"I don't think I like him." I told Stefan as I settled into the front seat of his black Rover.
He chuckled, starting up the engine that purred to life. "It's just been two days. You'll get used to him soon. He isn't a bad guy."
I snorted as I strapped on my seat belt. "He's a dick and I think he hates me."
My mind drifted to last night and this morning. Maybe he just didn't like me. Maybe I wasn't his type. He seemed like one of those egoistic rich men who surrounded themselves with submissive Barbie blondes eager to lick their ass crack and worship their bodies for a stack of cash.
I didn't belong with their kind. We were an odd match. Men like him were a league apart from girls like me, and the ten-year age gap only emphasized the disparity.
Stefan maneuvered out of the driveway and into the boulevard. "Come on, Cookie, he doesn't hate you. He's like that to everyone. Give it time. I'm sure he's just having a hard time coming to terms with living with a stranger."
"And you think I'm not?" I blew out air and folded my arms over my chest. "I can't imagine how anyone tolerates him. How do you even work with him?"
It seemed impossible for anyone to work for him without losing their sanity.
Stefan shrugged. "I happen to understand him. He's chill once you get to know him."
"It's easy for you to say because you're a people person. I'm not, and one of these days I might get arrested for pushing him off the 30th floor." I huffed. "No wonder no woman wants to be with him. If I didn't need the money, I'd be out of there faster than I stepped in."
A deep chuckle eluded his throat. "Was he that awful to you?"
I considered telling him the full story of how I was choked and carried like a rag doll but I stopped myself and exhaled instead. "Talking about him is giving me a headache, let's talk about something else."
"Like your wedding this week?"
I groaned. "God no, don't remind me."
He laughed. "Bet Ax would be most elated to see you finally getting married."
"If it were real."
Stefan stopped at a red light and turned to me. "Did you plan on telling your family?"
I shook my head. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. I signed a non-disclosure contract, plus my mum would freak, and Axton would be disappointed that I turned marriage into a business deal."
"Bet. He always wanted you to have the best of everything, and that includes the best spouse."
"Ax raised me better than this. I've wronged him in so many ways already. I'm just going to keep this to myself. This way no one gets hurt in the end."
"Fair."
"I still don't know how I plan to coexist with Tristan for six months tho."
"Just give him space," he advised with a warm smile. "He loves his space."
"Yeah, I'm going to give him as much space as I can." I replied with a sigh and relaxed against the seat.
I wasn't going to let my emotions ruin what I had going. The universe had given me an opportunity of a lifetime with this deal and I was going to keep my eyes on the price. Fuck everything else.
About an hour later, I stood in front of the mirror, drinking my reflection with a mix of awe and exhaustion.
The whole day had been a whirlwind - from the shopping spree to the beauty treatments Stefan insisted on. A team of aestheticians poked and prodded at me, transforming my appearance into something unrecognizable.
I ran my hand down the crimson cocktail dress. It was tailored to perfection with a low-cut neckline simply created to devastate men as it outlined the curve of my breasts and showcased the upper swell of my healthy cleavage. The hem ended mid-thigh, revealing my smooth, waxed legs.
I sighed. The woman staring back at me was polished, refined, and utterly foreign. The makeup was immaculate, highlighting features I rarely paid attention to before. My hair was styled into an elegant ponytail, a far cry from my usual messy waves.
A surge of anxiety washed over me as I took in the unfamiliar version of myself. I never imagined that being married to a billionaire, even if only in pretense, could be this stressful. It was perfect, though. I was beautiful; like a woman ready to conquer the world.
When I decided my look was acceptable enough, I moved away from the mirror and pushed my bare feet into my high-heeled black pumps.
For my final touch, I grabbed the engagement ring that I had taken off for my manicure and slid it onto my finger. It was then that I heard the soft rapping of knuckles against my door.
"You can come in."
As I had suspected, Keith walked in. "Sienna, Mr. Larsen is..." He started but trailed off, his eyes dilating.
I ran a nervous hand over my dress, fraught with shyness. "Is there a problem? Is it too much?" I asked, beginning to feel a little silly.
He shook his head quickly, flustered. "No, no, not at all. You're beautiful, absolutely stunning."
A small thrill zipped through me. "Thank you, Keith," I said.
He smiled. "Mr. Larsen is waiting for you."
Right. Better get going before that big brute comes to hurl me over his shoulders again.
"Okay." I grabbed my clutch purse and followed him out.
Nervousness crept in as we walked through the hallway and descended the stairs. I couldn't explain the sudden anxiety, but I made an effort not to let it show.
Outside, there was a black Bentley and a black-clothed man standing by it.
The back glasses were tinted but the front wasn't. As I neared, I could see Ryder sitting in the front seat. Asshole.
"Ms. Bardot." The man extended his hand with a professional smile. Judging by his features, I could tell he was in his late forties. "I don't believe we've met. I am Phillip, the chauffeur."
I took a step forward and accepted his hand. They were gloved but warm. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Phillip." I put on a wobbly smile.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mademoiselle." He opened the passenger door for me and held out his hand. "If you may."
Smiling gratefully, I nodded a thank you and climbed in, coming face to face with the devil himself.
He was engrossed in a phone call, affording me the opportunity to study him as I settled into the leather seat. His hair was slicked back and tied in a low bun, and he was dressed in a perfectly custom-made open-collared black shirt and dark slacks.
Black seemed to be his signature color.
When he finally got off the phone, he turned to me and our eyes locked. They were dark in the dim lighting of the car, and as they slid down my body, the only thing they gave away was dismay.
Did he not like my outfit?
Why the hell did I care if he liked it or not?
Those beauticians had spent the last two hours perfecting this look and I wasn't going to get demoralized just because his features didn't appreciate my appearance.
Suddenly, he shifted closer, his hand reaching over my shoulders for the band holding my ponytail in place, and in one swift move, he yanked it, letting it loose.
A gasp escaped my lips.
My hair cascaded down, tumbling over my face and shoulders.
Caught off guard, I shifted away and blanched. "What the hell?!"
For a moment, he was quiet, his gaze lingering on my now-free-flowing hair. "When you're with me, you'll wear your hair down."
My spine stiffened. What kind of a command was that?
I pushed my hair out of my face and glared at him. "It took almost an hour to get this as perfect as it was and you ruined it."
Ignoring me, he reached inside the compartment box, and a moment later, returned to me holding out a shimmering diamond necklace with a ruby pendant. "Turn around."
I didn't. I continued to glare at him.
Did he think he could just do whatever he wanted and get away with it?
His brows lowered. "Ms. Bardot, I said turn around." His dark command held a hint of a warning. Ryder who occupied the front seat turned his head and snarled.
Well, fuck you too.
Rolling my eyes, I complied and turned my body towards the window, away from him. "Fine."
Shivers instantly ran down my spine when I felt him lean in close. "It's a family heirloom," he explained, his warm breath on my skin as he swept my hair aside and placed the necklace around my neck. "An important part of the presentation."
The hairs on the back of my neck stood. Swallowing hard, I nodded.
When he was done fastening it around my neck, the cold pendant dropped, resting gracefully between my cleavage.
I turned back around. His eyes lowered to the pendant and as he stared, I couldn't tell if he was actually looking at the pendant or my breasts.
My cheeks flushed with heat and embarrassment. I cleared my throat.
He turned away. "Phillip, drive us now."