Covet: Trusting the Billionaire (The Trophy Wife Book 4) (4 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

Julian and I have breakfast together, and after breakfast Julian heads to his home office while I sit at the kitchen island, sorting through the mail. Little Julian is sitting in his high chair, watching me while the nanny and I chat.

The nanny is one of the best in Europe. She has over twenty-five years of experience. She has a child psychology degree and all kinds of certifications, including nutrition, early childhood education, child development, positive discipline, water safety, first aid, and CPR. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

“We need to introduce him to other children. I suggest planning weekly or even daily playdates. Now is the best time for socialization and interaction with other children,” the nanny informs me.

I’m listening to her as I sort the mail. Suddenly, I come across a small envelope addressed to me. My breathing rapidly increases. I open the envelope and read the note inside it:

He is cheating on you with me.

The nanny keeps talking, but her voice fades away and all I hear is my heartbeat in my ears. A cold breeze washes over me. I’m holding the letter in my hands, staring at the sentence as though paralyzed.

I finally snap out of it. “I’m going upstairs. I’ll be back,” I tell the nanny.

I bypass Julian’s office and head into our master bedroom. I tuck the letter into one of the drawers of my walk-in closet.

I don’t want to panic, but it’s hard not to. I decide to follow Yula’s advice and not confront Julian until I have collected sufficient evidence.

I take a breath as I stand outside Julian’s office. I knock at the door and wait.

“Come in, Cheryl,” Julian calls.

I push open the door. Julian smiles warmly when he lays his eyes on me. My heart squeezes in pain.
I love him so much.

I’m suddenly unable to speak as I gaze at Julian. My heart is hammering, my palms are sweaty, and I find it hard to breathe.

“Have you got my mail, my beauty?” Julian asks.

“I…um…yes, it’s downstairs. I’ll bring it up.”

“That’s perfect, Cheryl, thank you.”

I return with Julian’s company mail and place it on his desk. I turn around to leave.

“Cheryl, is everything okay?” Julian calls out.

I turn around and face him. His azure blue eyes scan my face, analyzing me carefully.

“Yes, everything is good,” I say as brightly as I can.

I walk out of his office and close the door. I stand there for a moment, trying to pull myself together.
I can’t panic yet, I don’t have any solid proof
.

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I picture Julian’s extraordinarily handsome face: bright blue eyes, straight nose, fleshy lips, defined cheekbones, and sharp jawline.
How can any woman not resist his extremely good looks and irresistible charm?

Julian’s ridiculously good looks, unlimited wealth, and alpha-male status are just too good to pass up. He’s the type of man women want, and whom other men want to be.

I need to figure out how to gain access to his computer, or at least look through his cell phone. I go back downstairs and preoccupy myself with my little boy as I wait for Julian to leave for work.

He leaves the mansion at noon. I quickly head upstairs and discover that the office is locked.
What is he hiding?

I hear the house phone ring and rush into the master bedroom to pick up the phone from the bed stand.

“Hello?”

I hear someone breathing over the phone; it sends a chill down my spine.

“Who is this?” I shout.

The breathing continues and it creeps me out. I hang up.

The phone immediately rings again. I stare at it and finally pick it up again.

“Who is this?” I yell into the phone.

There is no response, only eerie silence. I hang up and call Julian’s cell.

“Cheryl,” Julian answers.

“Someone called and—”

“I’m just heading into a meeting. I’ll call you back,” Julian interrupts, sounding rushed.

“But—”

“I love you,” Julian says before hanging up.

When he doesn’t call back for several hours, I call his cell phone, but it has been turned off, so I call his office directly.

“Mr. Stone’s office,” Julian’s female secretary chirps.

“It’s Mrs. Stone. I need to speak with Julian,” I demand.

“Sorry, he’s very busy at the moment. I can take a message if you like,” she says abruptly.

“I don’t care if he’s busy. Julian said I can reach him any time I want. Put him on the phone; his cell phone is off.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. He’s not accepting any calls currently,” she says in a bitchy tone.

“I don’t care how busy he is, put him on the phone,” I yell.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Stone, I don’t mean to upset you, but I really can’t do that right now,” she replies in a harsh tone that makes my skin crawl.

“We’ll see about that,” I respond, livid, and hang up.

What if he’s sleeping with her?

My cell phone rings and I jump to answer it. “Hello?”

“Cheryl, you called me?” Julian responds. “Is everything okay?”

“Your female secretary was such a bitch to me. I don’t—”

“We’ll talk about it when I get home, baby,” he replies abruptly. “I have to go now.”

Julian comes home in the evening and we sit together for dinner. I’m agitated and anxious. We are served dinner by two maids and are then left alone.

I clear my throat. “Who is that secretary of yours?”

“Her name is Milana,” Julian responds quietly as he eats.

“That’s a unique name,” I say casually.

Julian raises an eyebrow and examines my face carefully.

“Are you jealous?” Julian stops eating. “Do you not trust me?”

“I don’t like the idea of a female secretary working for you. And she was such a bitch when I tried to reach you.”

“She’s just doing her job, Cheryl.”

“I don’t like her,” I say firmly.

When he remains silent, I clear my throat. “Does she have to work for you?”

“I can’t let her go without a reason,” Julian responds. “She’s been working for me for several years now. I don’t trust just anyone to work for me.”

I frown.
I don’t know if I trust you.

“Marriage is based on trust, Cheryl,” Julian says as he gazes long and hard at me. “If you don’t trust me, I want you to let me know.”

I recall the letters I’ve received, but Yula’s advice comes to mind: “If you confront him too early, you can be sure he won’t confess. Gather some proof first, then confront him.”

“It’s just that your secretary was so rude to me over the phone,” I explain.

Julian appears surprised. “I’ve known her for many years. She’s a very nice woman.”

“Maybe to you she is,” I grumble.

There is a long bout of uncomfortable silence.

“I love you, Cheryl,” Julian whispers. “You need to tell me if you have any doubts about me.”

I remain silent as I watch Julian’s forehead crinkle.

“Anyway,” Julian says quietly, “tell me, how was your day?”

I continue to eat, ignoring him, acting as though I hadn’t heard him.

“The nanny mentioned that our son needs some playdates.” Julian resumes eating. “Why don’t you call those two girls you got along with at the party? They seemed to really like you and they also have children whom our son can play with. I’ll give you their numbers.”

“I have their numbers,” I say sternly.

“Good, then give them a call, and invite them over sometime,” Julian instructs. “How is your artwork coming along?”

“I have nine pieces completed so far.”

“Great. We’ll need several more if you want me to arrange a private gallery viewing,” Julian explains.

In the morning, Julian and I have breakfast, then he heads upstairs to his office. I sit at the kitchen island and begin sorting the mail. I come across another letter addressed to me. I rip it open in frustration, take a deep breath, and read it:

He is cheating on you with me and he is planning on leaving you to be with me.

My mind goes blank for a moment.
What the fuck?
My face heats up as I stare at the words.

I rush into the kitchen with the letter, grab a pair of scissors, cut the paper into tiny pieces, and throw them into the trash.
He is not leaving me. That’s not happening.

The problem is that even if he really were cheating, would I be able to let him go that easily? My head is heavy and weighed down from my anguish.

It’s not just his looks, his money, or his power. Sure, those are great, but mostly it’s the way he makes me feel. No man can ever make me feel the way Julian makes me feel. I can’t imagine my life without him.
But if I find out he is cheating, what will I do?

I take a deep breath and try to pull myself together. I’m trembling and my stomach feels wound up in knots. I head back to the pile of mail on the island and slowly sort through it with shaky fingers, trying to deny my worst fears and act as though everything were normal.

Once I’ve finished, I head to Julian’s office with the company mail and a cup of coffee. When I step inside, he’s not there. I approach his desk, set down the mail and coffee, and sit in front of his computer.

The computer is unlocked. I quickly open the browser and look through his history.

It’s all been cleared.
Julian is too careful, too smart.

I’m surprised when I’m able to open his email. I scan his inbox and find only work emails. I look through the trash folder and scan the various names. I freeze when I see an email from his secretary, Milana. I open the email and read it:

I just want to say I’m sorry.

I check the date. It was sent yesterday. Then, Julian’s gruff voice startles me.

“Cheryl, what are you doing?”

I look up from the computer screen as he approaches.

“I’m just checking my email,” I respond quickly, closing his email.

“You have you own computer to do that.”

I leap up from the desk and smile. “I brought your mail and coffee.”

“I can see that.” Julian sounds irritated. “Why don’t you go take care of the baby,” he commands. “I have a lot of work to do.”

I frown and hurry out of his office.
What is he hiding?

CHAPTER SIX

In the morning, I call my mother and ask how she is settling into her new home. She tells me she’s in the process of decorating and picking out furniture, but says that any time I need her to babysit she will gladly come by.

I also call Anita and Sandra and arrange for them to come over for lunch with their children. Sandra tells me she is unable to make it, but Anita gladly accepts my invitation and we set a time for the afternoon.

I busy myself with making sure that the three maids have arranged everything properly and that the dining room looks presentable for lunch. I’ve made sure that three beautiful short-stemmed white and pink rose bouquets are on the dining room table. Numerous white and pink candles are arranged at the center of the table. The crystal chandler set above the dining room table is polished to perfection.

The doorbell rings and I rush to answer it. The two Dobermans run up to the door before me. I step around them and open the door.

“Hello, Cheryl.” Anita flashes her bright white teeth at me. She is holding her son in her arms. She is dressed in a long, flowing white dress, a white Hermès Birkin purse, and yellow gold Chanel earrings, bracelet, and watch. Her long, light blonde hair is flowing in thick, loose waves down her shoulders. She looks stunning, like a model from
Vogue
.

“Come in,” I say warmly. “You look fabulous.”

“Thank you.” She steps in and I close the door. She follows me into the living room.

“Your home is beautiful,” she chirps. “So grand.”

“Thank you,” I reply. “We only really use a small part of it; the rest is just amenities. I could give you the complete tour if you like. We have an indoor pool, a theatre, a—”

“That’s okay,” she interrupts. “I’m here to get to know you. Although your home is spectacular, you can save the tour for another time.”

“Do you want a drink?” I ask as she takes a seat on the white couch in the living room, her son in her lap. She really blends into our all-white décor.

“Sure. I’ll have some champagne.”

The nanny brings out little Julian and lets him get acquainted with Anita’s son while I prepare drinks. I come back with two flutes of champagne and join her on the couch.

“Cheers.” She clicks my glass. “To our new friendship.”

We drink our champagne as we watch our boys play together.

“They seem to really get along,” she remarks.

“So, how is Julian?”

“Oh, he’s great…he’s been working a lot lately. He’s working on some huge business acquisition with a few of his colleagues.”

“That’s wonderful,” she responds. “Yes, Julian is somewhat of a workaholic, but I guess that’s the attitude that got him where he is today.”

“So…I never had a chance to get to know your husband at the party. Tell me more about him. What does he do?”

“Oh, my husband is pretty much retired, so he spends the days with me and our son. We usually do something family-oriented during the day, and then we go out for dinner at night.”

“Wow, that’s really nice.”

“Yes, well, he has more than enough money, and he wants to focus on raising a family right now. It’s nice when a man can retire young and focus on family life.”

“How old is your husband?”

“He’s forty-one.”

I suddenly feel very uncomfortable.
Why doesn’t Julian retire? He has more than enough money.

In the evening, Julian and I sit cuddled next to each other on the couch by the blazing wood-burning fireplace with a bottle of red wine.

“Do you really need to work as much as you do?”

“Cheryl, what are you talking about?” Julian frowns.

“I just want you to be home most of the time, and spend as much time with me and our son as possible. Why do you need to work? You have more than enough money.”

“Cheryl, you need to understand that I don’t work for the money. I work because I like to. I’m passionate about my work and my businesses. You need to understand that you mean everything to me, but my work also means a lot to me.”

I take a sip of wine and scowl into the blazing fire.

Is that his excuse, a reason to get out of the house and fuck other women?
Am I just another acquisition to add to his vast collection of possessions? Why not have a trophy wife as well as girlfriends to fuck on the side?

Julian brushes my hair to one side of my shoulder and kisses my bare neck.

“I love you, Cheryl,” he whispers.

Were those lips on another woman today?

“I don’t know if you really love me,” I reply. “Maybe you love me as nothing more than another one of your possessions.”

“Cheryl, what are you talking about?” He sounds shocked.

I glare at the fire, refusing to look at him.

He takes my wine glass from my hand and puts it on the side table. He lifts up my chin and turns my head to meet his eyes. “You know you are the most important thing in my life.”

“Your trophy wife, right?” I raise my eyebrow.

“Yes, but you’re also much more than that.” Julian rubs his thumb over my lips as he admires my face lovingly.

“Trophy wives are replaceable.” I swivel my head and gaze back at the fire to avoid his eyes. It hurts to look at him and imagine him with another woman.

“You know, Cheryl, you’ve been acting really strange lately. What’s going on?” Julian asks.

“Nothing,” I huff. “I’m going to bed.”

I make my way upstairs and get ready for bed. A few minutes later, when Julian joins me under the bed covers, I turn onto my side, away from him. He caresses my arm and doesn’t say anything for a while.

“You’re not replaceable to me, Cheryl,” he whispers.

I squeeze my eyes shut. My soul feels tortured. I’ve never had so many doubts and insecurities in my life. Being married to Julian is not what I thought it would be. If he wasn’t so covetable, it would be so much easier to trust him.

In the morning, after breakfast, Julian heads up to his office. I grab my transparent glass tablet and make myself comfortable on one of the white couches in the living room overlooking the mountain-filled view outside. I tap the screen and initiate a video call to my mother.

She smiles when she sees me. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m good,” I mutter.

“What’s wrong, Cheryl?” There is no hiding my emotions from her.

“Well, I’m just disappointed, that’s all. Something is really bugging me.”

“What is it?” she asks gently, sounding concerned.

“Julian works more than he needs to. He has more than enough money, and I don’t understand why he can’t just retire and spend more time with the family.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

“Yes and he simply said he works because he’s passionate about it and even though I mean a lot to him, his work means a lot to him, too.”

“Julian is right. You mean a lot to him, but couples need to have a life outside of their marriage. That way they have more of themselves to share with each other, and they are happier. How is your oil painting going, Cheryl?”

“I haven’t been able to focus on that lately, but I’ll have to get back into it.”

“I strongly encourage that. Julian might decide to retire in the future, but until then, take the time to pursue your passions.”

With that little bit of encouragement from my mother, I spend the afternoon working on a new painting. It helps take my mind off Julian, and I actually escape into a peaceful trance for a few hours as I listen to music and create an abstract painting of Geneva with various colors.

I’m awakened from my trance and saddened when a song’s lyrics resonate inside me:
The future that we hold is so unclear…This is a modern fairytale…No happy endings, no wind in our sails, but I can’t imagine a life without breathless moments
.

That’s exactly what Julian gives me—breathless moments—and I can’t imagine life without him. However, just as the song suggests, not every modern fairytale has a happy ending.

In the evening, after dinner, Julian suggests that we go dancing. I push aside any concerns because more than anything I want more breathless moments with him.

I get dressed in a dark green knee-length dress by Elie Saab. Julian is dressed in a black button-down shirt, black pants, and a black suit jacket. We leave our wedding rings at home and head to the same exclusive club we went to before.

Julian drives his red Saleen S7. It’s a sleek and unique car that I had only heard of until I rode in it for the first time.

As usual, Julian and I are treated like royalty and ushered into the club so that we can avoid the hours-long lineup at the entrance.

Julian leaves me standing alone at the lit-up bar. I can feel his burning-hot gaze on me, but I can’t spot him among the crowd.

I suddenly feel another pair of eyes on me. When I look to my left, I see a man with bright green eyes and dark brown hair glaring hard at me.

He scrutinizes me with intimidating, greedy eyes as though I’m a mouthwatering piece of meat. A lascivious smile tugs at his lips. I glare back at him, but when he doesn’t look away, I turn my back to him, facing the bar to avoid his scrutiny. Then I feel uncomfortable, knowing that he’s probably staring at my ass.

I feel Julian’s masculine presence before I see him. I get a whiff of his delicious, manly, spicy cologne.

“Drink?” he whispers into my ear as he wraps his arm around my waist.

“Sure,” I reply.

“What are you having?”

“I’ll have a glass of champagne.”

Julian waves over the bartender with his Black Amex, orders a flute of Dom Pérignon, and slides it over to me on the bar.

“Your name?”

“Cheryl, and yours?”

“Julian.” He offers his hand.

I shake his hand and shiver as a charge runs from Julian’s hand into my own and then up my arm.
Fuck, what is that?

He gently raises my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles while steadily holding my gaze. I’m holding my breath as I gape at his handsome face and gleaming, jet-black hair.

“Nice to meet you,” he whispers before putting my hand back down.

He remains silent, piercing me with his deep gaze. His energy speaks louder than words.

I bite my lower lip and glance away for a second to catch my breath. I take a sip of champagne and turn my attention back toward him.

I feel someone brush against my shoulder and I glance to my left to see the brown-haired man with green eyes smiling at me. His eyes are bloodshot, and he looks drunk, if not high. I glance back at Julian, who does not look happy.

“Hey, how about I offer you a drink after you finish that one,” the man says forcefully.

“Back off,” Julian growls as he bristles, stepping toward the man and fixing him with a back-off-now glare.

“Hey, just because she’s talking to you doesn’t mean you own her.” The man’s bright green eyes glower at Julian.

“She’s my wife,” Julian snarls.

The man glances at my hand and then back up. “I don’t see a wedding ring.”

I notice traces of white powder directly underneath the man’s nose, which instantly reminds me of Derek. I shiver with disgust.

“I’ll fight you for her,” the man says confidently.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Julian growls.

“That’s what I said.”

Julian rushes forward and aims a punch, but the man blocks it with his arm and throws a blow to Julian’s stomach.

I back away from the men in surprise, dropping my champagne flute. It shatters violently on the floor. I quickly step farther away from the men as I watch them trade a round of punches.

They are moving so fast, arms swinging and feet bobbing. Adrenaline spikes and moves through my veins. I glance around; several people are watching now.

The man lunges at Julian and swings a punch at his head, which Julian blocks. The man tries to aim another punch, but Julian ducks and charges the man, pushing him back hard and nearly knocking him over.

Julian sends a series of jabs to the man’s side, so hard they make loud, cracking sounds. The man tries to aim a punch, but Julian steps back. Julian lands a fast, hard punch, smashing the man’s face; blood sprays from his nose.

Julian lands a powerful sidekick and knocks the man to the ground. The man struggles as Julian lands on top of him and delivers a final, knockout punch to the head. It’s so powerful, the man’s eyes slam shut; he appears unconscious.

Julian stands up, calmly straightens his suit, and strides over to me. He grabs my hand and pulls me toward a different area of the club with another lit-up bar.

“Is that guy okay?” I ask, eyes wide.

“Oh yeah, he’ll be fine. They’ll carry him out and he’ll wake up in a few hours at the hospital,
”
Julian says casually. “Now, where were we? Let me buy you another drink.”