For two days, all we did was hide in the penthouse apartment that Michael owns, doing nothing. Then, on the third day, he left early, leaving only a note beside my bedside table that he would be out until late evening and that I was not allowed to leave the house.
Allowed? Is he trying to keep me prisoner?
I would have wanted to rebel but thought better of it. Instead, I started my research and locked myself in his library, which works as his home office as well.
I was so engrossed in what I was doing that my heart nearly left my body when I felt a touch on my shoulder.
"Have you been here all day?" He asked. His outfit indicated that he went to work. I turned to the side to look at Micheal in his grey suit. He looks impeccable. Then I glanced at the wall clock and saw that it was past ten in the evening.
"I got too absorbed in the research," I noticed that my throat seemed parched and my voice sounded scratchy.
"Then you must be hungry." He helped me out of the seat, "Let's eat out. Just wear a simple dress, nothing fancy." he ordered as he started closing books on the table and pushing me out of the library.
Since he was wearing a grey suit, I decided to go with a grey jersey dress with a scooped V-neckline. I was just putting on my high heels when he walked out of another room, adjusting the cuffs on his black long-sleeved shirt.
"You look nice." he smiled and offered me his arm to hold as I lifted my foot for the other heeled shoe.
We went to a gorgeous Italian restaurant. The atmosphere was quiet and intimate, with only a few other people dining. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he took my hand and led me to the small open space in the restaurant for a spontaneous slow dance. As we tried to sway to the music, our laughter filled the air each time I clumsily stepped on his foot - three times.
Just as I was about to take a bite of cheesecake, someone called his name and approached our table. The copper-haired woman air-kissed the sides of his face and gestured towards our table.
"Does Becca know you are here?" Oh, a friend of his fiancée. I tried to mentally ask him with my eyes if I should discreetly leave or offer an explanation, but he just subtly shook his head. And I silently waited to see what conclusion the woman would come up with.
"Samantha, this is Melissandra, a friend of Rebecca." he gestures towards the woman who is eyeing me suspiciously. "Lissand, this is - "
"Oh, Mr. Smith," the server approached our table with an exquisite bottle of wine. He said, "The owner would like to gift you and your wife this wine to congratulate your marriage."
I heard the air go out of Melissandra's mouth in outrage before I heard the loud smacking sound of her hand meeting his face, resonating as the restaurant fell silent. It was almost comical how the server seemed to panic and what to do.
"Lissand," a voice exclaimed with astonishment from the entrance patio. I lifted my gaze and spotted a stunning, slender woman with lustrous mahogany hair making her way toward us.
I'd recognize her from the ads in some boutique - the supermodel, Rebecca Ciel. The fiancée Micheal mentioned during one of our phone calls.
"Excuse me, is there a private room we can use?" I asked the dumbfounded server, who was still holding the wine bottle.