Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
I try to reapply myself to the business deal I’m reviewing, but my attention keeps straying to my computer and the security program. I told myself that I can’t be watching her all the time.
But I can’t keep my hands from reaching toward the keyboard, from opening the security program, from pressing the play button. Yesterday’s footage shows her going to a coffee shop nearby. She returns home empty-handed. Her expression seems sad. The cookware is set on the counter in the kitchen. Rise entered while she was gone, which means she hasn’t changed the code yet. I lift my pen to make a note, but before I do, she snaps her fingers and rushes to door. Looking at the instructions I sent, she resets the digital password. Unfortunately, her body is blocking the keypad, so I can’t see what her new code is. That’s inconvenient, but at least Rise can’t enter.
Back in the kitchen, she unpacks everything. Her shoulders look higher and her expression less dejected. She must have had a bad experience at the coffee shop. I’ll have to find out who bothered her and ruin their lives.
After she unpacks everything, she stands in the kitchen with her hands on her hips surveying the space. Then she gets to work. The making of scones is a fascinating process. I get nothing done as I watch a one-person baking show. She eats only two of them before setting five on a plate and covering it with plastic wrap. Uncooked ones are laid on a baking sheet and placed in the freezer. Four more are put under a glass-lidded stand. I lick my lips. It would be weird to go over there and demand that she bake me more of them.
Once she’s done cleaning, she heads to her bedroom and closes the door. I stare at that six-panel wooden door for far too long before forcing my attention back to the business report. But the words and numbers swim in front of my face. I need to see her face-to-face. The cameras are not enough. I thought they would be, but I was wrong.
A year of seeing her only through surveillance footage will drive me crazy. The next time she goes to the coffee shop, I’ll be there. We can meet, get to know each other. Then what? I don’t know. She’s not to know who I am, that I’m her husband. That was the deal. She would never have to meet me, touch me, sleep with me. It was an impersonal deal where she would play a role and be rewarded for it.
I told her it was because I needed to close a business deal. In truth, it was because I saw her once from a distance, heard her speak, and…then became obsessed with her. Is this love? I don’t know. The only thing that makes sense to me is that I have to have her, and so I made up this scenario, saying I needed her for one year. After that year, she would be free. That was the lie I told her. I don’t plan to let her go.
Chapter Five
ANNABELLE
I’m going stir-crazy in this house. It’s so quiet it’s almost eerie. Plus, the email I’d gotten from a woman by the name of Caroline Winthrop has given me anxiety. I’d wondered if I should forward it to Wick. It was an invite for a ladies' luncheon. It was addressed to me, but as Annabelle Wickham. It was pretty jarring to have someone address me that way.
I guess the word in the elite world of the wealthy is spreading. Is there a newsletter that goes out, or is it all word of mouth? I doubt that's a question I'll ever get the answer to. I'm not in that wealthy chain and never will be.
In my personal life, most people call me Belle. Not that I have much of a personal life at the moment. I don't want to bother Wick with this. He's clearly a very busy and important man, and these are things his wife needs to be doing. I decide against reaching out to him and simply respond that I'd love to attend. Maybe getting out will be good for me. I hope I can find a dress in my closet that will work.
Needing fresh air and human contact, even if at a distance, I shut my laptop and grab my things to go for a walk and maybe go back to the coffee shop. I grab my Kindle, tossing it into my purse.
I'm about to push the button for the elevator but pause, glancing down at myself. Do I need to dress up to simply leave to go for a walk? That may sound silly, but the stares and remarks are quite daunting around here. Everyone else is dressed to the nines while I roam around in normal comfy clothes.