Everyone claps as I make my way to the front of the crowd and take the microphone from Julian. I clear my dry throat and put my quivering hand behind my back.
“Thank you all so much for coming. It is a pleasure to introduce you to my first collection.” I gaze around at the well-dressed, refined, wealthy crowd as I wrack my brain for something else to say. I glance at Julian, who nods his head encouragingly.
“I would like to first and foremost thank Julian for supporting me in my creative passions and persuading me to show my first collection. Without him, this collection would not be possible. I would also like to thank my friends and family for their encouragement. I found most of my inspiration for these painting from my travels with Julian. Many of the paintings feature architecture and culture I’ve seen in the various cities I’ve visited.” I smile as everyone watches me intently. I’m suddenly feeling more confident.
The crowd claps and then disperses throughout my art gallery. Julian and I stand together, sipping on champagne while everyone takes their time to view my paintings. Every so often, individuals and couples approach us and make offers on certain paintings.
At the end of the night I’ve received several offers. Julian is extremely impressed with the high interest in my work.
A few painting are sold to Julian’s close friends. Several other paintings are purchased by Julian’s wealthy acquaintances who, as fine art collectors, purchase art from all around the world, from both known and unknown artists. Altogether, eight of my paintings are sold, at between five million and ten million Swiss franc.
“I had doubts that anyone would make an offer,” I tell Julian once everyone has left.
“I never doubted you; I hope you never doubt me,” Julian replies. “How does it feel to be a real artist?”
“It feels amazing. It’s something I always dreamed of.”
“I promised you that I would make all your dreams come true.” Julian gently brushes away a stray strand of hair from my face.
“You did,” I confirm.
“Any other dreams you want me to fulfill?”
“I have everything I could ever want.” There is just one thing I still want—loyalty.
“I have some wishes I’d like you to fulfill tonight,” Julian whispers with lust-filled eyes.
“I’d gladly fulfill them.” I’d rather fulfill his wishes, whatever they are, than have another woman fulfill them.
“Let’s finish our champagne and head home,” Julian instructs. “Cheers to a successful viewing.” We click glasses and lock eyes.
On the way home, driving in Julian’s Maserati Birdcage sports car, Julian expertly discusses famous works of art as though he were a professional art critic. Sometimes Julian’s intelligence blows my mind. He seems to know everything about everything, and it can be very intimidating at times.
When we arrive home, Julian cradle lifts me and carries me through our home and into the “rape room.” He locks the door and lays me down on the four-poster king-sized bed. I make a half-hearted attempt to escape and dash toward the door. Julian grabs me by the waist, pulls my back against his chest, and holds me tight.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he snarls into my ear. It’s his role-play voice—rough and cruel. I feel him place a gun to the side of my head. “You do as you’re told, understand?”
“Yes,” I respond quickly. “Whatever you want.”
“Get undressed and get on the bed,” Julian snarls.
I slip out of my dress and lingerie, then sit at the edge of the bed.
Julian points the gun at me. “Lay down on the bed, face down,” he demands.
I lay down on my stomach and wait for further instructions. Julian walks around the bed, handcuffing my hands and feet to each of the four bed posters.
I am spread eagle, at Julian’s mercy, and loving it. I feel Julian get behind me and press the muzzle of the gun to the back of my neck.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I murmur.
“I don’t intend to,” Julian responds. “Let me do what I want with you, and then you will be free to go.”
I feel Julian gently run the cold, metal muzzle of the gun along my back and down my legs. “Such a sexy body,” he whispers.
Julian smacks my ass hard with the palm of his hand several times. “That ass looks better red.”
With my hands and legs handcuffed, there is no escaping. Julian thrusts inside me and sets a rough, fast pace as though he’s in a rush. He fucks me hard and ruthlessly. I moan as the friction against my g-spot and c-spot intensifies. I feel a blended orgasm coming on. My inner core clenches hard, aching for release.
Julian grabs a chunk of my hair and pulls hard, causing my head to tilt back. He lets out a manly, primal roar as he moves faster.
“I’m going to cum inside you,” he roars.
My inner core clenches even harder and tighter with those words. “No,” I whine. “Please don’t cum in me. Anywhere but there.”
“Shut up, bitch,” Julian snaps. At that moment, I feel a massive, hot explosion of his seed streaming inside me. I groan loudly as a climax rips through my body, taking me to a blissful high. My core clenches around his deeply imbedded cock as I shudder with pleasure.
Julian continues jerking against me, milking the entire contents of his balls inside me while also hitting and rubbing against my g-spot and c-spot, intensifying my blended orgasm.
My insides are drenched to the brim with Julian’s semen, and when he has nothing more to give me, he pulls out. He kisses the back of my neck. “I love you,” he says in his usual, loving tone, the cruelness in his voice from just a few minutes ago completely gone.
My hands and legs are freed, and we lay in each other’s arms for a while before Julian carries me into our master bedroom.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The ringing of my cell phone wakes me. I shift in bed and whimper—every part of my insides is aching and raw. Julian has left a bottle of Advil on the bed stand. I swallow one and then pick up my cell.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Julian says sweetly. “How are you feeling?”
“I think you know how I’m feeling.” I smirk.
“That’s part of the fun,” Julian says playfully.
“You did some major damage last night.”
“Just calling you to let you know I left the house early today, and I’m at the company office. I’ll be working late.”
“How late?”
“Maybe 11 p.m. I’ll call you when I’m on the way home.”
“Okay,” I respond.
“Enjoy your day, baby.”
I spend the day working on a painting for my new collection, and playing with my boy. He said his first two words today—“my mommy.” I call Julian to tell him the news. He is ecstatic, but a little disappointed that he wasn’t there to witness his son’s first words.
In the evening, I have dinner by myself, read my boy a story, and tuck him into bed. I’m sleepy, so I shower and get ready for bed. I check the time on the bed stand clock before lying down; it’s 10:27 p.m.
I close my eyes and assume that by the time Julian comes home, I’ll be asleep. I toss and turn in bed, trying to get comfortable. I lay on my side. I glance at the time on the clock; it’s 10:44.
I stare at the dark ceiling and listen to the quiet. Why does it get quieter at night? I never noticed the eerie silence at night until now.
I check the time again; it’s 11:12. Where is he? I grab my cell phone from the bed stand and call him. When he doesn’t reply, I call him several more times. I head downstairs in my white camisole and panties, a pink silk robe thrown over me.
I turn on the lights in the living room. There are no signs of him. I call him several more times. I check the time; it’s 11:35. Panic begins to set in.
I glance around the living room. The massive mansion feels so incredibly empty and lonely without Julian. When he’s here, his presence is so powerful that it seems to fill our entire home.
I sit
on the couch by the fireplace where Julian and I have shared many warm, cozy nights cuddled up to each other. Though we haven’t been married long, we’ve created so many pleasant memories together in this home.
The longer I wait, the lonelier I feel. I keep checking the time. When it hits 12:00 a.m., panic devours me. Where the fuck is he?
I call and text him several times, but he doesn’t reply. I stare at my cell phone, anxious and aggravated. Every second feels like torture.
Suddenly, my phone rings and I rush to answer it.
“Hello? Julian, where are you?” I yell into the phone.
“I’ll be there soon.” His voice is clipped.
Everything is telling me he is cheating. I have to get to the bottom of this. My pulse is pounding and my nerves are on edge. I fidget with my phone as I wait for Julian.
As soon as I hear his footsteps in the living room, I stand and lock eyes with him. “Julian, I thought you said you’d be here at 11. I was calling you and texting you and—”
“Shhh…I’m sorry,” Julian says as he raises his hand to show me an enormous bouquet of long-stemmed red roses. “Let’s put them in water.”
“You really think flowers are going to make up for this?” I huff.
Julian ignores me, sets down his leather briefcase, and enters the kitchen. He comes out a few minutes later carrying the incredibly beautiful bouquet of what looks to be fifty red roses in a gorgeous gold vase. He places them on the coffee table and glances at me. “What do you think?”
I don’t say a word as I watch him carefully. He approaches me and lifts my chin to meet his eyes.
“I told you I was working late, didn’t I?”
“I was waiting. You were late. I was worried.” I frown and glance away, unable to look him in the eyes.
“What about these? Take a look.” Julian pulls something out of his inside suit jacket pocket.
My eyes are drawn to a pair of sparkling flower-shaped diamond earrings in the palm of his hand.
“Do you like these?”
“Are you trying to buy an apology?” I meet his eyes before I glance back down at the earrings. They really are stunning.
“They’re Harry Winston. Twenty-three carats. Flawless.”
“They’re beautiful,” I respond.
“Let me put them on for you.” He sits beside me, applies each earring gently to my ear, and pulls back to look at me. “They look beautiful on you.”
He tries to undress me, but I stop him immediately. “I’m not in the mood.”
Julian kisses my neck, reaches between my silk robe and under my camisole, and grabs my breast. He stands up and pulls me toward him.
“No.” I push him away.
He grabs me tighter and places his hand over my mouth. “Shhh,” he whispers into my ear.
He picks me up and carries me upstairs into the master bedroom, then locks the door and throws me on the bed.
“Julian, no,” I cry out. He thinks it’s role play, but I’m in no mood for games.
I stand up and he grabs me fast and hard, placing his hand over my mouth. I struggle in his arms, but with his heaving chest and his muscular arms tightening their grip around me, it’s becoming increasingly hard to keep myself from getting aroused.
He throws me hard onto the bed and gets on top of me. I shove him away.
“Flowers and jewelry aren’t enough. I’d rather have you home than receive apology gifts from you.”
Julian suddenly looks perplexed and frowns. Realization triggers in his eyes, then disappointment.
“Have it your way,” he mumbles, sounding upset.
I get under the silk bed covers and turn onto my side, away from him. Flowers and jewelry are not enough. I want loyalty.
I feel Julian’s hot breath as he kisses my shoulders and neck. “I have a surprise for you,” he whispers, his breath blowing into my ear.
I blink my eyes open into the bright morning sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our bedroom. I look up at the face that makes my heart beat a mile a minute. I am breathless for a moment as he pierces me with his bright azure blue eyes, but I quickly recall his misdeed last night.
“Why were you so late last night?” I study his face.
“I told you, sweetheart, I was working late,” he murmurs. “I’ll make it up to you today.”
I realize today is the start of the weekend and that Julian intends to spend the entire day with me.
“I’m sorry for last night,” Julian says. “Let’s enjoy our day together.”
I accept his apology because I still have not been able to confirm my suspicions.
Julian and I have breakfast together, then spend the morning teaching our boy more words. In the afternoon, we go for a family picnic with our dogs and our boy.
We pick a spot to lay out our picnic blanket, snacks, and champagne in the massive backyard, surrounded by soaring mountains and a winding river.
The alpine air is crisp and fresh after the nighttime rain. The bright yellow sun is shining brightly in the blue sky, warming my skin. It’s so incredibly peaceful and quiet; all that can be heard is the flowing river nearby.
In between kisses, we feed each other chocolate-covered strawberries and blueberries, and wash down the sweetness with a crisp, light-tasting champagne.
Our picnic is pure gluttony. We kiss, drink, and eat all afternoon until our lips are chapped and our stomachs are overstuffed. My head is spinning with a nice buzz.
I have to beg Julian to stop feeding me and pouring me more champagne.
“Any more food and champagne and I will explode,” I warn.
“You’re much too skinny, Cheryl,” Julian insists. “You can indulge once in a while.”
The buzz in my head is increasing and I can’t sit up properly without feeling a head rush, so I lay my head on Julian’s lap and gaze up at the blue sky. I breathe in the fresh air and soak up the warmth of the sun’s rays. I close my eyes and appreciate the perfection of the moment.
I hear several pings and feel Julian reaching for the cell phone in his pocket. I’m feeling too tipsy and blissful to open my eyes.
I hear Julian frantically tapping at his cell phone, then shoving it back into his pocket. I hear another ping and he ignores it. After several pings, he reaches for his cell phone again.
“Who are you texting?” I mumble.
He doesn’t respond for a while as he reads his cell phone screen. An adrenaline rush causes me to shoot up and grab his phone from him. I gasp when I read the text message:
I miss you baby. When will I see you again?
“Oh my God, who is she?” I scream.
“Cheryl, baby, it’s a mistake,” he quickly responds.
My heart rises up to my throat and I’m suddenly trembling.
“You’re cheating on me?” I yell.
Julian tries to take back his phone, but I stride toward the house, firmly gripping the phone in my hand.
He rushes after me. “Cheryl, stop, let me explain.”
“How could you do this to me?” I scream at the top of my lungs.
“Cheryl, please,” Julian calls.
“I can’t believe this,” I scream. An unstoppable stream of tears rushes down my cheeks, blurring my vision as I run into the house. It feels like my heart has been stabbed with a sharp blade—the pain is unbearable.
Julian runs after me into the living room and sets down our son.
“You’re cheating on me,” I scream, tears streaming endlessly down my face. “You’re fucking cheating on me.”
“Cheryl, stop,” Julian commands loudly. “Let me explain.” He approaches me, but I put my hands on his chest and shove him back as hard as I can.
“I fucking hate you, how could you do this to me?” I scream hysterically. “I thought that we were going to settle down. I thought that after all we went through, you really loved me.” I say all this through bursts of tears, whimpers, and sobs.
“Let me explain, Cheryl,
” Julian says, looking annoyed.
I’m so angry, if I had the strength I would punch him, knock him out, but instead I shove him back as hard as I can.
“There’s nothing to explain, I saw the text message. You fucking cheater, you fucking liar, I fucking hate you,” I yell at the top of my lungs.
“Enough, Cheryl,” he yells. “I don’t know who it’s from.”
“I don’t fucking believe you,” I scream. “I was so naïve. I am so stupid for loving you. I should have known.”
“Cheryl, listen to me,” Julian shouts, frustrated.
“I’m not listening to any more of your bullshit.” I just want to stab him the way he stabbed me, hurt him the way he hurt me. I grab the vase with roses from the coffee table and, with all the strength in my arms, I throw it at him. He ducks just in time; the vase shatters loudly and scatters into a million pieces across the floor.
Julian rushes for our son and lifts him into his arms. I gasp, suddenly feeling stupid for not noticing that he was in the living room.
I know I’ve gone mad, but I can’t control myself. I rush toward Julian, trying to rip our son from his arms. Julian frowns but finally lets me take our son.
Our son starts crying uncontrollably. I rush upstairs and into the master bedroom, where I slam and lock the door. A few minutes later I hear several urgent knocks.
“Mrs. Stone, Julian says it’s better if I take him right now,” the nanny says from the other side of the door.
He won’t stop crying, and I realize that it’s better if he isn’t around his crazy mommy for the moment. I open the door and hand him to her before slamming the door shut.
I fling myself onto the bed and let loose a never-ending stream of tears. I guess my suspicions were right—he is cheating. After everything we’ve been through, after I fell hard for him, after settling down and having a family, he decides I’m not good enough anymore.
I am startled when I hear several loud knocks at the door.
“Cheryl, open the door,” Julian commands.
“Go away,” I say through loud sobs.
Covet: Trusting the Billionaire (The Trophy Wife Book 4) Page 6