Chapter Forty-Two
Grace
“Do I smell okay?” Huxley asks the next day over breakfast. He showered last night when I told him the scent on him gave me a headache. He seemed surprised that he smelled like anything except his body wash. He showered again this morning before joining me in the eat-in kitchen.
“Yes,” I say. “Thank you.”
He nods. “It might’ve been the cigar I had when Ares came by. I’ll be more careful.”
I smile without correcting him. I think back on the way Madison blocked me yesterday by raising her arm. At that time, it seemed like a casual gesture, but now that I think about it, she lifted her limb in such a way that her wrist would be in my nose.
She’s playing a game. Viv’s done it too, except with less finesse. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m okay with it. Madison’s attempt to place a wedge between me and Huxley makes the whole world seem bleak.
“By the way, I don’t like Madison.”
“Why? Did she do something?”
“She’s rude. I don’t like the way she speaks to me.”
Huxley frowns. “I’ll have a talk with her. She’s been under a lot of pressure recently with one of our clients being difficult. When they become unreasonable, she has to run interference.”
Tension tightens the muscles in my neck and shoulders. “I hate to put it this way, but her stress isn’t my problem. Her attitude is. Did she tell you I stopped by yesterday?”
“Yes, she did, and I’m sorry I missed you. I stepped outside to clear my head after an irritating call with that same client. Seeing you would’ve been much better.”
His soothing words mollify me a little. He gets up and rubs my shoulders, and I relax into his touch, enjoying the gentle strokes. “She also acts like she’s so much closer to you than me.”
“We work closely together, but she won’t cross certain boundaries.” His tone is firm.
I should let it go, but what happened yesterday and the tinge of her perfume on Huxley from last night still rub me raw. “Won’t or can’t?”
His hands pause on my shoulders. “Both. Don’t you believe me?”
Pettiness doesn’t suit me. Neither does clinging to unnecessary resentment and jealousy. It’ll only tear me apart. But getting rid of my feelings is easier said than done. I drag air deeply into my lungs, then exhale, imagining all the toxicity from Madison leaving my soul. “I do, but that doesn’t mean my trust extends to her as well.”
“Like I said, I’ll have a talk with her. And I’ll get you an assistant of your own, so you won’t have to deal with her directly. I should’ve thought to get you one earlier, somebody to manage all your doctor’s appointments and so on, so you can rest when you’re here at home.”
“Huxley!” I gasp in shock. “I’m not telling you this to get you to hire me an assistant.”
“But you must be really busy to not shop for new dresses and stuff.”
“I don’t want to buy maternity clothes so early, since I don’t know how big I’m going to get.” I’m not showing as much as I thought. When I texted Dr. Silverman, she said it was normal for first-time moms. “And just to be clear, I didn’t contact Madison to have her buy me maternity stuff.” As if I’d let someone like her near anything for my baby or pregnancy. After our interaction yesterday, I wouldn’t put it past her to sprinkle chicken blood on the baby’s pacifier or something.
Huxley pauses, then turns me to look at him. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the art auction hosted by the Pryce Family Foundation.”
I stare up at him, nonplussed.
“I’m going,” he clarifies.
“Okay… But what does that have to do with my needing to go shopping?”
“You’re going to be my plus-one.”
“ Me? ” I squeak.
He laughs. “Yes. You’re my wife. Who else would be on my arm if not you?”
I gasp. “Oh my God. You’re right. I didn’t think about that at all.” I’ve never attended a fancy event like the auction. How much longer is it going to take before I get used to the kind of life my husband leads?
He hugs me. “Look. Why don’t we shop for jewelry during your lunch break today?”
“Are we going to have enough time?”
“We can eat and shop at the same time. You seem partial to sandwiches. Ham and turkey with Swiss and bacon, right?”
I blink. That’s the one I had when Huxley came by the foundation. “You remember everything.”
“When it’s important.”
Hot pleasure sweeps over me. I launch myself at him, hugging him hard, and inhale the amazing scent of forest and spring and him.
He laughs. “I get a hug over remembering what you like on a sandwich?” He squeezes me. “I’ll pick you up at a quarter till noon. We’ll get you something pretty.”
* * *
Huxley shows up exactly at eleven forty-five at the Pryce Family Foundation and hands me a single bright red rose. “For my beautiful wife.”
“Thank you,” I say with a smile, feeling the weight of others’ eyes as pleasure slowly swirls through me.
“Have fun!” Brenda, one of the assistants, says with a wave and wink.
“Thanks.” I turn to Huxley. “So. Where are we going?”
“Sebastian Jewelry, unless you have another place in mind. Seb can be a dick, but he knows gemstones.” There’s a hint of affection.
“Did he pick out the stones for Lucie?”
“Yup. And believe me, it isn’t easy to get something that meets with her approval. Not when it comes to jewelry. Hopefully you’ll like something there.”
I’ve never been inside Sebastian Jewelry’s flagship store. But then, I never thought I’d be able to afford anything here. From the polished black marble to the textured wallpaper, from the soft, pleasant scent and piano melody in the air, the place exudes old-money elegance and affluence.
As soon as we step inside, a uniformed clerk locks the door and flips the sign over to say, Closed . Another one trots toward us, stopping when I lean toward Huxley to have a discreet moment.
“Wait… It’s closed?” I whisper.
“To the public. Not to us."
“I don’t understand.”
“I rented the entire store.”
My jaw slackens. “Can you do that?” I’ve only seen it happen in movies.
Huxley shrugs. “Why not? We’re family.”
Ooh. A special hookup! “Do we get a discount?” I whisper, barely able to suppress my excitement.
He gives me a slightly bemused look. “A discount?”
“You know. A friends and family discount?”
“With Seb?” A snort. “More likely a surcharge.”
I gasp. “What?”
“Just kidding.” Huxley laughs. “You’re so funny about money. You know what the limit is?”
“No…” We didn’t discuss a budget.
“This.” He pulls out his black AmEx. “You can get whatever you want.”
I narrow my eyes, then make a show of scanning the countless sparkling diamonds, emeralds, pearls, sapphires and rubies. “How about everything in the store?”
“Why not?” He turns to the clerk, who is waiting for our signal. “My wife wants everything.”
“No!” I smack his shoulder lightly then look at the clerk. “He forgot his medication. Let me look what you have first.”
The man smiles. “Certainly. My name is Jared Andersen. This way.”
He leads us to a private room complete with a plush love seat and an armchair and a beautiful onyx table. Four trays full of various baubles await my perusal.
“You didn’t have to rent the whole store if we were going to be in a private room anyway,” I whisper.
“I might’ve done that if you were just my girlfriend. But you’re my wife.” He kisses my forehead.
I flush with pleasure at the solemn way he calls me his wife. A sense of belonging ripples through me again, and I lean my head on his shoulder, enjoying the warm solidity of his strong body. He threads his fingers through mine, and I feel like I can walk into any battle with this man by my side.
Another clerk comes forward and places a plate with a ham and turkey sandwich in front of me, along with the pear cider I’ve become addicted to. Huxley gets a roast beef and Coke.
“Take your time.” Huxley’s eyes barely flick in the direction of the trays.
“Mmm. Hard to decide. They’re all pretty.” I look closely at the emeralds while nibbling on the sandwich. The set has earrings and a necklace set in platinum. The square stones are a green so deep, they look like something out of a wild forest. Some associative switch gets thrown in my brain and I’m reminded of Huxley’s scent. There’s a hint of that annoying floral again, but it’s much lighter compared to yesterday and doesn’t give me a headache. Madison must’ve doused herself in perfume to leave some on my husband. I may never understand her motive behind provoking me, but she isn’t going to ruin my lunch-slash-shopping date with Huxley.
I resolutely shift my focus back to the jewelry. The diamonds are pretty, too. So are the pearls—flawless, lustrous and large. Both are safer options, classic, and would go well with anything. But somehow my eyes return to the emeralds. Since Huxley wants me to buy a new dress for the auction, I want to get it in purple, since I already have two black dresses. But will green stones work with a purple dress? I narrow my eyes, trying to picture the combination in my head.
Go for the safe option. Diamonds and pearls are the easiest to mix and match.
But I don’t want to be safe. I want to be adventurous for once, and not worry about repurposing what I have for later . Hmmm. Dilemmas, dilemmas… I can’t believe I’m mentally stuck when Huxley already has his black card back out of his wallet. Must be years of living on the edge. I swallow the last bite of the sandwich, wondering which—
“My wife would like the emeralds,” Huxley says to Jared.
I start and turn to him. “How…?”
“Easy. You looked at them twice, the second time for a very long time. You pursed your lips and got that faraway look in your eyes. Then you looked at the diamonds and the pearls, but couldn’t quit staring at the emeralds, so why not get them?”
I flush, pleased and shy that he was watching so closely and understands me so well. “I was just thinking about matching them with whatever dress I might buy.”
“Go for it. Emeralds are surprisingly versatile, at least when the stones are that saturated.”
“He’s right, Mrs. Lasker. These will go well with whatever ensemble you select for a special occasion.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
The man leaves with the black AmEx, and Huxley says, “Told you,” with a warm smile.
“You sure did.” I give him a quick kiss. “Thank you.” Then I stand up. “Now that that’s done, I have to use the ladies’ room. Excuse me.” A slim woman comes forward and takes me to a beautifully appointed bathroom with a stack of fluffy cotton towels and toilets that look like the one Huxley has from Japan. But not exactly the same—the ones here don’t talk.
I read that as the baby grows in your womb, your bladder can’t expand much and you have to hit the bathroom more often. But why am I experiencing that when the baby is still so tiny? I wash my hands and reapply my lipstick. In the mirror is a flushed woman whose eyes are shining with something too intense to be called mere affection. My belly flutters, like right before a rollercoaster is about to drop. Excitement and trepidation entwine around my heart. Somehow, despite our initial friction, I’m much more into Huxley than I ever imagined possible.
I finish up in the bathroom and head out to join my husband. Familiar voices come from the private room, and I shift so I can listen without people inside seeing me.
“Huxley, thank God I caught you,” Madison says, breathing hard. “James is here, demanding to see you.”
“For what? He isn’t supposed to be in town until next week.”
“I don’t know. He’s hysterical.”
“Is he ever not?” Huxley mutters in disgust. “Is Miguel in to show him the files?”
“Miguel says he can’t pull anything from the cloud, and he’s apparently lost all his files…?” Madison makes a small, helpless noise in her throat. “IT is on it, but James says he has to talk to you or else.”
“Let me wait for my wife first.”
“He doesn’t seem to have much patience,” Madison adds.
“It’s his fault for showing up without making an appointment.” Huxley’s words couldn’t be more terse.
Guess Madison wasn’t entirely lying when she said nobody sees Huxley without an appointment. But she didn’t chase after him to let him know of my visit, either, unlike with this James fellow.
Pasting on an innocent smile, I step into the room, take my place next to Huxley and give him a kiss. My surreptitious glance at Madison shows her watching us with a stony expression. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” I whisper.
“It’s nothing.” He strokes my back. “All good?”
“Yes.”
“They’re going to courier the set to the house,” he says. “I hate to leave early, but I have a work emergency I can’t get out of. Madison will give you a ride back to your office.”
“I’d hate to impose. My office is in the opposite direction from yours. I can Uber,” I say, not wanting to spend any more time than necessary with his assistant.
“Nonsense.” He presses a kiss on my crown. “See you tonight.”
I wave, then turn to Madison. “Guess it was quite the emergency.” My tone is bland.
“Yes. With an important client.” Her gaze is insolent as she regards me.
Couldn’t have been that important if Huxley said he ought to wait, I think as I wait for her to make the next move. This James barging into the office might’ve been a coincidence, but her acting like it’s a huge deal isn’t. She wants to interrupt our date and make me feel as insignificant as possible. It might’ve worked if I hadn’t developed such a thick skin, thanks to Karie and Viv.
Madison’s phone pings. She glances at the screen and frowns a little. The creases vanish from her forehead as she answers. “I’m surprised you called me so quickly. Yes, of course I understand. Nobody would blame you for leaving.” Her eyes slide in my direction, then rest on the diamonds. She nods a few times. “No. I suppose expecting a child you never wanted would make things less tenable. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything. Sure, H. See you soon.”
She ends the call and turns to me with a smug expression. I want to claw her eyes out for talking about my baby like it’s a bothersome burden, but that’s the exact reaction she wants, so I cling to control. When Huxley said he’d talk with her, I thought he’d do so in the morning, when he arrived at the office. Guess he forgot.
She takes my elbow as though to help me up. She smells like the perfume from yesterday.
I pull away from her. The vile scent makes me want to puke in her face. “Nice perfume.”
“It’s my favorite. Huxley’s too.” She couldn’t sound sweeter.
“Is that so?”
“I could send you a bottle…” She looks at me intently, a corner of her mouth curving in a taunt.
Amusement and irritation sweep over me. She thinks she’s so clever, but she’s an amateur compared to the kind of crap Karie and Viv often pulled on me. Her plan is so transparent. Figure out a way to get the scent on Huxley and then wait for the fireworks. Actually, she’s probably curious as to whether I already exploded and when Huxley would become annoyed with me enough to argue and raise his voice. Or maybe she’s curious if he brought me here to smooth my ruffled feathers.
Or… maybe she’s hoping I’ll lose my temper with her right now and make a scene bad enough to embarrass Huxley. All she has to do is keep that I-didn’t-do-anything expression while I verbally berate her.
I maintain my bland fa?ade. “I don’t need a bottle to wear the perfume. The scent rubs off on me when Huxley takes me to bed.”
She flinches, red suffusing her cheeks. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“What? That you want to get fucked by my husband so bad you can’t pretend to be a half-decent assistant around me?”
The red on her face turns ugly. Her jaw tightens, and a war wages across her face briefly as she debates her next move. “He and I could be sharing the scent the same way as you.”
I smother a laugh. If she’d slept with Huxley, she wouldn’t be talking about some perfume. She’d be rhapsodizing about how amazing his piercing feels. “Then why do you look so pinched? A well-fucked woman should be glowing.”
She inhales sharply.
“I’ve tolerated you because my husband says you’re a good assistant. If you want me to continue to tolerate you, you’d do well to stop trying to bait me.”
“He never wanted you. He’ll never like you. The prenup says the baby is his. He’ll take it and leave you with nothing. Just because he can.”
This jab hits home. In the heat of the moment, I signed the contract without checking it thoroughly, infuriated that he was treating me like some gold digger when he was the one who asked me to be his fake fiancée in the first place. But what if there’s something about the baby? I didn’t expect him to want it, since back then he was questioning the paternity.
I school myself to hide my reaction. Madison might not know what’s in the prenup either, just making a wild guess, hoping it hurts. She won’t be getting the satisfaction.
“Nobody crosses him and gets away with it,” she adds. “And you entrapping him into a marriage he never wanted? You’ve crossed the Rubicon.”
“I don’t give a damn if I crossed the damn galaxy. I’m still his wife, and you’re just an assistant with an overblown sense of self-importance.”
She falters. Bet this wasn’t what she expected . She wanted to see me get jealous, pout and stew in insecurity.
“He set up a special trust to pay for my mother’s exorbitant medical bills.” My eyes flick around the jewelry store before I add in a smooth, in-charge voice, “He rented out this entire place just to buy me something pretty for our next evening out as a couple. He wouldn’t have spent a penny if he didn’t care about me, and you know it. So keep your mouth shut and drive me to my office like a good little assistant.”
* * *
Despite getting the best of Madison in our verbal smackdown, the interaction leaves a bad taste. The warm, effervescent sensation from spending part of my lunch break with Huxley is gone, replaced with irritation and annoyance that I was forced into an unacceptable position because of his continued leniency toward his assistant.
How can he not see she’s been panting after him all these years? That she can barely control her hostility toward me now?
It’s even more upsetting after his outrageous jealousy over Adam. My friend wasn’t anywhere near as obnoxious as Madison. Not to mention, after I asked him for space, he’s given it to me.
Now that I think about it, my rebuke to Adam was too harsh. Why should I give up my best friend because of Huxley’s unreasonable feelings, when he can’t respect my being upset with his obnoxious assistant?
I leave the office a little early, since I’m done with the day’s tasks, and head straight home. Huxley gave me a copy of the prenup after I moved, and I shoved it in a drawer in my vanity and never looked at it again.
I read the document with more care this time, my emotions calmer than when I signed it. The agreement says I am not getting a penny of Huxley’s money, now or ever, which is fine. It’s his money, and I didn’t do anything to help him build his fortune.
But there is a small subsection that says the baby’s custody will belong solely to Huxley. Madison’s words slide into my heart like hot blades. She was right .
How could I have missed this? Even if I was upset?
The possibility that Huxley would want to keep the baby didn’t really cross my mind. He was furious when I told him about the pregnancy, and my experience with Nelson taught me that men don’t want babies they have no emotional investment in. Karie is an important life partner from a proper family that could help Nelson, so the children he had with her mattered. But Mom was just a meaningless fling, and I was an inconvenience he wished had never existed.
But since then, Huxley’s attitude has changed. He said that he cares about the baby and me, and he will be present for the life we’ve created. And his actions have backed that up. He brought home that outlandishly lavish stroller and ordered bespoke onesies. It wouldn’t surprise me if hand-stitched baby booties arrived from Italy in the next few months.
I firmly believe what I told Madison. Men like Huxley don’t spend money and time on people who don’t matter. Our baby and I are on his list of priorities. I honestly don’t think he’s going to divorce me or do anything to hurt me or our child.
But did he feel that even when he had his lawyer draft the prenup? Probably not. He just wanted to take a baby he didn’t want to torment me.
I slowly rub my throbbing temples. I shouldn’t hold that against him, unless I see evidence that he still plans to do it. But I do hold him accountable for making me feel a chilling uncertainty about my future after he acted like he would like me to consider one with him in it, especially because it’s his damned assistant who keeps trying to sow doubt.
He can’t claim ignorance, because I already told him about Madison’s problematic attitude and conduct. What will it take for him to see what a snake she is and how unfair he’s being by indulging her? Frustration mounts as I fume, so I try some breathing exercises. Stress isn’t good for the baby.
When Huxley asked me to keep my distance from Adam after the latter crossed the line, I did. My husband ought to show me the same courtesy.
I shove the prenup back into the drawer. He isn’t a stupid man. Nor a hypocrite. But when it comes to Madison, he has a giant blind spot, whether out of habit or just the convenience of having a competent assistant.
Maybe I should give him a taste of the kind of disrespect I’ve been subjected to. After all, people gain better clarity when they’re the one suffering.