The Landon Billionaires (7 stories)

CHAPTER SIX: THE NEW HOUSE

Two days later, Chase came to announce that they were moving to London. Apparently, he was still making dealings about auctioning the Philadelphia house and had asked her to remain discreet about his current financial status.

Dem found it insulting that he felt he had to make such a demand. Of course she would never share her husband’s personal problems with anyone else. Had she been close to her parents, then maybe she would have informed them of their predicament, despite knowing how they would react, she knew it would be better if she just informed them that they were shifting to London for some time.

If the situation did not improve, then she would have to tell them that they were facing some money problems. Not that they would care anyway. Bethany would probably order her to leave Chase and find another rich husband. That was what she should probably do. It was not as if theirs was a love story or anything.

However, Chase had looked so defeated that one second in the study that Dem had not been able to resist the urge to comfort him. She knew he considered her a heartless b***h and expected her to leave him, Dem found that she did not have the heart to depart now.

Not when Chase had finally appeared vulnerable. She had not missed the slumping of his shoulders, a sad way to acknowledge defeat, and that had been her undoing. Seeing that formidable man looking so crestfallen had done things to her heart. Twisted it. Something she refused to analyze since it probably meant nothing.

Maybe she pitied him. It was unfortunate for him to encounter such a big problem when his father was cruising and completely unreachable. The fact that he had refused to take her money had certainly played a great part to mollify her. All her acquaintances would have jumped at the opportunity of being able to use her money since the whole world knew that only her inheritance was worth several billion dollars.

When she would finally inherit her father’s business, she would become one of the richest women in the United States. Even then. Chase had refused to accept her money. She felt almost humbled. He had been categorical about that; Dem had tried to convince him later, but he had informed her, albeit a bit coldly, that he would manage on his own.

After that, they had barely talked, and Dem had retreated back into her shell. She could barely sympathize with someone who looked like he was only tolerating her, speaking to her only when necessary. When he had come home unannounced the other day, she had been unprepared for his arrival being pre-occupied in the garden. She must have looked like filth, because he had not even talked to her. It was Mrs. June who had notified her of his arrival, and she had been frantic with worry.

How insensitive to just drop by when he felt the need to. Dem had never been one to whimper about anything though; she took whatever life threw at her with indecent submission. So, she had jumped in the shower and done her best to prepare a meal for him with the help of her staff. She loved cooking anyway, had been firmly put back in her place however when instead of appreciating her efforts, he had grumbled about the choice of food.

Would she ever learn? Hadn’t she grown up watching her mother trying to please her father all her life? Didn’t she know how it worked? That she would get so bored trying to eventually give up and look for her pleasures elsewhere. Dem shuddered to think there was a possibility that she would end up like her mother. Consoling herself with that fact that her case was different was not easy given the situation. Since she already knew the scores, she lectured herself to be more careful. After all, forewarned was forearmed, wasn’t it?

So, ever since Dem had tampered down her sympathies towards him, she’d reverted to being Demetria the zombie. Not that Chase had minded; in fact, it was as if he had expected that. Now she sat on her bed all packed, feeling fearful at the prospect of a dark future with a husband who hated her.

For a fleeting second, she felt lonelier than ever and wanted someone familiar to comfort her. On impulse, she dialed her mother’s secretary number who surprisingly enough told her to wait. Usually she got a message to call back since her mother was busy.

“Demetria, darling,” came the familiar drawl which somehow soothed her tension. “To what do I owe this unexpected call?”

I miss you mother. I love you. I feel out of place living with a man who hates me.

None of the above was a good response. So instead she said in her best prim and proper voice. “Mother, I am moving to London for a few days.”

“London?” Bethany repeated sounding surprised. “Why London?”

Trust her mother to ask such a ludicrous question. Demetria suppressed the urge to roll her eyes then remembered in a fraction of second that her mother was far away, she rebelliously broke the rule by rolling her eyes.

“Chase has some business to attend to over there for some period of time, and we thought that it would be best if we stayed over there for a while.”

“Hmmm alright. Just make sure you do your shopping in the biggest malls, honey.”

Dem could not help it. She rolled her eyes again feeling foolish for having expected her mother to say something of magnitude. Like she would miss her. Or that she would come to visit. Or anything less stupid than some shopping advice.

Should she mention the financial problems? She knew that Chase would not appreciate it, and she was not heartless enough to hurt his self-respect like that. Either way, her mother with her social climbing tendencies would most certainly advise her to get a quick divorce and look for another rich husband. She could almost hear her raspy voice croak, a royalty this time, darling?

What could she expect from the woman who had destroyed the only friendship she had? Who had not even been sorry about it. After that fateful episode with Sam, Dem had waited for her mother to come to her. To apologize for her scandalous behavior. That had never come, of course. Dem had learnt the hardest lesson of all; she had to forgive someone who had not even been sorry for an atrocity committed.

“Sure, mother,” she muttered under her breath, disconnecting the line before she sounded like a pathetic new bride. It was, after all, seven months since she had gotten married, and the attitude of her parents towards her was so horrendous that there was not room for one small complaint.

An age old melancholy settled around her, as she threw the cordless phone on the bed chewing on her lower lips. A habit of hers to refrain from bursting into tears.

“Are you ready yet?” someone barked at her door, and she jumped out of her skin at the abrupt intrusion. Hell, she was not even allowed to wallow in self-pity in peace!

Sitting up straight, she forced her slumped shoulders up, her slouchy movement apparently not quick enough.

“What’s wrong?” he asked a little less harshly, watching her carefully as she struggled to bring back her composure to put on her Wednesday mask. Today was the sanguine mask. It was a stupid game she used to play when she was a little girl. An emotion for every day of the week.

“Nothing,” she cheered, turning round to indicate her luggage. “I’m packed.”

Chase threw an incredulous glance in the direction of her two suitcases. “Where’s the rest?” he asked impatiently.

Dem shot her gaze at him in wonder. Was he being sarcastic? She knew it was two heavy suitcases, but she had to take her books and painting materials. There was no way she would leave without them. It was the only thing which occupied her empty lifestyle.

“Ummmmm…” she hesitated unsure of how to tell him that she could not leave her canvas behind.

“Is that all you have?” he questioned, and Dem nodded.

He looked like he wanted to say something when his phone rang disrupting the moment, diverting his attention. While he spoke to the other person online, Dem found an excuse to look at him. Properly. Not the furtive glances she had given him whenever he was around, rather a woman-to-man kind of appraisal.

To her consternation, she discovered she liked what she saw, still did and always had. As a boy, he hadn’t attracted girls; he had been too skinny making his cheekbones portraying a skeletal look. As he had grown, his features had become more pronounced giving his face distinct cheekbones with angular jaws. He wore his chocolate rich hair short but there was always a lock which dislocated from the impeccable mass and singulated itself on his forehead.

Undeniably, his best feature was his eyes – they were deep and eloquent; a shade of dim blue when he was happy or carefree in contrast with a storm of blue-grey flecks when he was intensely emotional. However, Dem liked his hands best. They were lean, strong and callous, those of a hardworking man not a version of polished aristocrats she had been acquainted with all her life.

Swallowing, she tried to shake the mental picture of his hands on her. Touching and caressing. What would it feel like? His body was to die for. He worked out in gym as well, she knew that much since she had heard him during the nights. His tee-shirt clung to his body like a second skin, and she gulped at the unexpected want to touch the expansion of his chest.

She looked up suddenly, blushing as he pinned her gaze with his. He had caught her staring, and Dem had never stared in all her life. Not at any man. Certainly not in a hungry way like that. She gulped mortified that he would mock her, to her surprise, she found a responding heat in the grey storms which stared back at her.

Now, wait a second. He was attracted? To her? Well, she knew many considered her to be beautiful; she had taken after her mother. She never knew that Chase I-am-too-good-to-be-fake liked her. It was inconceivable.

He cleared his throat. “We’d better get going then.”

They drove to the airport in silence, although Dem was dying to ask many questions, she kept them back. Where they would be living. Whether they would be living alone. She did not mind a smaller house. Chase’s house had been big enough to accommodate at least twenty guests, she had never liked presumptuousness anyway. The only thing which Demetria regretted leaving behind was the garden. The staff had been her only companions during her time in the mansion and the garden one of her hobbies.

Now she had no idea on what she was embarking.

“Where are we living?” she finally asked, unable to bear the loaded silence any longer. She had sent him furtive glances after the discovery of a mutual attraction, but she had not held his gaze for too long since. It would be too dangerous. Not when she had recently learnt about the s****l chemistry blazing between the two of them. She had to take time to gather her wits and build another barrier around her heart.

Sex with Chase was not a good idea. Anyway, she may be attracted to him, there was no denying that she was frigid. Dem doubted she would be able to let her inhibitions free with a man like him. Or any man whatsoever. Chase was a handsome man, it was natural that she was attracted to him, what worried her was that she’s never felt the s****l need like other women before.

Of course, she’d read in books how s*x was addictive and all, personally, she felt no such connection or inkling with other men. Therefore, she had concluded that she must be sexually unresponsive, had managed to refuse advances from the men in her life. She was never sure anyway who wanted her for herself or for her money. So she had learnt to live without it, one could not lose what one never had, right?

Chase looked at her in response to her question and all her earlier thoughts flew to the window. She literally melted under his gaze. It was as if something had broken between the two of them and some of the pent-up emotions were overflowing. Damn! She had to close the Pandora box before it was too late.

“I’m sorry. I forgot to mention that we’ll be living in a small cottage. There will unfortunately be no staff to assist us for the time being,” he lowered his face to her ears as he muttered the last sentence most probably making sure that the other passengers could not overhear them. They had boarded economic class instead of the usual private jet she was used to.

So, she had gone in her incognito mode. Her black wig and large spectacles. The look she had been using to go out like a normal person. If Chase had been surprised by her HANNA MONTANA makeover, she never knew, because he had refrained from any comment when she had climbed down the stairs to join him. It was nothing drastic anyway; just a camouflage of her platinum blonde hair which was sometimes too obvious to miss.

They were settling in East London from what she gathered; a place near to his sister’s college. It would be a rough time, the only thing mattering was that they were not moving in a flat. Then she realized that Chase must have become really poor. She was not a page three person and did not know about his possessions. Maybe she should have asked her mother; she would have been a better informer about the monetary value of the Landons.

Remembering her mother’s last words, she dismissed the thought immediately. It would be better for her to live her life without her parents now. They had caused her enough harm, and Chase, even if he was distant, did not mistreat her like her parents had. She found that she could be herself around the house when she was alone. There were no restrictions on what she was supposed to do or not only that she kept to herself. That was something she excelled at from a very young age. Living in a golden cage.

So she had found several indoor hobbies. Like reading. Painting. Cooking. Gardening. As long as she avoided company and gossips, it was fine with her. Her secretary contacted her for some photoshoots which was used to update her profiles on social networks, once in a while posting some status about her partying and enjoying life. Sometimes, they utilized old pictures of hers just to keep her social life active. Something her mother had insisted upon since she was not supposed to look like a recluse.

“Don’t worry about any domestic chores,” Chase continued misinterpreting her silence, leaning closer as he said the words. Dem froze. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her nape, and it was sending shivers down her spine. Okay, she was not panicking. It was a ticklish reaction. It was normal.

Then he shifted, his lips nearly brushing her nape, and she moaned at the sensations it caused her. Hot liquid coursed through her, she felt the heat till her toes, and could have strangled herself. She jerked back as if burnt, masquerading her involuntary reaction as one of awkwardness, unable to meet him in the eyes. No, she would not be able to handle the fiery grey storm for now. She had to get a grip on herself, for Heaven’s sake!

She could not remember the course of conversation. Feeling defeated, she slumped down on her seat moving physically and mentally away from him as far as possible. For the rest of the flight, she replied in muffled monotones and refused to meet his eyes. She could not be attracted to Chase Landon. Not after all that happened!

How the hell was she going to handle this dangerous attraction? She was supposed to be an immune little zombie not a dormant volcano ready to erupt at his merest touch!

Finally, Chase got bored with her and dropped any semblance of polite conversation which left her alone to muse over her damn problem. She refused to be attracted to him. By now, she had learnt to suppress every of her emotion except desire. It was a feeling which had never aroused in her before and she did not know how to deal with the situation. It was a complication she could have well done without.

When they landed, she was so worked up that she put back all her layers of counterfeit identity and plastered her fake smile in guise of any response she should make.

She was unprepared for what came next though. When she saw the house from the taxi, her first impression was that it was not as small as she had been anticipating. It had three windows on the first floor and two on the ground. What captured her breath was the garden which encompassed the alley which led to the cottage, and she got a better view when the taxi halted at the porch.

It was astoundingly beautiful. They were filled with flowers, since she was an avid fan, she knew the name of some. There were purple, white and pink foxgloves hanging near the windows. The wild daffodils were numerous and almost filled the alley along with some blue unidentified ones. She could have wept with joy at the sight.

“It’s beautiful,” she finally said looking at Chase again, trying to keep her voice neutral, somehow knowing she was unsuccessful when she caught the silver gleam in his eyes.

He bowed his head. “I’m glad you liked it,” he said not sounding surprised and understanding dawned. Chase knew about her love for flowers. It was a premonition which would not go away, and she gulped praying hard that she was misjudging the circumstances. Otherwise, she would be doomed.

“Did you just buy it?” she asked huskily still unable to conceal the note of wonder in her voice. She had been to London many times for social events and she was not supposed to be bowled over at the sight of a mediocre cottage. Damn!

“Yes, I chose it yesterday.” There was something in his voice too. Something close to emotional. Maybe she was completely imagining things. Why would Chase chose a house with a garden to please her? He did not even know what she was up to when she was alone in the house.

“You chose this cottage?” she asked, powerless to ask the questions which were trotting in her mind. She had to know. It was suddenly a more important for her to know than her next breath. “Why?”

He cleared his throat again. He was uncomfortable now, and unsure. “What do you mean why? We had to live somewhere, I thought this was a fair deal,” he muttered roughly under his breath, picked up the suitcases leaving her behind to gape at his broad back.

Instinctively, she knew. Chase had chosen a house with a garden for her. She could not have misinterpreted the expectant look in his eyes as if he’d been gauging her reaction. Suddenly, she felt like bursting into tears – something she had never done in almost fifteen years. She, Demetria Jewel Hilton did not cry. There was a dam inside her, however, which was threatening to burst.

Nobody had ever cared before. Nobody had ever even known that she liked gardening or flowers.

Fighting the urge to fling herself into his arms, she picked up her handbag and drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves. She would not cry here. Blinking madly, she managed to stop the tear from rolling down her cheeks, knowing that her eyes were incandescent with the unshed tears.

Then she gathered the courage to join him in the living room. When all she wanted to do was hide in a bedroom to understand what the hell was happening. To build up layers and layers of falsehood so that he would never confuse her with the woman she really was. However, she had the uncanny feeling that it was already too late.

She confirmed it soon enough.

“Thank you,” she said when she sat down on the couch and met his eyes, holding her breath. The look which the grey eyes staring back at her beheld was captivating.

It conveyed a very important hidden message. However, it was so potent that she could not miss it. The grey storm told her that he had started to see through her façade, was even ready to strip down her very defenses and would only be satisfied until every layer was unveiled.

It was a warning as well as a promise.