in a tiny cottage in a small town, who pities those who are so fixated on material possessions. Tell me, am I looking at that same person now?”
“Charlotte…”
“Don’t you get it? Money can be a curse rather than a blessing. I want to be the one who cleans our bed sheets, knowing that I’m making our bed. I want to look at that and smile, reminiscing about all the wild sex we’re having on it. I want to be the one who cooks our meals, places the cutlery on our table knowing that it’s you who sits across from me at the dinner table, chatting about our day, and most importantly, I want to be the one raising our baby. I don’t want to miss a single milestone because it’s assumed the wealthy need a nanny. I want all the normal things, Lex. White-picket-fence type normal. A long time ago, I pictured you and me and our children. We led a simple life, and we were a family.”
“I pictured that, too, a long time ago.”
“Then, you know.” It isn’t a question, rather a fact.
I pull her into me, letting out a sigh. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry, Charlotte. I promise to be less controlling. We’re a family now, but there’s one thing you have to get used to.”
“What’s that?”
“We, and I emphasize we, are wealthy. It’s our money, Charlotte, not just mine, and because of that, we’ll always be in the public eye so outbursts like that need to remain behind closed doors.”
“I’m sorry. I forget you’re famous,” she mocks.
“Not famous, more high-profile, Charlotte, but there are a lot of people who want to see me fail, and that includes my relationship.”
She quietly runs her hands down my chest, past my abs until they linger at the buckle of my belt. Beneath my pants, I begin to stir. This woman will be the death of me.
“You are mine, they can all fuck off. Your cock belongs to me. It fucks me every day, sometimes twice a day, maybe three if I’m lucky. They can wish all they like, but this…” she says, sliding her hands into my pants, “… belongs to me.”
“Well, then, get down on your knees and suck the fucking cum out of it because I swear to God, Charlotte, it will only ever belong to you. And for the record, people in white-picket-fence houses don’t fuck like we do.”
“This makes us dirty, oh so very dirty,” she teases, while sliding down to take me all in, her eyes never leaving mine as her mouth wraps around my cock, and finally, we’re back to pure bliss.
***
After meeting Eric and Nikki and informing them of my intention to marry Charlotte, Adriana has doubled her annoyance level if that’s even possible.
Adriana: Are lilies OK?
Adriana: Do you prefer French script or Calibri for the font on the table cards?
Adriana: Lex, I really think you should invite our cousins from Australia.
This is only the tip of the iceberg.
At that point, I had my mother intervene, and then when that failed, I called in the big guns—Nikki. According to my secret spy, Eric, Nikki’s in charge of the bachelorette party. Payback is on her agenda. However, I’m always one step ahead of her. Despite her evil ways, she manages to control Adriana, and thankfully the messages stop.
The hardest part is trying to keep this all under wraps from Charlotte. I told her I needed to fly out to California for work, a partial lie which ends up being postponed because work takes priority. The purpose is to see Mark Mason and ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage. He doesn’t need to know we are already married. I do value my life, especially now that Charlotte is in it.
Who would have thought Lex Edwards—the traditionalist.
But so the guilt doesn’t eat away at me, I decide to finally have a meeting with one of the top production companies in LA looking for an investor.
We are sitting on the couch watching mindless television when I sense something is off with Charlotte. “Is something wrong?” I ask, placing my laptop aside.
“I’m fine.”
Fuck, typical woman response which means something.
“Okay, then… we can waste time by me dragging it out of you, or we can talk about it and then get naked all night.”
She lets out a small laugh, the smile enough for me to know that it isn’t something major.
“I’ll miss you,” she simply says.
So that’s it—separation anxiety. I don’t blame her. We have only been officially