“I’m sorry, Wills, I just couldn’t. And this is not something that I want to talk to you about on the phone. Or with Jameson in the room. No offence, Jameson.”
“None taken, honey,” Jameson’s deep, rumbly voice answered.
“I’m coming home,” Willa declared, her voice still wavering.
“No, you’re not. You still have a few weeks left, and I would feel incredibly guilty if you came home early because of me. Please don’t. I’m fine. Things are fine. We’ll talk when you get back. At the time that you’re supposed to come back.”
“I don’t like it. We are so not done talking about this.”
“I know. And we will talk about it. Just not now. Because now I have to go downstairs and figure out how I’m going to pretend to be happily engaged to David.”
“I love you. Always.”
“And I love you. Always. Now go and do something fun.”
We hung up and I swallowed a few times, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat.
I sent another message to Maisie, hoping she would answer. Usually her phone was attached to her hand. Not answering my messages was very unlike her.
It was time to sort out how this arrangement was going to work, and I went downstairs in search of David. He was in his office, sitting behind his large desk, staring at something on his computer screen.
He looked up when he heard me come in. “All settled in?”
“Getting there. What are you up to?” I cringed at the false cheer in my voice. I sure was dreadful at small talk.
“I’m just writing your mother’s victory speech.”
“Isn’t that a bit premature?”
“Not at all. She’s going to win the election.”
Okay, so I guess being a megalomaniac was contagious. He must have already spent too much time with my mother and convinced himself he was infallible.
“Right, so should we talk about how this is going to work?” I waved a hand around, not sure what I was pointing at.
“I already wrote down some guidelines,” David said and grabbed a piece of paper off his desk and held it out to me. I walked over and took it, afraid of what I was going to read. What had I gotten myself into?
If I thought it was going to be bad, it was worse.
Never disagree with me in public.
Always smile when there is a chance someone could take a photo of you.
Only wear new clothes, never wear last season’s fashion and never the same thing more than once.
Join the committee of a charity of your choosing.
Lighten your hair—my assistant made you an appointment for tomorrow.
Don’t let your skin tan.
Visit the spa every week—my assistant made you a regular appointment.
Only drive the cars I buy for you, and give yours back to your mother. I take care of you from now on.
Always be available for public appearances.
“Are you serious?” I asked, not sure I was reading this correctly. Was he insane?
“You may add points to the list, after I’ve approved them, of course. But that should be enough to get us started.”
He was serious. And he didn’t even look like he understood why this list might offend me. Or why I might not want to agree to any of the points he’d so kindly laid out for me.
I crumpled up the list and threw it on the floor. “I’m not agreeing to any of those points. I will be your wife—in name only. No way am I going to turn into your political puppet. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have suitcases to unpack.”
He followed me upstairs. “You don’t agree with the list? That’s fine, we can make amendments. But remember you signed a contract, which clearly states that this is going to be a five-year commitment. And that for all intents and purposes, it has to look real. And you know as well as I do that a politician’s wife needs to do all these things and more.”
I closed my eyes and hung my head. He was right. But that didn’t mean I liked it. “We can talk about it later. I just need to get my head around this.”
“Fine. But you can’t pick and choose what you like from this arrangement. You made a commitment and need to honor it.”
“I get it, okay? Just let me come to terms with it first.”
He left me in peace after I closed the door in his face. I half-heartedly unpacked one suitcase, but gave up when my hands started shaking from holding back my emotions that tried to bubble to the surface.
I guess I’d royally screwed myself over, going from one controlling home to another. I was a new kind of idiot if I thought I could finally have my freedom. David might be the lesser of two evils, but the next five years were going to be long.
“I talked to Mason. You can have your job back,” Willa said. I was on the phone with her for the third time today. I’d been staying with David for almost a week and talked to Willa every day.
First she tried to reason with me and insisted I send her the contract I signed. After I adamantly refused, she tried to talk me into moving back to her apartment. But since me living with David was the only way I didn’t have to move back home, it wasn’t an option. Not that I told her that.
“I don’t think I should go back to work, Wills. Things were bad when I left.”
“Since when are you such a chicken?”
Willa made a clucking sound and I looked up at the ceiling, praying for patience. I didn’t get a chance to comment on her impression of a chicken before she started imitated a rooster and was cock-a-doodle-dooing.
“What in the world are you doing?” I asked when the last note of her rooster noises rang out.
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Any good clucking needs to end in a serious cock-a-doodle-doo.”
“But seriously, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I
