My Unexpected Vow: California Billionaires Book 2 by Harlow James (children's ebooks free online TXT) 📗

The woman despises me, and fuck if I don’t love giving her ammunition to keep that perma-scowl on her face when I’m around. Before Las Vegas, I’m pretty sure she’d plotted my murder at least a dozen times, varying in her method of choice depending on how many times I called her Beaverly that day.

And now that we’re married, I know that hostility isn’t going to just go away. In fact, I’d imagine it will get worse, especially when we start to pick up on each other’s annoying habits and share common space throughout the house.

I laugh to myself at that thought before exiting my car and making my way into my home through the door that’s situated down a short hallway from my living room. I punch in the key code to my alarm system as soon as I walk inside and then flick on the light switch, basking in the solitude as I enjoy it for the last time.

I know Waverly was right to suggest living together. It’s the only way to make this marriage seem legitimate. But on the inside, I’m mourning the loss of my single life and welcoming the company of my hand for the unforeseeable future. I may enjoy sex, but the last thing I would do is cheat on Waverly, even if our ‘relationship’ isn’t completely real. Not only does she not deserve that, but if word got out about my infidelity, that would only fuel the dumpster fire that would ensue.

I stroll down the hallway that leads into the main part of the house, the open kitchen that rests right behind my living room, complete with white cabinets and black marbled countertops. Dark grey couches, light grey flooring, and white walls provide a backdrop for the pops of silver and green decor to shine and the overhead lighting to reflect off of the clean and bright surfaces. The cleanliness of the design choices brightens the room and speaks of a sophistication that compliments the phase of my life I’m in. I’m not in my twenties anymore, and I sure as hell have the bank account to confirm it, but I wanted my home to be cohesive and inviting, not a cold dwelling that I use for sleep and a shower only.

The open concept of this house is one of my favorite aspects, making it great for entertaining when I have a few buddies over. But it’s been a while since that’s happened, especially since Wes left for Santa Barbara and then went and fell in love.

I reach for the bottle of whiskey on the dark grey marble bar to the right of the kitchen, pouring myself a decent glass and yanking on my tie after I take my first sip. Drink in hand, I walk across the house, surveying the living room and the dining table situated up next to French doors that lead out onto the deck and overlook my pool. But the giant picture window next to the living room that also has a sliding door feature is my favorite part of the house. With one flick of a switch, the lighting in the backyard pops on, illuminating the turquoise water in the pool, the navy blue lounge chairs, and the solar lights strategically placed around the yard among the variety of plants that provide privacy.

I stand there, enjoying the view, basking in the calm it gives me before turning with my drink still in hand and gliding down the hall to the formal living room by the front door. Stepping further into the room, I shut the blinds with the switch on the wall before taking a seat at my white grand piano situated in the corner by the front window. I set my glass on the coaster atop of the sleek surface and tickle the keys, closing my eyes as the sound vibrates through my fingers and up my arms.

Playing the piano in the evenings for no one other than myself is something I’m going to miss. It’s a way I relieve stress besides working out or drinking that allows me to lose my mind in the notes and melodies of the music.

I remember fighting my parents on the idea of taking piano lessons as a young boy, but my mother assured me that a taste for creating music would be an outlet I would cherish as I got older.

I’m sure Waverly will probably think that this piano serves no purpose other than for décor—and I’m not sure if I want to share this part of me with her, given the timeline of our relationship—so I take advantage of my last night of solitude and press and push the ivory sticks until my body feels at ease, my jaw unclenches, and my mind feels vacant once again.

Satisfied with my solo performance, I take my empty whiskey glass to the sink and then head upstairs, past the gym and the office I spend entirely too much time in before I arrive in my room. I figure regardless that we’re living together, Waverly will want her own space, so I had my housekeeper prepare the guest room and bathroom for her arrival. She’ll have her privacy at the other end of the hallway, which will help in our arrangement because I’ll be damned if I share a bed with her to keep up appearances.

First, no one can see what’s going on between us behind closed doors so that detail didn’t need to be discussed. And secondly, she has probably already fantasized about chopping off my balls a dozen times in our lives, so there’s no need to give her easy access.

After showering and finishing my whiskey, I brush my teeth and then take a few moments to walk around naked—standing in front of the glass windows overlooking the balcony of my room, taking in the view of my yard from the second story, which never gets old. I clip my toenails in the dark