I breathe in deeply. It won’t do us any good to be upset with each other. I remind myself he’s trying to help. “Anyway, I can’t do volunteer work. I would like something that’s going to help me earn some money.”
“You don’t have to work if you’re worried about that. If you need money, let me know, and I’ll take care of it. I told you I’ll provide for you while we’re married.”
“You have been doing that, and I appreciate it. But that’s not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
I look away. “I have some debt, and I don’t want you involved in it. It’s something I want to pay off on my own.”
He makes a sound of frustration deep in his throat. “It can’t be that much. Just give the information to my assistant, and he’ll take care of it.” He rakes his hair. “Why are we even arguing over something this stupid? I’m going to provide for you as long as we’re married. I made that clear.”
But what do I tell the assistant? I don’t even know Mr. Grayson’s address. More importantly, I’m afraid to have Elliot involved in any way with a man as shady as Mr. Grayson.
“Elliot, let’s not fight over this.” I wrap my arms around him tightly. “It’s not worth it. Please?”
He digs a hand into my hair and strokes my back, which is rigid as a diving board. And from the way his body stays taut, I know he isn’t going to let it go.
* * *
Elliot
I let my wife cling to me. Normally it would give me dirty thoughts. But right now all I can think about is how she won’t talk about what’s really bugging her.
I don’t believe that shit about needing money or some secret debt. There’s nothing in her initial background check that indicated she has any credit card debt or owes money to loan sharks.
So what is it, really? And why do I feel so apprehensive about it?
FOLLOW THE MONEY.
That cryptic message… Is that about my wife, not about the intern?
Fucking secrets and the games women play. I got screwed over once with Annabelle Underhill, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let it happen again.
Patience, I tell myself. There’s nothing Paddington can’t dig up, and I’m going to make sure I know all there is to know about my wife by the end of our honeymoon.
Chapter Fifteen
Annabelle
Elliot and I do not discuss our argument anymore. I try not to let his reaction bother me. He’s been slightly aloof, but there’s nothing to fault in his manners or the way he treats me. It’s maddening, but I suspect it’s just the way he’s bred. Even if he claims he didn’t come from an old money, blue-blooded clan like the Pryces, growing up with half-siblings from that family must’ve rubbed off on him.
He’s so smooth that Nonny doesn’t notice at all. Over our dinner of Thai takeout, she talks about her band practice and the trip they’re going to take to Vancouver. Apparently her new school isn’t going to Vegas. Elliot talks about it enthusiastically over mangosteen flavored ice-cream, and tells her to have fun and take lots of photos.
After dinner, he and Nonny watch some made-for-TV movie. I go to the master suite to pack. I dump everything I think I’m going to need in St. Cecilia into my suitcase and zip it up. Tension pulls at me until I’m strung tighter than Queen Victoria’s corset. I dial the phone by the bed to get the concierge.
“Is there a gym nearby?” I ask.
“We have a gym that’s open twenty-four seven for residents on the second floor.”
“Great. How do I access it?”
“Your penthouse key will be sufficient. Somebody should be at the front desk to sign you in.”
“Thanks.” I hang up.
I can’t stay in the penthouse anymore without feeling like I’m going to explode. I change into a plain white t-shirt and an old pair of shorts. The shorts aren’t something Josephine bought. She hasn’t bought me anything except skirts and dresses since that’s what’s in the contract between me and Elliot, but I’m not going to the gym in a skirt.
Very quietly, I walk out without disturbing the duo watching TV. They’re too absorbed in the climactic scene to notice me leaving.