The Billion Dollar Girl

(Chapter 9)

 Ͼ Ella Castillo Ͽ

He chucked me a bag, and I blinked, catching it on reflex.

“Open it,” he said.

I blinked. The bag was plain, with simple writing and a logo on the side.

“Coca…Channel?” I read, frowning.

“Coco Chanel!”

I shot a glare at him, annoyed at his tone, but I peeked inside.

It was a sort of silky, purple material. I pulled it out. A dress. I looked up, at Ash’s eyes. He’d been watching my reaction.

“Oh,” I said, with mock enthusiasm. “You shouldn’t have. I love it. I really do.”

He flashed me a glare, before turning back to his phone – it’d just buzzed.

“Get changed,” he ordered. I grit my teeth. Any regular guy who ordered me to do anything, while tapping at his phone, would’ve been in a coma for six months. But him…the contract…

“Fine,” I said, holding the dress to my chest. Like the dresses before, it molded against my body perfectly.

I looked up again, raising my eyebrows. “Well, Ash? Aren’t you going to leave?”

“Why would I leave?”

“I’m getting changed.”

He smiled cockily. “We’re married, aren’t we?”

“What are you saying?”

“Well…” Ash said, slowly, trying to work out his words – even he seemed to have enough sense to was back out of this fight. “I’m just saying that…we’re husband and wife. We’re sharing a bedroom. It should be perfectly fine to –”

“No,” I said, firmly.

He quirked up an eyebrow. “We need to consummate the marriage, Ella.”

My cheeks burnt. “Where’s my bedroom?” I snapped, emphasizing the “my” bit. I rolled the dress up into a little ball, and shoved it back into my bag.

“Our bedroom?” he said, smirking a little. “Third door to the right of the hallway.”

I squeezed past Ash, desperately trying not to brush up against him. I jammed myself up against the wall, against a big picture frame that was dug into my back. I winced, much to Ash’s amusement. He was such a sadist. Couldn’t he move out of the way, just a little?

I stalked into our bedroom, and slammed the door closed hard enough for the sound to reverberate through our penthouse.

Our. Our, our, our. I had to say that stupid word. Do you know what? I hate “our”. Truth be told, I hate sharing – it sort of happened, when you were poor, and you barely had enough stuff for yourself, let alone share – words “our”, and “shared” made my blood pressure skyrocket.

I turned around, and stumbled back a bit. Oh my God.

The bed was the biggest bloody thing I’d ever seen.

I moved cautiously around it, eying it with suspicion. It was almost three times the size of myr old room. I sat on it, and the mattress wobbled – a water-bed. I ran my fingers through the soft duvet and pillows. Two pillows…

I bushed. Two. One for me, and one for Ash. We were meant to share the bed.

Oh, God…

I suddenly ripped my shirt off, desperate to get changed, and run the hell away from this room, and the frighteningly big bed…