the marriage certificate to prove it. But despite how legally binding our wedding had been, he hadn’t married me for love. So in my mind, it would never be “real” in any meaningful sense of the word.
That day—as beautiful as it had been, and as real as it had felt to me in some ways—would always be overshadowed by our arrangement. By the fact that Graham needed a wife and I needed his money.
He grabbed me, pulling me to him. “You’re mine.”
But for how long?
I was already falling for my husband, and that scared the shit out of me. His company had always been his first priority, and I knew that would never change. I’d never expect him to change. Heck, it was one of the things I loved most about him.
“We should head back,” I said, worried that this honeymoon phase was just that—a phase.
A look of disappointment flashed through his eyes, and then it was gone. Prince Albert whined, ending further conversation on the matter.
The dogs were getting hungry and so were we, so we headed back to our living quarters. I set up the camera outside and got ready to film the tour.
“I thought we were done filming,” Graham said.
“We are, but I’m not. My followers have been asking about my living situation, and I’ve been meaning to give them a tour.”
He jerked his head back. “You what?”
“You know, a home tour.”
He glowered. “Absolutely not.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Excuse me?”
“It’s a safety issue. People already have your address—there’s no way to hide the location of the Chateau de Bergeret . But do you really need to give them a step-by-step plan to break in to our home?”
Our home. I liked the sound of that way too much.
But this wasn’t our home. It was temporary. Everything about this was supposed to be temporary. Our living situation. Our marriage.
“It’s common practice for vloggers,” I said, trying not to betray my inner turmoil. “Besides, you had Hudson Security install surveillance cameras.”
“I don’t fucking care what other people do. They’re not my wife.” He practically growled the “my wife,” and while it shouldn’t have been hot, it was.
Hot, but also a reminder that he was protecting his interests because we were married. Because we had a deal. He didn’t care about me, Liliana. He cared about “his wife.” Talk about a reality check.
I gnashed my teeth. “I may be your wife, but I am still my own person.”
He stepped closer. “I know you are.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “But I don’t think you appreciate how much information you share with the world and what kinds of ideas and access that can give someone.”
I frowned. “Now you’re scaring me.”
“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“Isn’t that what Willow’s for?” I asked. “And where is she anyway? I haven’t seen her at all since we’ve been here.”
“She’s been collaborating with the on-site residential team.”
“For their assessment,” I said, though it was more of a question.
“Initially, yes. But the team will provide twenty-four-seven surveillance whether we’re here or not.”
I blinked a few times, trying to process this new information. “For how long?”
“Indefinitely.”
I stared at him, mouth agape. “Don’t you think you should’ve mentioned that?” I mean, I’d seen the team around, but I’d figured their presence was part of their security assessment. Not something permanent.
Hell, our marriage was only supposed to last one to two years max. Did Graham intend to continue surveillance even after that? It seemed both expensive and intrusive.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy sigh. “You’re right. I should’ve talked to you about it.” He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry. With everything else going on, it wasn’t a priority. But it should’ve been.”
Mollified, I asked, “Is there a way I could do the tour without jeopardizing our safety?”
“If anyone would know, it’s the team from Hudson.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to them,” I said, knowing that his concern wasn’t unwarranted. And my decisions didn’t just affect me anymore; they affected Graham too.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “First, I want to show you something. Close your eyes.”
“Okay,” I said, dragging out the word but ultimately complying.
He came to stand behind me, brushing my hair over my shoulder. He skimmed his hands over my shoulders, down my arms, finally taking one of my hands in his. I shivered at the contact.
He led me toward the entrance to our living quarters, and I was intrigued. “I hope you’re not mad about this. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise, but maybe that was a bad idea.” The door creaked as it swung open, and I could feel his nerves.
I was apprehensive, excited. Nervous. But I could tell that he’d wanted to do something nice for me.
“You can open your eyes.”
The living room slash kitchen looked about the same as it had this morning, though it had a new farmhouse sink as well as a new stove and oven. Nothing too over the top, but it felt like a luxury after cooking everything on a hot plate.
“Wow.” I stood there, taking it all in. “This is nice.”
“I’m glad you like it. There’s more.” He opened the door to an old utility closet to reveal a new, energy-efficient washer and dryer.
I nearly fainted. For the past year, I’d had to go to the laundromat in town to wash my clothes. This would save me so much time and energy.
“Come on.” He tugged my hand, guiding me past the bedroom, which looked the same at first glance. But then I froze.
“The new mattress arrived!”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Looks good, doesn’t it?”
He’d made the bed, so it looked like something straight out of a promo image for a Huxley Grand hotel. The new sheets I’d ordered had arrived, as had the comforter. They were freshly washed, and the bed looked so inviting.
“It looks amazing.”
For a man who claimed not to be a cuddler, Graham had held me every night since we’d come to France. I’d gotten used to falling asleep in his arms, and I hoped that wouldn’t change now that we had more space. Though, I noted that there was still only one bed. He must have gotten rid of my old mattress.
“One more thing,” he said, pulling me toward the bathroom.
The top of the bathtub was obscured by a shower curtain that hung from an oval-shaped copper rod. That’s new.
Graham pulled back the curtain to reveal a pole with a matching copper showerhead that looked as if it had always been there. “ Voilà !”
“Wow.” I stepped closer. “That’s gorgeous.”
“That’s not even the best part.” He grinned. He was too cute. Clearly, he’d put a lot of effort into this project, and he was proud of it.
I could imagine Graham as a little boy, showing off his hard work to his family. Seeking their approval, their praise. Who gave that to him now that his grandparents were gone? Who reminded him that he was doing a good job?
“What’s the best part?” I asked, delighted both by the changes I’d witnessed in our home and in this man.
“We not only have a shower.” He switched on the faucet, and steam immediately rose into the air. “We have hot water.”
I gasped. “No way.” I stepped closer, placing my hand underneath the spray. Warm water cascaded over my hand, and it felt glorious. “Oh my god. I think I love you.”
Shit. My eyes widened, and I quickly jumped to damage control, hoping Graham would brush off my admission as a joke.
I stepped closer, tugging on the hem of his shirt. Distract. Divert. “You want to try it out with me?”
“What about your wig?” This was new territory for us—showering together.
“I can shower with it, but I typically remove it. The wig will last longer if I only wash it once every few weeks. But I can keep it on if you’d prefer,” I said with a twist of my belly.
He grasped my chin, bringing my gaze to his. “I want you to do whatever is most comfortable for you.” The words were spoken in a slow, measured tone.
I nodded, and when I inhaled, my breath was shaky. He released me, and I took a step back, removing my baseball cap before setting it aside. Since I often got sweaty when working at the chateau, I’d opted to wear glueless wigs while we were in France. It still had a lace edge, to make it look more natural, but it was a lot more comfortable for my scalp.
With my heart in my throat, I removed my wig, baring myself to him completely.
“Lil,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “Look at me.”
I met his eyes, scared to see what I’d find there. But he greeted me with acceptance, his eyes glowing with warmth and affection.
“You—” he cupped my cheeks “—are stunning.”
“You’re not…” I glanced away. “Disgusted?”
“Disgusted?” He said the word like it tasted bad in his mouth. “Why would I be disgusted?”
“Most people are weirded out by the baldness.” Some of the guys I’d dated in the past had been. So I’d always made sure to have my wig, eyebrows, and eyelashes on at all times.
“You’re beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, to the bare skin there. “ Envo?tante .” I smiled, remembering him using that same word to describe me on our wedding day, and it meant enchanting or bewitching.
A tear streaked down my cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered, feeling lighter.
“And if anyone ever says otherwise, they will regret it.” Anger flashed in those green eyes like lightning.
I would’ve laughed, but his tone was so serious, so menacing. For me. I couldn’t help but feel grateful. Loved.