to fall asleep. Everything was too quiet; there was no shouting going on outside in the middle of the night, no cars coming and going in the car park, no music playing in another apartment. Carson’s house was utterly silent. I hated it.
I’d laid there awake for hours, going over everything that had happened, mulling over just how much my life had changed in the space of twenty-four hours. Thinking about being Carson’s wife made me so confused I didn’t even know what to think anymore. I wanted to be his wife more than anything in the world; I wanted the life he painted for us, the four of us together with him spoiling Rory and Sasha to the point of ruin. At the same time, I hated the thought of being his wife. He didn’t love me; therefore, he would continue with his playboy act, humiliating both me and Sasha. I had no idea how I was supposed to cope with seeing pictures of him with other girls. Sasha would be old enough to understand at some point. No doubt she would end up resenting him more in the long run; his antics would tarnish the whole family name and end up embarrassing her, too.
I could almost see it; my life was going to be one long and painful, humiliating Hell. People would look down their noses at me everywhere I went. I would be the one who couldn’t satisfy her celebrity husband and let him walk all over her with anything female. I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it other than stand and watch for fear of losing my daughter. I would be a laughing stock, and the worst thing was part of me still wanted that because I loved him so much. I seriously was a worthless piece of shit.
Sadness ate me up to the point where I’d cried so much that my tears had dried up and I’d laid there a hiccupping, soggy mess. I thought I’d hit a depressing low when I was pregnant and alone, but this low, this was lower than I ever thought possible. I felt kind of dead inside, like my heart had been broken irrevocably and nothing would ever be able to fix it.
When I woke in the morning, my eyes stung with tiredness. The sounds of banging and drilling filled my ears, so I sat up, confused for a second where I was before I remembered the finer details of my predicament. My gaze settled on the alarm clock, and I was shocked to see it was past ten in the morning. I hadn’t slept in this late since I’d given birth almost two years ago.
I sat in bed for a long time, just listening to people crashing around in the room next to mine, people talking and relaying instructions. When I couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on any longer, I pushed myself out of bed and looked around for something I could get changed into. I’d fallen asleep in my clothes last night, so I was sure to look an absolute mess. I had no idea where Carson had put my bin bag full of possessions, though. After not finding my own bag, I ventured through the door Carson had said was the wardrobe. My eyes widened in shock. Rows and rows of expensive, designer clothes hung in colour-coordinated lines along both sides of the room. Although there were probably enough clothes for him to wear something and then discard it, there was still plenty of rack space so I’d be able to fit my small, limited wardrobe inside, too.
My hand reached out, touching the sleeve of a charcoal grey suit which hung there. My mind was already imagining what Carson would look like decked out in such finery; I’d never seen him in a suit before. His rack of jumpers caught my attention, so I walked over, choosing a black hoodie at random. Shrugging out of my crumpled T-shirt, I pulled his hoodie on before smoothing back my hair and attempting to tidy it.
The banging grew louder as I crept out of my room. I stopped in the doorway of Sasha’s new bedroom, seeing Carson plus two workmen, all working to put her furniture together and make her room safe. I hadn’t even heard them arrive.
They were already halfway through arranging her room with exquisite, white wood furniture. In the corner of the room sat the most beautiful chair I had ever seen in my life. It was an armchair, but the arms and back of it were made entirely from old-fashioned teddy bears. It was stunning, and my hand was itching to touch it and feel how soft it was.
My eyes suddenly settled on Carson. He was on his knees, hammer in hand, screws precariously placed between his lips as he frowned down at the instructions on how to assemble a changing table. Without my consent, a smile crept onto my lips because his cute little bewildered expression caught me off-guard and made my heart stutter.
“Excuse me, Miss.”
I jumped as someone spoke behind me and sidestepped the doorway. “Sorry,” I muttered, watching as two men carried in a seven-foot-tall toy giraffe. As they passed me, a little tag fluttered to the floor at my feet. I stooped quickly, picking it up. My eyes widened and a strangled choking sound came from the back of my throat when I saw the price of the giraffe was just under a thousand pounds.
Carson noticed me then. “Hey, sorry, did we wake you?”
I gulped, swallowing my shock and horror that he’d spent that much money on a stuffed toy. I looked up at him, fiddling with the tag absentmindedly. An extremely-uncomfortable sensation crept over me because I realised I was standing there in one of his jumpers after I’d cried in front of him last night and told him to get it over with and rape me if he was going to. I didn’t know whether to mention it and apologise or not.
“No, I…” I smiled politely as one of the giraffe guys, now empty-handed, walked back out of the room picking up a bag full of plug socket covers. “I had to get up sooner or later,” I finished. “You guys look busy,” I muttered, eyeing the beautiful cot the two men were in the middle of assembling.
Carson nodded. “Hopefully won’t be too much longer now.” He set down his hammer and pushed himself to his feet. “If you’re hungry, there’s food downstairs,” he offered, motioning toward the hallway and stairs.
Not wanting to stand there and watch while they worked, I nodded in agreement and headed downstairs towards where I remembered the kitchen being. On the way, I bypassed several other workers all fixing plug covers, stair gates, and screwing furniture to walls so it couldn’t tip over if little people started climbing on it. It seemed as if everything had been thought of. There was even a storage van parked outside, and people were carrying out Carson’s glass furniture, inappropriate ornaments and knickknacks to be stored. Clearly Carson had been busier on the laptop last night than what I’d thought because he’d managed to get everything under control. The house would be shipshape for a two-year-old in no time.
As I stepped into the kitchen, I came to an abrupt halt as my eyes landed on a petite, grey-haired lady busy taking cinnamon swirls out of the oven. My mouth instantly watered as the smell wafted up. Her eyes widened for a second before a lovely, warm smile graced her ruby-red painted lips.
“Emma?” she inquired, setting the tray of yumminess down on the side. I nodded, not having a clue who this woman was. Her smile grew larger. “Aww, it’s lovely to finally meet you. I’m Gloria, Carson’s housekeeper.” She waved toward one of the stools that sat on the other side of the counter to where she was cooking up a storm. “Sit. Eat, before all those men traipse in and take all the good stuff,” she encouraged, pushing an empty plate toward me and nodding at the array of things she had set on the side. I opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it. “So, Carson tells me this morning that you two have a child? A little girl, and she’s coming to live here? I just love children! I can’t wait to meet her. What kind of things does she like to eat? I’m going to make up a little tea for her so she can have all of her favourite things when she comes here. Obviously, it’ll be a bit of a change for her. Where were you living before? Was it far?” She grinned at me expectantly.
I swallowed, blinking at the number of questions being fired at me in one go. If there was a contest for who could say the most words in the space of a minute, this woman would win, hands down. But I actually loved it. Her easy smile and kind eyes made me feel perfectly at ease as I picked up a freshly-baked croissant and set it on my plate.
“Um… well, she likes anything really, so don’t go to any trouble. I mean, I can cook, so you don’t need to.” I chewed on my lip, not used to being waited on.
She made a scoffing noise in the back of her throat and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s my pleasure. Plus, I get paid to cook, so if you take over then you’ll be doing me out of a job,” she chimed in, winking at me playfully. A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. I hadn’t thought of it like that. “So, maybe I should bake a cake or something?” she continued.
I shrugged, picking at the edges of my croissant. “You really don’t have to go to any trouble.”
Before she could answer, I heard someone walk in behind me. Gloria smiled over my shoulder affectionately. “She’s a sweetie pie all right,” she stated to the newcomer.
I flicked my eyes over in time to see Carson walk in and nod at the statement. “Told you she wouldn’t want any fuss,” he replied, pulling out the stool next to mine and sitting down, snagging a plate and quickly filling it with one of everything from the counter. I squirmed in my seat. I had never expected to be sitting next to Carson having breakfast. It was strange, kind of a nice strange, but awkward at the same time because I knew he didn’t truly want me here. I just came as an extra part to my daughter.
He looked up then and caught me staring at him. A sad smile twitched at the corner of his lips. “Don’t go on Twitter today, all right?”
Confused by his words, I recoiled. “Why not?” I didn’t even have a Twitter account, mainly because my cheap-as-they-come phone didn’t even go on the internet.
A frown lined his forehead as he looked down at his plate. His shoulders hunched and a muscle in his jaw twitched before he answered. “The statement has gone out to the press now about us. There’s some stuff on Twitter about… well, it’s not nice stuff.”
‘Not nice stuff’. I had no idea what that would mean. I raised one eyebrow in prompt. “Not nice?”
He sighed and looked up to Gloria who nodded in encouragement. Finally, he turned to face me. “It seems the Twitter-world is under the same impression as my mother. They think you’re after my money. There’s a worldwide trend at the moment of Carson’s gold-digger.”
Anger built in my stomach. Not anger at the people who were trending – whatever that meant – about me being a gold-digger, but anger at Carson. This was his fault. People who had never even met me were now making assumptions about me because of his ridiculous demands. I pushed my plate away from me, no longer hungry.
“That’s just perfect,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I hate this. Seriously, this is your fault, Carson! Why the hell are you making me do this? It’s stupid!”
“Look, this is what happens occasionally. I do something they don’t like, and my Twitter feed blows up with shit and abuse. It’s just part of this life. You’ll get used to it,” he reasoned. He sounded a little exasperated about it, as if maybe he was sick of having to deal with abuse, too. Maybe being a celebrity wasn’t all champagne and roses.
“I won’t get used to it,” I countered.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Just don’t look at it and don’t respond. Rise above it. My stupid little fan-girls are just pissed because they now realise I’m off the market. They’re annoyed at you for ruining their chances.”
Even though I didn’t want it to, a little thrill went through me at the words ‘off the market’. That kind of insinuated he wasn’t going to creep around behind my back with them, didn’t it? A small part of me dared to hope.
“Well, they’re welcome to you,” I retorted, trying to appear aloof when my words had never been more dishonest. “Maybe I should go tell everyone I don’t even want to be here and that you’re forcing me to marry you because you’re scared of your daughter not liking you! Maybe then they’ll stop hating me for taking you off the market, huh?”
Gloria gasped at my outburst. “Carson, but… but… you said this was a mutual thing,” she blurted.
I snorted, pushing myself up from the seat. “It is, if you call mutual blackmail into getting married, otherwise he’ll take me to court and take my daughter away from me!” I ground my teeth, watching as her eyes latched onto Carson who didn’t look so confident about his decision now.
Her mouth popped open. “Oh, Carson, you didn’t!”
He frowned, ignoring her as he slammed his hand on the counter and shook his head, turning to me. “Stop making this hard, for fuck’s sake. Get over it already and just be fucking grateful you now have everything people dream about.” His steely glare bore into me as he spoke.
Words failed me. My mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out as I struggled to comprehend exactly how crazy he actually was. Apparently, he was expecting me to be grateful to him for forcing this life on me, disregarding what I wanted and taking away all my choices, free will and liberty.
He blew out a hefty breath, looking away from me as he gripped his hand into the back of his hair. “You hate me, I know,” he muttered sarcastically.
I shook my head. The most pathetic thing about me at that moment was when I realised I would never be able to hate him because I loved him too damn much.
“I’m not hungry anymore. It was lovely to meet you, Gloria.” I turned on my heel, needing to escape before the tears came. Behind me, I could hear his housekeeper laying into him on my behalf. I silently prayed she would drum some sense into him.
FOR THE NEXT TWO HOURS, I sat on the bed with my knees pulled up to my chest. My heart hurt. My tears had stopped over an hour ago. My emotions were now just resigned to the fact this wasn’t going to change and I was trapped.
When a knock sounded at the door, I wiped my puffy face and went to answer it. As I pulled it open, Carson stood there, awkwardly kicking his toes against the expensive carpet. “Everything’s done now. Maybe we should go and pick up Sasha and Rory?”
Not having the energy to argue anymore, I nodded, turning back and picking up my mobile phone and handbag from the side where I’d left them. The house was quiet as we walked through it. Lots had changed since I came in yesterday. Half of the furniture was now gone – stored somewhere, no doubt, because it was mostly sleek glass or expensive-looking china. Every socket was plugged with little plastic covers, and stair gates were fixed at the top and bottom of the sweeping staircase, ruining the beautiful effect of it.
Wordlessly, I followed him to the interior door and down the staircase, which led to his garage. Instead of going to one of the sleek sports cars, he pressed the key to a massive black off-roader. To me, it looked a little like a monster truck. When he opened the passenger door for me, I had to climb to get onto the brown-leather bucket seat. A child car seat was already placed in the back. He certainly had thought of everything, it seemed.
“So, where am I going?” he asked as he started the engine.
After giving him the address and some basic directions to Lucie’s flat, I slumped down into my seat as he searched for her address on the satellite navigation system. When the garage door opened, my eyes widened as I spotted a few reporters camped outside the gates to his house. They all jumped up, snapping photos and shouting questions through the tinted-glass windows.
“They can’t see in, don’t worry,” Carson assured me, turning carefully into the street as the reporters surrounded the car, still shouting their questions and asking for a quote.
“Why are they still hanging around here? Hasn’t the story already broken? What more could they possibly want?” I asked incredulously.
He shrugged. “We’re big news right now, Em. They have to make money somehow.”
I huffed and folded my arms over my chest, knowing another outburst from me would do no good. Clearly Gloria the friendly housekeeper hadn’t been able to make him change his mind, either. Silence weighed heavily on me as I stewed inside, wondering how long this attention surrounding us would last. I had work tonight – would they follow me there asking for an exclusive quote, too? I hoped not.
“What do I do if the reporters are at the club tonight? Do I call Mason?” I asked, chewing on my bottom lip.
Carson snorted and shook his head. “You’re not going to the club.”
I raised one eyebrow at the sternness in his tone. “I am. I have work tonight. I can’t pull a sickie two nights in a row, Jason will be pissed.” I didn’t want to lose my job. Although I hated doing it, it was the only source of income I had.
“You don’t work there anymore. I’ll sort it out.” He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road as he spoke. “I can’t let you do that anymore, I’m sorry.”
I almost choked on air as I gaped at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “The press would crucify us if you carry on doing that. It’s not exactly a respectable job, is it? Now that you’re in the public eye, things will need to change.”
“Not respectable enough for a celebrity’s fiancée, you mean?” I spat. He shook his head but didn’t look at me. “It was respectable enough for you to get your kicks with, though, huh? A lap dancer isn’t exactly marriage material, though, is she? I guess you have to think of your image and what other people think of you.” I ground my teeth in frustration at the disrespect. “What happened to the ‘I don’t care what you do, you’re Emma Bancroft to me’ shit you spouted last week?” I asked acidly. Talk about double standards! “My job was all right when you were just after a casual fuck, but now all of a sudden I’m not good enough?”
“I never said you weren’t good enough!” he snapped, glaring at me before turning his attention to the road again. “I just can’t have you do that job if we’re getting married.” He shook his head forcefully as he pulled into an empty space outside Lucie’s block of flats. “I don’t want to argue with you anymore. I’m done. You no longer work there. End of.”
“‘End of’? Are you shitting me?” I gasped, watching as he opened the door and climbed from the car, slamming it so hard the whole car shook. I laughed incredulously as he walked around to my side of the car and opened the door for me, silently motioning for me to get out. I held my ground, shaking my head in rejection. “I’m not done. No ‘end of’,” I stated firmly.
He sighed deeply, watching as a couple of cars pulled into the car park, screeching to a halt before the same reporters from his house sprang out and started running toward us. “I don’t really want them to witness this domestic and have it spread all over the front page tomorrow. If you could just put on your happy face and smile, that’d be great.” He smiled at me, but it was forced and didn’t reach his eyes, which instead held a silent warning.
Knowing I had to play along, I forced a smile as well and took the hand he was holding out to me, letting him help me from the car. By the time I was on my feet, we were surrounded and the clicking of cameras filled my ears. Carson’s shoulders seemed to loosen now that I was playing along. As he closed the car door, he bent forward and, before I could even guess what was about to happen, his soft lips covered mine. The kiss lasted no more than a second, and I didn’t even have time to react and kiss him back before it was over. The excited buzz around me clearly signalled the one-second kiss was enough for the reporters, though. They would have the picture they wanted.
I gulped as Carson’s hand tightened on mine, pulling me against his side as he turned to the reporters. “We’re now going to pick up our daughter. If you print a picture of her, or Emma’s brother, then I’m going to sue your arses for every penny you have. Just a friendly warning,” he said sternly. The authority in his tone made the hair on the nape of my neck stand up. Without waiting for a response, he turned and stalked into the building, tugging me along behind him.
Once we were alone, I pulled my hand from his, ignoring how his face fell and his eyebrows knitted together. I didn’t mind putting on an act for the cameras if we needed to, but there was no way I was belittling myself like that in private.
I stopped walking. “I’m not done talking about this. I need to work.”
“Not there you don’t,” he answered forcefully.
I groaned in frustration, throwing my hands up in the air. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do for money? I don’t exactly have a line of people queuing up to offer me a job!” I snapped.
His hands fisted into his hair. “You don’t need to worry about that anyway. I have more than enough. Over the next week, I’ll sort out a bank account card and stuff for you. There’s no need for you to work.”
The air suddenly became thicker, feeling like it was choking me. Trapped. Now I was totally and utterly trapped because I’d never have the money for a way out if I didn’t work. “So, I’m just supposed to be a good little housewife, relying on her husband like someone out of the forties? Times have changed, Carson. Women don’t have to do that now; they can work if they want to!”
“You’re in full-time education, Emma. You’re a student. That and looking after Sasha is enough for a job, surely,” he countered, eyeing me cautiously. “I’m not saying you can’t ever have a job. Just finish your university course and then you can work wherever you want. You don’t need to be working in that place anymore.”
“Maybe I like working there. Did you ever think of that?” I countered, folding my arms over my chest and raising one eyebrow in question.
He scoffed and shook his head. “Do you?” he snapped. “You really like dancing for guys and having them leer at you while you parade around in hardly any clothes? You really like going into the backroom for sex?”
“Yes, actually!” I answered before I could even think it through. He recoiled, clearly shocked by my answer. It was then that I realised my answer only related to half his question. A frown lined my forehead as I backtracked. “No, I don’t like dancing for guys, of course not. It’s… There are parts of my job I hate, but others I actually lived for.” I chewed on my lip. “The best part of my job was you.” I hated to admit it, but it was the truth.
Silence filled the hallway as my face flamed with heat.
“Well, then you have no reason to go there anymore, do you? You have me full-time now,” he answered. The hair on my arms prickled at his words. My heart swelled in my chest because that was the first kind-of-nice thing he’d said to me for the last two days. But then he had to carry on speaking and my hopes, which were only just starting to take flight, came crashing down to my feet again. “Besides, I’d much rather watch you dance in the bedroom anyway.” A cocky little smirk crept onto his face as his eyes sparkled playfully. Maybe he was joking, I didn’t know, but his words cut me deeply, reminding me that I would never escape this stigma. I would never forget what I was, because he saw that every time he looked at me.
“Screw you,” I whispered. My chin wobbled as my stomach twisted in a knot. Needing to be away from him, I turned and marched up the stairs.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I can’t say anything right, can I?” he muttered dejectedly.
Lucie’s flat was on the sixth floor, and her apartment block was slightly nicer than mine. The walls of the stairwell were painted an ugly grey, but at least they weren’t covered in graffiti tags and crudely-scrawled notes about who had slept with whom and who needed to die, like mine were. I didn’t speak to him again as I stomped up the stairs and stopped outside my best friend’s door.
When the door swung open, Lucie smiled at me warmly before stepping forward and engulfing me in a much-needed hug. I sighed and closed my eyes, feeling my shoulders relax as she patted my back supportively. “Oh, baby doll, are you okay? Did you sleep? You look terrible!” she asked as she pulled back and regarded me with her motherly concern she used on her kids.
I forced a smile and shrugged. “I’m okay.” That was a lie. I was far from it, but I didn’t want to talk about it with Carson watching my every move. “Where’s Sash and Rory?”
Lucie stepped back and waved me in, looking at Carson with tight eyes. I could tell he’d gone down a peg or two in her estimations after this. “They’re in the living room.”
As I looked toward the door, Rory stepped out, closing it firmly behind him. I sighed and relaxed a little more. It felt nice to be around familiar surroundings and people. He strutted toward me quickly and I smiled, opening my arms for a hug. Only, I noticed too late that he wasn’t looking at me, and he certainly wasn’t smiling.
He stalked forward, and before I could open my mouth and tell him not to do what I knew was coming, he raised his arm and threw his fist straight into Carson’s face.