A Wife's Duty.
1114 Words
My legs were trembling like jelly at the thought of being intimate with Bastian.
I bite my lower lip knowing that we are now married.
Bastian took me to a beautiful mansion forty minutes from the city, as if he had somehow planned all day to bring me here. Although this is not his house, he moves around here like a fish in the water.
The space is so vast that I get lost in the different areas.
"All this for just one wedding night?" I asked, looking around with clear surprise.
Especially because there is an exit leading to the sea, a private beach, and more.
I swallow hard, not because I've never stepped into a mansion, but because I'm alone with him, at his mercy.
His assistant will stay in the servants' house, which is a few meters from the mansion.
"I thought it could serve as our honeymoon spot. What do you think?" he asked me, taking a sip of his sparkling wine.
I was offered alcohol too, but I declined. For some reason, I don't want to miss a detail of what happened to him.
"Honeymoon... I never thought I'd have one," I said, and immediately, I would have preferred to stay silent.
The look he gives me is serious.
"I left something for you in the master bedroom. You should go see it," is all he says.
He turns around and goes out to the balcony.
For my part, I do as instructed.
I climb the stairs, even though I don't know exactly which the master bedroom is.
I realized later that I didn't need to know because there is a beautiful decoration with yellow flowers that indicates the way.
The door to the master bedroom is wide open, so I enter with some curiosity.
What my eyes manage to capture is very surprising.
There are three boxes on the queen-sized bed with cream-colored silk and cotton sheets.
The illumination in the room mostly comes from the recessed lights in the ceiling, which emit a warm light resembling ordinary candles.
I approached and take the note on top of the white boxes tied with gold and black ribbons.
"A wife also has to look decent."
That's what the note contained. I scoff at that, rolling my eyes. Incredibly, men can only think of themselves.
This man is too eccentric, and that's not someone of many words.
The first box contains a beautiful white dress with fine rhinestone embellishments all over. I can't deny it's an exquisite design.
The second box contains a pair of not-very-high cream-colored heels, also something worth appreciating.
But how the hell did he know my shoe and clothing size?
I blink several times, but decide that continuing with this is the only thing left for me. I got into this mess by myself and must face reality.
The third box contains a designer handbag in white, with initials on the front. It hangs from a beautiful silver chain and also has a scarf tied with a material I don't know, but it looks incredible.
After dressing, I looked at myself in the only full-length mirror in the room.
I touch up my makeup and try to do something with my long hair, which is almost always a rebel without cause. I only manage to tame it with gel.
I tie it up in a way that can look elegant with the outfit I'm wearing now.
I realized that on the dresser, there were already a couple of new earrings ready.
I place them in my ears, and with that, I feel like I can go out without being looked down upon by Bastian.
"I knew it would work," says the French man.
"What thing?" I asked, not understanding.
"Helena had already found out that I got married. She keeps calling me," he responds, looking at his phone screen, which illuminates his face, especially his eyes.
I nod, somewhat disappointed that he didn't say anything about how I looked. Although he's not obligated to do so either.
"She'll soon see what she got into," I say, and just that snaps him out of his reverie.
When he looks at me, there seems to be no trace of emotion on his face, but he seems absorbed in the situation he's experiencing with his ex-partner.
"I have a reservation for both of us at a nice restaurant I know," he informs me, and without further ado, he starts walking out of the mansion, which is why I have to follow him.
I walk as fast as my high-heeled feet allow.
Upon reaching outside, there is a luxurious convertible sports car in bright blue waiting for us. The parking valet hands Bastian the keys, and he opens the door for me to get in.
Once inside, our journey to the restaurant begins.
"Are you the one who designs the renderings and plans, right?" he asks me, and I'm somewhat confused.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I don't think Paola has magically the same way of decorating and designing spaces as you," he clarifies.
"Yes, it's me... Aran always asks me for the designs. I recently found out that it's she who uses them, but how did you know?" I still don't have that question answered.
"You don't have to be a genius to notice the resemblance between the models," he shrugs.
So he was looking at my work. That is surprising.
A slight shiver runs through part of my back to my neck because the breeze of the night in the convertible car has some magic that makes me think this is unreal.
We arrived at the restaurant in a short time.
It's a restaurant on a small island several meters off the coast.
You get there by motorboat.
When I set foot in the place, I feel the true magic because everything is decorated in a Hawaiian style. The contrast it creates with the city is beautiful.
"This is amazing," I tell Bastian, but he seems quite accustomed to this kind of environment.
"Come on, it's this way," he tells me, walking ahead of me again.
When we get to the table, I feel like there are eyes on me, but I don't care much.
"I guess we'll make this public now," he comments to me, but I shake my head.
"This must be discreet; you can say it's our secret for now," I asked him.
"You'll have to convince me," he responds in a mocking tone.
"I'll do what I can," I took a sip of water, as I felt my cheeks getting warm.
"We have the whole night," Bastian winks at me.
Damn. He's serious.
- Writer
