Paul collapsed in the back of the private car, glancing up at Jose, who was scarfing a medium-sized burrito from the local taco truck. Sauce dribbled down his chin.

“Sorry, boss,” Jose said. “It’s just I’m so hungry. I’ve been driving around your new wife and your daughter all day. From the museum to the park to the bridge to…” He trailed off, rolling his eyes. “The girls, it’s like they’ve known each other for ages.”

Paul shifted in his seat, feeling a moment of pure joy rise within him. He’d never seen his daughter bond with anyone, outside of their father-daughter relationship, as she’d always been shy, caught in her own world. He hated that he was stuck at work so often, especially in these first few days, as his father was showing him the “ropes,” so to speak, of being the CEO. While there, he had the feeling that Jack’s eyes were upon his back continually, making notes on his every move—anything to report to Elena when he returned home. It was driving him mad.

Back home, Jose dropped Paul on the sidewalk in front of the high-rise and then skirted down the road, his burrito still hanging between his lips. Paul sauntered into the building, giving a smile to his doorman, and then swept up to the loft, finding Brittany and Lea stretched out across the living room floor, both drawing a bouquet of flowers Brittany had picked up from the florist.

It was a gorgeous scene: this beautiful, blonde stranger, who Paul had to remember, every single day, was his wife, and his daughter, similarly blonde, yet smaller, fine-boned. She leaped into the air to hug him, causing his heart to burst against his chest.

“Looks like the two of you had another spectacular day,” Paul said, holding his daughter close and gazing into Brittany’s eyes.

Brittany gave him a soft smile back. As she collected the papers on the ground, Lea spoke with him excitedly, telling him all the wonderful things she and Brittany had done that day, all the things she’d learned. As Paul reacted, finding himself begin to crumple from all the anxieties of the day, the doorbell rang.

“One moment,” Paul said, adjusting his suit jacket and marching toward the door. With a firm motion, he opened the door to find Elena on the outside, her arms crossed like swords over her chest.

“Paul,” she boomed.

“Elena.”

“I’m here to collect Lea,” Elena said.

“You said you wouldn’t be doing that till tomorrow.”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind. Care to call the lawyer about it?” Elena entered, snapping her fingers toward her daughter. “Come on, Lea. Grab your things. We’re out of here.”

Without a moment’s pause, Lea raced to her room, looking dutiful, perhaps understanding that making a mistake in front of her mother meant something akin to disaster. After she disappeared, Brittany rose up, giving Elena a soft wave of her hand, as Paul continued to lace his eyes up and down her, wondering what smarmy comment she was going to say next.

“Enjoying newly married life, are you?” Elena asked then, pointing her eyes directly toward Brittany.

“Absolutely,” Brittany whispered, shifting uncomfortably.

“I remember it well, those first few days with Paul,” Elena said. “You know, it occurred to me, that I don’t know how the two of you met? Was it here in New York?”

Brittany stuttered slightly, looking aghast. Paul mopped up the awkward silence. “We met at a coffee shop. She was in the corner, reading Faulkner, and you know—I just can’t get enough of southern American literature.” He winked toward Brittany, hoping she would play along.

“And then, it was magic from there?” Elena said, her voice all sharp edges.

“Of course.”

Not willing to give her another moment of digging, Paul and Brittany busied themselves in the kitchen, pouring glasses of wine, without offering one to Elena, and then waved goodbye, each of them giving Lea a kiss on the forehead. With the final clip of the door, Paul reached forth and gripped Brittany’s thin-boned shoulder, sighing heavily.

“Jesus. You’ve done so much for me the past few days.”

“What else was I going to do?” Brittany asked, laughing slightly. Her eyes shone with the pleasure from the compliment.

“Well, I’d like to take you out. Go put on something fancy. Meet me out here in 30 minutes. You deserve it.”

Paul asked Jose to drive them uptown, where his old friend from prep school had recently opened a high-class French restaurant. As Paul was one of the most important people in New York, he was immediately given an intimate room, for him and his new wife. He watched, with a tinge of jealousy, as his friend Pierre kissed Brittany’s hand in greeting, making her blush.

Did Paul want to make her blush? Did he want to make love to her? Was it his right, despite already saying this was a marriage of convenience?

She did look stunning. She’d chosen a dark yellow dress, which dipped far down her breasts, showing immense cleavage. Blinking up at him from over the menu, she asked him a question about wine, which he answered without fully comprehending it. He was lost in the sea of her deep brown eyes.

“Have you missed your old life at all since you came to live with me?” he asked her then, for the first time considering her feelings.

Brittany hesitated, drawing her eyes to the table. “That’s a tricky question. I definitely don’t miss being broke. And I can’t wait to go back to class…”

“But living with me. Has it been—“

“It’s been good,” Brittany said, her voice meek.

He wasn’t certain he truly believed her. But as the night stretched forth, he found himself asking her more intimate questions, drawing closer to her, learning about her family and her past. In return, he showed her a bit of his personal side as well—about how he’d been burned by Elena, all those years before. About how he’d rather spend an entire year on a boat than ever go back into an office again (but that he was committed to showing his parents that he respected their wishes).

By the end of the first course, they were holding hands across the table, gazing half-drunkenly into one another’s eyes.

And by the end of the night, they were kissing upon their terrace at home, their bodies pressed tightly together. Easing his hand down the small of her back, Paul brought it over the perfect crest of her ass, trying to memorize her form. Breaking the kiss, he gazed down at her slim body, then began to remove her dress, working slowly, evenly, so as not to frighten her. Her gorgeous body, with those pert breasts, that slim waist, revealed itself, and he pressed her against the side of the terrace, wrapping his lips around her nipples and gliding the tongue across the hard point. She gasped, drawing her hands over his head.

Parting the perfect, pink pussy lips, he pressed his fingers into the dark wetness between her legs, watching her face as it changed to one of complete and utter pleasure. After a long moment, she reached forth and removed his belt, undoing his pant button and easing his thick staff into the air—gasping at its incredible size. Falling to her knees, she wrapped her tongue around the edge of it, then proceeded to give him a soft, earnest blowjob—coiling her tongue around and around its girth.

Suddenly, Paul wrapped his hands around her waist, lifting her from his cock and raising her into the air. He carried her, like a child, to his bedroom, slipped her against the mattress, and then tugged the rest of his clothes from his body. He made love to her, then: slipping his dick into the softness between her legs, and feeling her pert breasts against his muscled chest. Crying out for him, she eased her nails into his back muscles, closing her eyes, as his rapid motions into the deep caverns of her body caused her to orgasm, over and over again.