An Arranged Marriage With Chace Crawford {Watty Awards Winner 2013}

Chapter 4

“Who is this Chace?” a snobby voice came from the blond beside him, who had reattached herself to him.

Before I could say ‘his wife’, Chace answered. “She’s a friend.”

I looked at him in disbelief. Friend, I was only a friend to him?

“Whose friend?” she said haughtily.

“My maid’s friend,” he blurted.

I gasped. “What the hell?” I screeched.

“Your maid’s friend? Why is she staying here? You aren’t sleeping with her are you?” she started to question him as if she was the wife.

“I would never sleep with… that,” he said with a disgusted look on his face as he looked at me up and down.

That was it. “Your maid’s friend huh? Why don’t you and your lying player ass tell that to your mother Chace. And there she thought that her son would become loyal for his wife.” I said venomously.

I stomped towards them and slapped the blond beside him. She cried out piteously and looked at me in shock.

“And this is what you get dear husband,” I said and slapped him and kneed him in the balls.

Damn, that felt good.

I walked downstairs with my head held high. Yes, I loved Chace but it didn’t mean that he was allowed to bring any hoe home. He was my husband, and he was going to take the responsibility of a husband –even if it is for a year. I hadn’t cried when I was three, and I wasn’t going to start to cry at the age of almost being eighteen just because my husband didn’t love me. Well, you got another thing coming Chace, I am going to make you fall for me hard, and you will love me, and only me.

My determination caused my anger, hurt and jealousy to simmer and I skipped happily towards the kitchen. There, I saw Marques, a twenty five year old chef with whom I had gotten along with in the Christmas holidays. He was a handsome man, no doubt and his cooking was the most delicious I had ever eaten. Ask him anything to make and he would make it. His blue eyes looked at his cooked food with pride and his tanned firm hands cut and mixed with elegance. A total stud muffin as he was, I only felt a brotherly bond with him even though he flirted with me. But because he flirted with every maid in the mansion, even the old ones, I knew that he too only liked me as a friend or sister.

“Morning Mark,” I chirped and settled myself on the rotating chair behind the kitchen bar.

He pushed his black hair away from his face. “Good morning cupcake,” he smiled, “What would you like to eat?”

I smiled. “Today, just give me some French toast,” I bit my lip, “And a cocktail.”

He nodded his affirmative and I started to look around the clean kitchen when the bell rang.