“Good,” was all I said, even as my hands continued to fidget in my lap.
I couldn’t help but be curious about what kind of life he led in the States. All I’d seen so far was that he clearly kept himself busy with his job. But that couldn’t be all he did. I knew he at least had some spare time because one thing I had managed to do on the plane was plug his name into a search engine and troll for him on social media.
Social media came up with nichego. Nothing.
He didn’t have a single account anywhere.
The Google search, however, had been far more informative. Apparently, what Nico did during his free time was date. Or at least, be seen with dates. Who knows, maybe he just screwed them after flashing a quick smile for the cameras and never saw them again.
Either way, there were hordes of women in his past.
Actresses, models, TV personalities, socialites, business executives…
You name it, Nico Rossetti had apparently done it.
Okay. So, my new husband was a manwhore whose only preferences seemed to be that the woman be beautiful and breathing.
Maybe he hadn’t been lying about his skills in the bedroom. I wasn’t a virgin by any means, but I had nowhere near the level of experience he seemingly did.
Not that I was planning on venturing into his bedroom anytime soon.
Or ever. Certainly not.
But it did make me wonder how he thought I measured up to all those other women. What his standards were and if I met any of them.
You don’t care. It doesn’t matter.
Before I knew it, we were pulling into a driveway and stopping in front of an absolutely breathtaking mansion.
Da. Yeah. I wouldn’t have to worry about space.
The place was huge. A cross between country French and Mediterranean architecture, the exterior had a combination of stucco and stonework that blended beautifully together. It looked surprisingly homey, which was entirely unexpected. I’d pictured him in a top-floor penthouse, bachelor style. A place like this required maintenance, upkeep. And it was completely impractical for a single man who traveled all the time.
When I followed Nico out of the car toward the front door, I realized I was actually excited to see my new home. I guess if I had to be kept in matrimonial bondage for a while, there were far worse places to be held prisoner.
“This is really beautiful,” I found myself saying because I couldn’t not. I was too jet-lagged to act petty anyway.
He looked like he didn’t know how to respond to that as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll get you the codes for the security system and the gate. There’s an app you can download so you can do it all from your phone.”
I frowned. He assumed I’d be regularly coming and going? “How am I supposed to get anywhere? I don’t have a car.”
Nico canted his head, appearing to mull something over. “I have several cars that will be at your disposal whenever you want to go somewhere. My driver can drive you around, of course. But if you wish to drive yourself, there are a few options to choose from in the garage.”
That lifted my spirits a tad. Maybe my confinement wouldn’t be as solitary as I feared.
Once he opened the door and led us inside, I couldn’t have been more taken aback. After learning of his male sluttery, I’d been imagining something akin to an 80s porno set. Tacky red carpet, animal print bedding and furniture, garish gold décor, and his personal brand of male everywhere.
But his home was…stylish. Relevant. Comfortable.
It looked like something I would design, honestly. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said that I’d picked out many of the furniture pieces myself. The hardwood floors were of the contemporary rustic style, wide planked and weathered. The living room with large windows overlooking the bay was decorated in attractive grays and nude tones with notes of rustic orange. The décor was minimal, yet tasteful. Few personal touches adorned the walls and surfaces, but there were some framed photos that I’d have to closely examine later.
And…the view.
“Spectacular,” I whispered to myself.
I felt Nico’s presence beside me at the windows, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the sight before me. The skyscrapers lining the horizon and bordering the bay. The Brooklyn Bridge bisecting the river, dividing the city. How often was he here to appreciate this view? Did he even appreciate it? Or did he take it for