Chapter 2 #2
The place had a lovely, old feel to it. Turning left, she wandered along the passageway until she came to a pair of double doors that were open and stepped into a sitting room that was twice the size of her old apartment.
Smiling in delight, she walked further in and took in the soft powder blue sofas, the thick cream rugs covering the hardwood floors and the lovely entertainment center.
The furniture gleamed in the recessed lights from the ceiling.
Drifting from the room, she walked into a bedroom that had her gasping in shock.
It was huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked over the dense wooded area.
And there was a wide window seat where she could sit and view the lake and the gazebo with vines twining through the slats.
More hardwood floors and plush thick cream rugs.
The closet was large enough for two queen-sized beds. There were mountains of shelves, already stocked, and a revolving space for hangers. A separate section showed shelves stacked with shoes and soft leather boots. Her mother-in-law had thought of everything.
She went into the bathroom next and almost wept with joy at the space and the large bath in the center of the room with a padded headrest and a tray where she could put a glass of wine while having her bath.
The marriage wasn't real, she had to keep reminding herself, but she had every intention of enjoying the benefits of being married to Brant O'Keefe.
She never had the hopeless dream of being rich.
Yes, when all the troubles started, she had started wishing and hoping she would win the lottery, and had half-heartedly purchased a couple of tickets, but had stopped after realizing that wasn't her.
Now she had this for about a year. She wasn't going to allow the weirdness of being married to a complete stranger to put her off from enjoying the benefits.
She had questioned her decision so many times over the few days, turning it inside and out and trying to justify accepting this kind of help she did not deserve, but had come to grips with the fact that she had no choice or no other way out.
Lowering herself to the wide lip of the tub, she looked down at the exquisite set of rings on her finger. The diamond shot prisms of light around the room, filling it with its brilliance. She would keep her shop, and her brother would get the help he desperately needed.
They had spoken during his period of lucidity, and he admitted that he was lost.
"You should give up on me, little sis." The hopelessness in his voice had wrung her from the inside out. "I've made a damn mess of my life, and you keep having to bail me out." He was thirty-two and looked ten years older. It broke her heart to see him like that.
"Never," she had told him with quiet reassurance.
Rising, she went back into the room and took the rest of the tour of the suite. She also decided to set up an office in the extra bedroom. There were things she wanted to do, and now she had the freedom to do them.
More travelling and sourcing for customers who came with their special orders. She would expand in order to store more things. She was going to buy custom-made jewelry. She had several clients in mind and had admired their art with the intention of setting up an account. Now that was possible.
Stepping back into the bedroom, she walked into the closet where there was a vanity and a mirror, in case she felt like getting ready in here instead of the bedroom.
Taking off the pantsuit she had worn to the wedding, she hung it up carefully and selected a thick pair of black leggings and a soft cream cashmere sweater.
Brant had not said whether he was staying home or not. But just in case, she slipped into the softest pair of ankle boots in midnight black.
She had just stepped back out when she heard the knock on the door.
"Come in." She stood there in the center of the room and just managed to keep herself from clasping her hands together as if she was standing in front of the principal.
The stranger she was married to looked more intimidating than Mr. Webber, the principal of her high school, and far more devastatingly handsome.
He had worn navy blue pants and a soft pink shirt with a matching jacket for the wedding and had not bothered with a tie.
His sable brown hair gleamed with health under the light from the ceiling.
"Just checking to see how you're finding everything." He tried to ignore the fact that she looked absolutely ravishing and that they were alone in her bedroom.
She smiled, and her dimple had his heart lurching. "Everything is wonderful. Are you going out?"
He shook his head. "I thought we could have dinner. There's a covered patio leading off the library. It has a fireplace and is quite cozy. Mrs. Holt left a meal in the warmer. I think it's lamb chops with baby vegetables, and there's a bottle of champagne and a cake."
Her tapered brows lifted.
"Cake?"
"A friend of mine is married to one of the best pastry chefs in the city. Her name is Althea..."
Her eyes widened. "Althea Drummond."
"She's now Althea McDermott," he said with a smile. "Her husband and I are members of the same club. She thought we might love the concoction of chocolate and raspberry."
"I'm already salivating."
"Shall we?"
"Yes." She crossed the room to join him, and they made their way out.
The library itself was a charming room, big enough to hold the many titles she was itching to explore.
It had a rolling ladder to gain access to the uppermost shelves.
There was also a small desk and chair as well as a desktop computer.
A sofa was tucked into a little curved space, with cushions packed tidily against each other.
He led the way through a glass door to an enclosed patio. To her delighted surprise, there was a fire blazing in the hearth. A table and four chairs were in the middle of the room.
"Have a seat. I'll be right back."
"I should help."
"No." He shook his head with a smile. "Just relax."
It was proving difficult to do in his overwhelming presence. He was a man, and she was a woman who had been without a man for more than three years. And he was a very handsome man and a magnetic one.
"Not a real marriage," she muttered to herself as she sat at the table.
Very soon she was caught up in the spectacular scenery.
The scent of the meal he brought out had her mouth watering.
Waving her back down when she started to get up, he laid the plates and the utensils down before popping the cork on the champagne.
She found herself laughing when he used his tongue to lick up the froth. Grinning at her, he poured generous amounts into the two glasses and handed one to her.
"What shall we toast to?"
He lifted a brow as he took his seat. "To solutions to problems, of course, and us tying the knot."
"Sounds good." She clinked her glass against his and sat back to dig into the food. "Your housekeeper is very good."
"She is," he agreed.
"How long has she worked for you?"
"Three years." He settled back to sip his champagne. "I started on this place five years ago, on and off when I was in town. I decided I wanted my own space, much to my mother's disapproval." He smiled slightly. "She wanted me to stay home. There was enough space, and I had my own suite."
"Was that where you grew up?"
"Yes. It's a few miles away from here. Palace Place. Very exclusive, very posh neighborhood." He shook his head contemplatively. "I decided I wanted a change."
"Does she still live there?"
He shook his head. "She couldn't bear to be there after my dad died. We sold the place, or rather the board did, just last year. She lives in one of the town houses we own, or the company owns."
"Has a doorman and concierge service. She actually likes it there and has friends that she hangs out with. They host book clubs and soirees." He laughed at her expression. "That's what they call it."
His smile faded. "After my dad died, nothing was ever the same again."
Picking up her glass, she took a sip and allowed the flavor to rest on her tongue before swallowing.
She could not believe she was sitting across from a man who was now her husband and actually having a conversation.
The night would not be the typical wedding night.
When the meal was over, they would retire to their separate suites.
But at least they were spending time getting to know each other.
The marriage might be over in a year, but at least she hoped they would remain friends.
"My dad turned out to be less than I thought he was," she found herself admitting.
"After he was shot, I discovered his diaries.
" She smiled bitterly and had to drink to get the taste out of her mouth.
"He was living a double life. Gambling and stealing.
" She forced her gaze to meet his. "I'm sure you know the whole truth of what went down that night. "
"It doesn't matter," he told her quietly, not caring to see the pain on her face.
"That's why I did not feel comfortable taking help from you. He was a fraud. I thought he had been a hero, stepping in front of a bullet. But it wasn't that." She shrugged.
"And your father was there to talk to him about some inconsistencies in the books. He had been stealing money and using a few vehicles to transport drugs across state lines. It was his way of trying to pay off his debts." She sighed softly.
"I was his princess. That's what he would call me, 'my princess.' He shattered my illusions when I found out the truth."
Reaching across, he touched her hand briefly. "We have this tendency to think of our parents as superheroes and less than human. They make mistakes, and I'm not condoning what he did, but I have a feeling he loved you."
The urge to move into his arms and beg for comfort was so great, she had to take some more champagne. Forcing a smile to her lips, she changed the subject.