Fiance Next Door

Mason doesn’t move. He just stays still in my arms. Eventually, I feel his breathing slow down. His arms stop trembling. His shoulders relax.

That’s it.

Once he’s calmed down, he pats my shoulder. I pull away.

“Are you alright?” I ask him.

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Was it about your time in the Army?”

That’s the only thing I can think of.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Of course not. He just had a nightmare about it, after all.

“What are you doing here?” Mason looks at me. “I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” I answer. “But I woke up and I heard you having a nightmare.”

His thick eyebrows crease. “You heard me from your room?”

“No. I was walking outside and…”

“Did I scream?”

I sigh. “I came to your room to see if you were back from work.”

I might as well admit it.

“Oh.” He gets off the bed and turns his back to me as he unbuttons his shirt, now drenched in sweat. “Well, as you can see, I’m back. And I’m fine now. You can go.”

He’s dismissing me. I caught him in a moment of weakness. I saw a side of him he didn’t want me to see, so now he wants me to leave and forget what just happened.

Oh well. I guess I’ll just ask him about the job some other time.

I get off the bed, about to leave, but something on the bedside table catches my eye – an envelope with a logo I recognize.

My eyes grow wide as I pick it up.

“Is this from Desiree Wright?” I ask Mason.

“I think so. You know her?”

“I’ve heard of her,” I gush. “She’s an amazing artist. She paints. She does unique photo collages. She creates these incredible 3D art installations. I guess you can say I’m a fan.”

I turn the envelope over.

“This is an invitation.” I open it and take the card out. “To an exhibit and gala with proceeds to go to children who are victims of domestic abuse.”

I put the card back and turn to Mason.

“Are you going?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he answers.

I tear my gaze away from his bare chest and abdomen. Isn’t he going to wear a shirt?

“But you sound like you want to go. Do you?”

“Yeah,” I answer as I put the envelope down. “I’d like to meet her, if that’s possible. And of course, I’d like to help those children, too.”

“Okay. Then I guess we’re going.”

I look at him with wide eyes. “We are?”

Mason grins as he nods. “It’s about time Mrs. Burke makes an appearance to the world, don’t you think?”

Chapter Twelve ~ Belle Of The Ball

Mason

Galas. Parties. Balls. I’ve been to dozens of them.

They were a necessity at first. I needed investors for my company, and the best places to find them were these red-carpet gatherings of the wealthy. I didn’t like them then. I was new to the scene and everyone knew it. I was nervous, awkward. My only advantages were that I looked good in a suit and had been in the Army, something a lot of people were eager to hear about.

Eventually, I got enough investors. My company took off. I kept going to parties because they were opportunities for the publicity I still needed. I wasn’t just the CEO of my company but its face.

Then I had my breakthrough. After that, I got more invitations than ever. I went to some of them just to maintain publicity and a good image. And to have fun. That was the time galas started to be fun, because I had nothing left to prove, no one important left to please. Well, that was the time I started to have enemies, too, of course, but I had no need to please them. In fact, I’d go to some of the galas just to see the hopeless looks on their faces.

I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun as I will tonight, though, I surmise as I enter the gallery with Aster next to me. After all, tonight is the first night I’m attending a party with a woman on my arm. And not just any woman.

My lovely wife.

Aster looks stunning in her emerald green dress. The bodice, which has flecks of gold, hangs from around her neck and leaves her back bare. The layers of fabric flow from her waist. With each step Aster takes, I hear her skirt rustle. It moves around her, wrapping around her leg one moment and leaving it bare up until the middle of her thigh the next. Her red hair is a beautiful mess, most of it pulled back and the rest curled and cascading over the sides of her face. It almost makes her look like a mermaid.

Nope, not a mermaid from a fairytale but a siren from a Greek myth. Alluring.

I can already see the heads of men turning in her direction, their eyes growing wide in surprise and then narrowing in appreciation. I can hear the women gasp and murmur. I place my hand on Aster’s, hold my chin up and smile at them. My chest swells with pride.