“The kitchen is fully equipped with everything a professional che
f would need. I assume, Mr. Edwards, you would have a full time chef?” Anita, the realtor, asked.
“Yes, as well as a live in housekeeper and possibly a nanny,” I boldly responded.
“What?” Charlotte asked, her pitch high. I sensed she was annoyed- Why? I had no idea.
“Charlotte, please, I wouldn’t have it any other way. If you’re worried about the money…”
“I don’t care about the money! What makes you think I’m going to be one of those women who sits around with hired help? I wasn’t raised that way and don’t intend to raise our child with hired help either. I’m not like that and I don’t give a shit about your fucking money!”
I asked the realtor to excuse us. Attempting to control my temper, I clenched my fists, remembering that this was the women I loved and she was carrying my baby. Fuck, women were so unpredictable!
“Was that really necessary in front of the realtor?” My voice was low, trying my best to remain calm.
“Probably not, but right now I don’t care. I understand that you are wealthy but you don’t control everything, we do, do you understand that? I don’t want money to dictate our life. If you want me then you need to learn to consult me about things like that. I may like clothes and shoes but I do not want to be known as some stuck up New York housewife. I worked very hard to get where I am, I am proud of what I have achieved. It was never my intention to work hard and have others serve me, it just doesn’t sit right. You want a woman like that – perhaps you need to go back to Victoria Preston.”
Where the fuck did that come from? Charlotte knew I was never with Victoria; this was so left field.
“Is this your hormones talking?” I asked, confused.
Shit – I went there. Her face contorted into pure rage until she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. I apologized to the realtor who no doubt would run to the press with a “Lex Edwards on the Verge of Break Up” headline. God, what the fuck was that? Why couldn’t Charlotte see how difficult it was for me to factor someone in. I am use to making my own decisions. I can’t be so fucking accommodating all of a sudden.
I walked outside to be met by the icy winter breeze and that was just from Charlotte’s glare. It was a silent cab ride back to the apartment and I allowed her to calm down, choosing my words very carefully.
“Charlotte, I assumed that having help would allow you to focus on your career. I know that is what is important to you.”
“Sometimes I feel like I don’t know you. This money and wealth has changed you,” she said, a more rational Charlotte, thank god.
“It has, for the better.”
“No, Lex, that’s where you’re wrong. I fell in love with Alex, this unbelievably beautiful and smart man who wasn’t hung up on money. A man who was happy to live in a tiny cottage in a small town, who pitied those that were so fixated on material possessions. Tell me, am I looking at that same person now? ”
“Charlotte...”
“Don’t you get it? Money can be a curse rather than a blessing. I want to be the one that cleans our bed sheets, knowing that I am making our bed, you know, the one that’s covered in cum stains. I want to look at that and smile, reminiscing about all the wild sex we’re having on it. I want to be the one that cooks our meals, places the cutlery on our table knowing that it’s you that sits across me at the dinner table, chatting about our day, and most importantly, I want to be the one raising our baby. I don’t want to miss a single milestone because it’s assumed the wealthy need a nanny. I want all the normal things, Lex. White picket fence type normal. A long time ago I pictured you and me and our children. We led a simple life, and we were a family.”
“I pictured that too, a long time ago.”
“Then you know.” It wasn’t a question, rather a fact.
I pulled her into me, “Yes, I know. I’m sorry, Charlotte. I promise to be less controlling. We are a family now but there is one thing you have to get use to…”
“What’s that?”
“We, and I emphasis we, are wealthy. It’s our money Charlotte, not just mine, and because of that we will always be in the public eye so outbursts like that need to remain behind closed doors.”
“I’m sorry. I forget that you’re famous,” she mocked.
“Not famous, more high profile, Charlotte, but there’s a lot of people who want to see me fail and that includes my relationship.”
She pulled me close and when I thought she was leaning in for a kiss, she undid my zip and grabbed my cock.
“You are mine, they can fuck off. Your cock belongs to me – it fucks me every day, sometimes twice a day, maybe three if I’m lucky. They can wish all they like but this,” she said as she stroked it, “belongs to me.”
“Well then get down on your knees and suck the fucking cum out of it because I swear to god, Charlotte, it will only ever belong to you. And for the record, people in white picket fenced houses don’t fuck like we do.”
“This makes us dirty, oh so very dirty.” She teased, as she slid down and took me in, her eyes never leaving mine as her mouth wrapped around my cock, and finally we were back to pure bliss.