“Are you hungry?” My future husband asks simply, his eyes flickering around as though he’s taking in my presence in his sacred spot.
This is his bedroom after all, and I’m the guest who has pushed myself into his space.
I shift my feet, wary of becoming a burden. His house, his last name, his rules.
What was I getting myself into?
Before I could ponder out a careful response, my tummy responds for me with a loud, long rumble that makes the corner of the billionaire’s lips quirk upwards faintly.
“I suppose that’s a yes.” I finally mutter, putting a hand on my betraying stomach.
He smirks and nods, gesturing me towards the door, “I had Elliot whip us up something.”
“Elliot?” I gasp, “Your assistant is your cook too?”
“And extremely talented. He doesn’t cook every day for me, just on special occasions.”
Special occasions. My arrival was a special occasion.
It almost made my heart warm, but I was still skeptical. Maddox had been so aloof and cold for the past few hours, and I still didn’t know what had caused such a reaction.
We walk back down the stairs and through the main hall, where the sun has fallen lower behind the large glass doors of the dining room. Deep navy blues creep across the sky now, faint twinkling of stars dancing like diamond flecks.
The smell of fresh, homecooked food is almost overwhelming.
My stomach growls again, more ferociously this time, as Maddox pulls out a chair at the large wooden table and sits slowly beside me. In my faded shirt and old jeans, I hardly fit the splendor of such a wonderful place.
In fact, I don’t fit in at all.
“I’ve had clothes put in the closet for you.” Maddox says, reading my mind or my self-conscious glance down at myself, just as Elliot brings out red pepper soup with seared scallops, pushing the two small bowls of delicious looking soup before us.
The man scampers away before I have time to tell him how amazing it looks.
“Thank you.” I murmur back, shooting Maddox a glance.
Again, he’s not looking at me, gazing down into his soup with his spoon clutched in his hand. He looks like a robot, frozen without a purpose.
“I’ve also hired movers to go to your apartment tomorrow and bring over your things. If you aren’t satisfied with any arrangement here I can cancel them.”
“Noodle?”
“Elliot is going to retrieve your cat himself in the morning.”
“Did you warn him?” I ask, lowering my voice and scooting slightly closer. I don’t miss the way Maddox leans slightly back away from me, sending a pang through my heart.
Was I repulsive?
Then again, I hadn’t showered since sleeping for over twelve hours.
“About what?”
Maddox gazes at me with blank, beautiful eyes.
“That Noodle doesn’t like, well, anyone.”
“He liked me.”
“That was rare, Maddox!”
“I’m sure Elliot can handle it.” The billionaire shrugs, finally taking a soft sip of his soup.
We fall into silence once more, though every second is unbearable.
This distance had leapt up between us without warning, making me feel uncertain about everything.
I lift my soup spoon to my lips, letting the warm red broth soak my tongue. Spicy and sweet, it’s possibly the most amazing thing I’ve ever consumed in my life.
Or at least I thought that until he brought out the butter and white wine poached lobster.
“Oh my god, you eat this every day?” I gushed, the lobster melting on my tongue.
He glances at me sideways, “I told you that Elliot doesn’t cook for me every day.”
“What do you normally eat then?” I ask, closing my eyes and slumping against my chair.
Maybe, just maybe, even if Maddox did hate me this all would be worth it just for the food Noodle and I would eat while living here.
“Well on the other days my personal chef comes.” He shrugs, “Last night I had short rib ravioli.”
“Short rib ravioli?” I murmur dreamily, shaking my head, “I was just going to have half a boxed mac and cheese for dinner.”
“Mac and cheese.” He whispers after me, much like I’d worshiped his dinner.
I lift my chin curiously, gazing at him. He stares down at his lobster, squinting.
“You’d rather have mac and cheese, wouldn’t you?” I whisper, picking my jaw up off the floor, “What the hell?”
He glances at me, then away, his shoulders stiff.
“You want what you can’t have. Isn’t that right?”
Without answering, I only give a faint nod.
I suppose that’s the way it always goes.
But was a blue box of macaroni the only thing on Maddox’s mind right now?
~~
An hour later and we were once again staring at each other over the bed sheets.
I hug the long t-shirt closer around my body, checking the way it hangs down almost to my knees. A modest length, nothing exposed to the billionaire who is clothed only in a pair of crimson boxers.
The windows’ heavy drapes are still flung apart, the glow of the moon and the chandelier sending shadows down the ravines of Maddox’s chiseled abs.
You’re flawless, I want to say, but I don’t.
Finally, giving me one long look, he pulls back the heavy down comforter and glides between the sheets.
In the oversized king bed, there is plenty of room for both of us to lay without touching. In fact, I could probably stretch out for miles and wouldn’t find him. With my eyes closed, I could lost in the silken sheets.
Carefully, I slip under the covers as well, still watching him. He gazes at the ceiling as the chandelier light fades away, leaving us washed with nothing but the silver streak of moonlight across the floor. A cloud passes, shrouding us in pitch black.
By the time the moon shines again, Maddox’s eyes are closed and his body is stiff.
I know he doesn’t sleep, but I am not sure what to say or what to do, so in the end, I roll onto my back and close my eyes and feign relaxation as well.
Sleep does not come for me.
Whether it was the fact that I slept all day or the fact that I was in a new bed next to a new man, I can’t be sure. But either way, I can find no rest.
Every breath that Maddox takes and every twitch of his body in the sheets makes my eyes leap open.
I watch as the dark blues of night turn black then slowly lighten again. I watch as the moon creates a lazy path across the new room I share with my future husband. I watch as fuzzy golds begin to creep unsuspecting over the hardwood to pool in my lap.
Then there is an unexpected rustling downstairs.
Blinking, I carefully climb out of the bed so as not to rouse the sleeping man at the other end. He shifts, exhaling deeply in his sleep, as I pad across the room and out the door. The stairs don’t creak as I creep downwards to see a familiar, stocky man pressing a washcloth against his face.
“Elliot?” I say curiously, tiling my head.
“I got your cat.” Elliot huffs, a soft set of red marks gleaming from his neck and bicep as he turns and holds up a kitty carrier.
Inside, Noodle whips back and forth against the edges of the container.
“Oh, no!” I sigh, taking the carrier and holding it to my chest to calm the kitty inside, “He got you good, didn’t he?”
“Nah.” Elliot grins, “Cats love me. He barely got me at all.”
The nasty scratches say otherwise, but I wasn’t going to argue.
“Thank you, Elliot.” I grin, watching as he hobbles into the kitchen to make himself some much deserved coffee.
With a slow glance around, I settle onto the nearby couch, tentatively pulling open the door of the carrier.
Noodle instantly springs out into my arms, desperately nuzzling his face against my own, tail curling possessively around my wrist as I give him a gentle squeeze.
We were both out of place and scared for our future, I could tell that much.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper into his tiny striped ear, squeezing him one more time while he allowed me to do so. He nuzzles me again, meowing in response.
“We’ll get through this together.” I assure him, once again, scratching under his chin and cupping his face in my hands. He licks my hand as if to clean me of the strange scent of our new home, and over his head my eyes meet the billionaire’s.
He watches me silently from the hallway with the staircase, leaning against the wall.
It’s in that moment, looking into the shadows of his eyes and the crease in his dark brow, that I abruptly realize I am not the only one who has been unable to find the right words to say.
There are things both of us need to get off our chest.
Unfortunately, the wedding is right around the corner and neither of us will have the chance to speak our truths.