The Landon Billionaires (7 stories)

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE TRANSFORMATION

Karma was a b***h. Chase could not help feeling like his fate was playing games with him. For seven whole months, Demetria had behaved exactly like he had expected her to. A true Stepford wife was what he had bargained for, and it was what he had gotten.

So like a proficient businessman that he was, he had devised a plan. Played a game assuming that his spoilt wife would leave him before he could even blink. Unfortunately, life had a way of getting in his way and spoiling everything. The first seeds of doubt had been planted when he had seen her in his garden just before he had made the terrible announcement. Back then, it had been too early for him to deduce that he was being fooled.

If he had been a smarter man, he would have stopped to consider the consequences before acting. Haste had a way to punish someone like a real b***h, and now he was repenting at leisure. Because, if he had been in the right frame of mind, he would have been more than alarmed to discover that the new Mrs. Landon was using her spare time to garden while he was away. He would have investigated her activities further with his unsuspecting staff. Like a complete dork though, he had gone on with his plan anyway ignoring his initial premonition.

His instincts had been reinforced on the day she had sounded almost caring when he had told her about losing his money. That should have been enough to raise another alert, but then, what was he supposed to do? Turn the whole thing as a joke?

When he had seen her look of wonder just because he had chosen a cottage with a garden, it had confirmed his doubts. Hell, she could buy a mansion in London if she wanted to. Demetria Hilton was nothing like the hopeless Barbie doll the world knew. Beneath layers and layers she had built around herself, there was a different woman. The truth was that instead of putting him off, he found himself intrigued by her.

He knew he was supposed to be irritated instead, there was nothing like a mysterious woman to lure a man. On top of that, when she had looked at him in that almost hero-worship way, he had felt his heart burn with something akin to Neanderthal pride. Something even Eva had never made him feel. He had liked it too damn much for his own good. He wanted to be her hero.

Which was a ludicrous prospect. Even if there was another personality to her, it did not mean that he would even like her. Maybe she was not as facetious as she had led others to believe, he consoled himself with the fact that there was no guarantee that she would prove to be of his taste.

One thing he was sure, it would take much more than three weeks for her to run off like he had first assumed. Demetria was staying for a while now. He had to think of other ways to make her flee. Feeling encouraged, he joined her downstairs and found her in the kitchen unprepared for the new surprise.

Chase did a double take at the domestic image she projected with her apron wrapped around her tiny waist but was quick to hide his astonishment. He was even more enthralled. So she knew how to cook. Somehow, he would never have associated the homely chore to her. She was becoming a puzzle to him now, one he intended to solve.

“I’m sorry,” she said with her perfect accentuated unapologetic tone. “There was not a great choice of food in the fridge, and I prepared Benedict for breakfast.”

As usual, she was automatically apologizing for something which was not even her fault, something which totally absolved her considering the effort she was making, even when there was absolutely no need to do so. Chase knew that sometimes she behaved facetiously, he’d always associated her flippancy to her faking it because it was a trivial attitude in the rich society. Now, given a different perspective, he realized that her words were always meant to be politically correct not phony. He was starting to get a better picture.

“That’s okay. It looks yummy,” he said, walking to the counter to take his plate where the dish had already been placed. It looked so absolutely perfect and professional that his mouth began to water. He hadn’t known he was hungry until now, unable to stop himself from feeling grateful at her consideration to remember breakfast.

Due to their flight having been delayed, they had reached London early morning instead of late evening as he had initially planned, and he had taken a nap to overcome the long travelling hours. He had supposed that Dem was also sound asleep, had been surprised to find her bustling around in the kitchen instead. Wasn’t she tired?

“Why didn’t you get some rest?” he asked politely, waiting for her to join him when all he wanted was to dig through the breakfast like a starving kid.

She turned to face him looking surprised at his show of concern. What did she think he was? A monster?

“You had nothing ready for breakfast so naturally it was my duty to make the necessary arrangements,” she replied, at the same time placing her dish in front of the seat opposite him.

He stopped, all thoughts of food gone. Did she think he was such an insensitive jerk? That she was not even allowed to rest after such a tiring journey and instead was required to prepare his breakfast?

“I would have ordered something,” he replied casually as he took his first bite. He could have howled in pleasure. It was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life, and he, as a food lover, could vouch for that having sampled several dishes in most prestigious restaurants over the word. “This is damn good!” he said, lashing out at the dish, murmuring nonsensical appreciative comments as he gobbled down the contents.

She was looking at him like he was one of the Marvel characters and suddenly pushed her plate in his direction. “You can have mine if you want.”

Chase grinned as he sipped water from a glass. “No, thanks. Next time, please make me two of those for me.”

Dem insisted on him finishing her meal as she was not hungry since she had nibbled snacks during the trip, and Chase was only too happy to oblige. He gobbled the second breakfast even faster than the first one and felt his tummy ready to burst.

“Do you…?”

“I’m full,” he sighed cutting off her sentence since he knew she was going to ask if he wanted something else. “But Demetria,” he continued firmly. “You should get some rest. You look tired.”

“I do?” she appeared mortified at the prospect while glancing at her reflection in the mirror. Heaven knew what she found there, because she straightened her back ramrod straight and apologized instantly. Chase was beginning to fume.

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” he inquired instead, keeping a rein on his temper. He was beginning to realize that William and Bethany had done a piece of art on destroying their daughter.

“My mother taught me.”

It was an outright lie along with being politically correct. Of course, the elite society would want to hear that Bethany Hilton was the perfect mother who had taught her perfect daughter how to manage a household.

He let out a humorless laugh. “The only thing your mother taught you was how to lie.” He wanted to break down all her barriers, when she gave him a stricken look however, he instantly bit back the harsh words and closed his eyes in dismay. Why the hell did he feel so strongly when she hid beneath her lies? If she wanted to be stoic, why should he even bother? Why the hell did he care?

The question reflected in her eyes, so to hide his concern, he shrugged nonchalantly, pointedly ignored it. He was not supposed to get involved. He was not supposed to care. That was what he was repeating to himself. So what if she cooked like a pro? It meant nothing. Chase had unwillingly overheard the conversation with her mother just before their departure. From the shambles of words he had grasped, he had understood that she was not close to her mother.

So, there was no way in hell that Bethany could have taught her anything.

“H…How do you know?” she blurted to ask him after a few minutes of silence, her voice sounding hoarse.

How could he tell her that he felt so connected to her that he always knew when she was faking it? It sounded terribly eerie even to himself. So, instead he shrugged, trying for a nonchalant shrug.

“It does not matter. Why do you lie so much?”

For an instance, Chase found that a discomfited look crossed her face and shadows casted over her neutral expression. Shadows of guilt and shame. Chase felt bad for having invaded her personal space. Then she straightened her spine, the action making him eager to hear what she would say. Would she deny it? Would she pretend that this was her only lie?

“It’s more like a…a habit,” she said in a low voice in an extremely cautious manner like she was walking on eggshells.

He grinned. She was being honest with him. That was a first. It was not as if he was judging her, it looked like Demetria seemed to believe so, and he wanted to diffuse the atmosphere.

“A bad habit then, huh?”

She looked up at him seemingly surprised at his jest and there was an answering little tug at the corner of her mouth. Of her most delectable mouth. One he wanted to kiss until it smarted, and she could take no more.

Chase could feel his response at the semblance of the smile which was forming on her lips. A response which appeared to be directly connected to his heart because he felt reactions there. Suppressing an urge to rub his chest in the region where his heart existed – something which was becoming a habit when concerning his wife, he winked playfully at her.

It was a rhetorical question anyway, so he was not expecting any answer. Then she grinned back at him nearly giving him a heart attack. It was nothing like the fake smiles she used to flaunt effortlessly around her friends and the media. The megawatt smile transformed her beautiful face making it look like a blooming flower. The mask fell apart like clay and those grey lifeless eyes twinkled like some hidden gems.

He was bowled over. Even plastic, she was gorgeous, her genuine smile was something which almost killed him as her face was flushed with pleasure. He could not help but stare at her wanting to know more about her.

“So, where did you learn to cook?” he asked.

“I never learnt it actually. I tried some experiments on my own and discovered that I was good. So I stuck to it,” she replied easily, leaving Chase with the feeling that there was more to the answer and she was merely skimming at the surface with the reply.

He wanted to unravel the mystery. Now more than ever.

“Hmmm what else have you been hiding, princess?” He had not intended it to be a flirtatious line or an out of place comment. Judging from the way her mask snapped back in place, he realized he had said the wrong thing. In one fleeting second, he realized the truth. Demetria had many things to hide, and he was too close for comfort. There was a moment of awkward silence before she announced to nobody in particular that she was going to bed. Chase heaved a sigh of relief after her departure, because the atmosphere had been laced with tension.

He wished he did not feel so affronted when Demetria lied to him. What the hell did it matter to him? He knew she said things just to keep a good front and that made him sad. Maybe he pitied her.

However, the dreams he had been having about her had nothing to do with pity. Hot vivid imaginations had invaded his sleep ever since that night, which made him yearn for that woman like never before. It was as if he was suddenly incomplete and would only be satiated if he delved further into her true nature.

Not that he was willing. He was not the Casanova people believed him to be. Unbelievable as it may seem, he invested himself emotionally in his love quests. For some reason unknown to him, he did not want to be involved with his wife. Some primitive instinct was telling him that it would be more hassle than do him any good, so, he felt better off running away from the attraction he felt. Even if it was something more powerful than he had ever felt.

Demetria Hilton-Landon was clearly out of bounds.

Decision made, he decided to go on living with the farce like he had for seven months. Except there was no way to go away on business since he could hardly leave his wife alone in this house. He was seriously starting to regret the dramatic decision he had taken to drive her away. Maybe he should have sat and waited for her to get bored.

Sighing, he grabbed his phone and went to bark a few orders to his employees. Sometimes, he wondered how no work was done until he intervened. He would have liked to have a more autonomous staff who would be motivated enough to make some changes without him being constantly on their toes. He was in a foul mood.

When Demetria descended the stairs a few hours later, his temperament had not improved even after he had mercilessly lashed out at his poor unsuspecting secretary, and he was still at it.

“Madeleine,” he was saying in a voice which he struggled to keep normal when all he wanted to do was strangle the woman. And when Demetria appeared at the bottom of the small staircase tiptoeing around him, his temper rose a notch. “I have been telling you not to postpone my meetings even if I’m in London. Of course, I…” he stopped in mid-sentence when Demetria threw him a sympathetic look and placed a hand on his shoulder.

He was doomed if he didn’t feel himself ignite at her touch. Again.  How shameful was that? The woman had only to touch him, and he would burn like a damn furnace. Minutes after he had taken the decision not to go on with this fatal attraction. Minutes after he had just listed all the reasons why getting closer to Demetria was a bad idea. Minutes after he had convinced himself that the l**t was not worth the fight. It was not even a fair battle.

Resisting the urge to shove her hand away from his shoulders, he bestowed her an impatient look and stopped short. She was wearing a white knee-length floral dress which had nothing to do with what she had been wearing every time he had seen her. Whenever they had dined together after their marriage, she had ensured that she was immaculately dressed with her perfect evening gowns and spotless make-up. Now standing with her face unadulterated of artifice, wearing a simple summer dress, she looked like a teenager. A hot sexy teenager.

A raw guttural sound resonated the small room, and he realized it had emanated from him when his secretary asked if something was wrong with him. Even Demetria was looking at him in that concerned way, and he wanted the earth to open and swallow him. It was a childish reaction but anything would do except face his growing attraction to his wife.

Nothing happened though, and he felt like he was in hell. He froze with the receiver still clamped to his right ear oblivious to the questions his secretary was throwing at him. Time suspended as he took a while before choosing his next move. All he wanted to do was look. Really look at the woman in front of him, God knew he would not stop at just looking. He would probably rip off the dress from her body and r****h her. He was determined to resist the first step before he got further engulfed in the abyss Demetria was determined to pull him in.

Closing his eyes like he was having a headache, he whirled in the opposite direction and was glad when her hand fell away from his shoulders. He was glad. The bereft feeling was only because the place had been warm and it was only natural that he felt the lack of heat when it was removed. That was the only explanation he would allow himself.

When she moved away, he was relieved that she was leaving him alone to conduct his business, and he snapped a few more orders in Madeleine’s way before cutting off the phone. The next thing which endured his wrath was his iPad; he tirelessly replied to all his urgent emails until he had no resources left in his mind. He was exhausted.

One look at the mantelpiece clock told him it was noon, and he could have cursed himself for his lack of sensitivity again. He should have arranged lunch, and he was damn sure that Demetria had taken it upon herself to cook something.

However, he was wrong.

When he joined her in the kitchen, Demetria looked desperate. Like someone who had failed him, and something twisted in his heart. Inwardly, he cringed at the pain, unable to digest the fact that a mere forlorn look from her could provoke so much anguish to him, managing to keep an impassible face when she looked back at him.

“There is no food, and I did not want to disturb you during your work. I’m sorry,” she immediately asked for forgiveness when their gaze met.

Quickly, like a frightened deer, she looked away and fidgeted with the napkin of the kitchen table like she was afraid of something. He was too sour to find a place in his heart to figure out what was going on with her. He was too pre-occupied trying to smother his own feelings.

“That’s okay,” he replied automatically in response to her apology. It was becoming a habit of his since he knew she never meant it when she apologized. “I’m not hungry anyway. You can take the car in the garage to feed yourself. I can give you instructions so that you…”

“There’s no need,” came the cool and calm reply. When he looked up the old Demetria was back. The robot one. The one he hated so much. “I have GPS in my iPhone, I can find my way around.”

It was softly spoken, Chase felt the rebuke nonetheless. It was a clear message. If he was leaving her to fend for herself, he’d better do a better job at it. Without warning, he felt a pang of admiration for her. She was not one woman to whine about how he was leaving her on her own in a strange country.

No, Demetria took whatever life threw her way with style and panache. Unflinchingly. Unlike any other female he had known before.

Discretely, he bowed his head in acquiescence not knowing whether he should acknowledge her courage or defy her. However, he had to be cruel to push her away. This was not time to be fastidious. Not when he was so far gone with his damned plan to respect propriety. If he had suspected there was a double side to Demetria’s personality, he would never have lied to her. Now it was too late for a setback.

Without missing a beat, she took the car keys from him and it was only when Chase heard the roar of the BMW engine that he allowed himself to relax. Hell! It was hell living with her when he was so obviously not comfortable in her presence.

Damn! He could not even run to another country this time. The getaway would provide relief but would only be temporary. He had to stay and execute his plan so that Demetria would be the one to leave. Forever.

It was going to be a long journey.