Chapter Six

Derek

I roll over in bed, blindly reaching out to the space beside me only to be met with emptiness. I open my eyes to discover that my wife isn't beside me.

My wife.

It feels so natural to think of her that way now. In fact, a lot of things have felt natural in the past month, like waking up with her next to me or burying my face in her neck every night, inhaling her sweet, heady scent. I miss her all the time when I"m away for work and get all giddy whenever it"s time to head home. I always look forward to sharing my day with her and watching her listen. I love the way her eyes light up when she talks to me about the things that interest her, like her twin sister and her passion for dance. I love making love to her, her eager responses, and her willingness to try new things with me. I love her spunk and ability to find joy in the littlest things. With her, I feel happy, relaxed, and totally at home. I"ve never felt this way, but I need nobody to tell me that I have fallen in love with Grace Winston – perhaps from the moment I laid eyes on her.

I glance at the digital clock by the bed and sigh when I see that the time is well past eight. I"m almost late for a meeting, but there are perks to being the boss. I get out of bed, making a mental note to send a quick text to my secretary to reschedule my meetings.

Grace is most likely making breakfast or dancing out on the patio like she does every morning. I hope it"s the latter. I love watching her dance. The first time I saw her dancing on the balcony, it was the morning after our wedding night. Bathed in the glow of the early morning sun with her body moving gracefully to whatever was playing in her headset, she made a vision. Mesmerized, I stood there, captivated by the fluidity of her motions, and the way her body seemed to flow with the rhythm of nature.

Since then, it"s become a ritual for me to steal glances at her dancing whenever I can. It"s like watching poetry come to life, a silent orchestra of beauty and grace. When she turned around and noticed me, she laughed and invited me to join her. We danced and laughed; it was like we"d done so a thousand times.

After a quick shower, I dress up and head downstairs to look for Grace. I find her in the kitchen, humming a soft tune and gently swaying her hips. She has on one of my shirts, one that stops at her mid-thighs. She"s let her hair down, the wild curls framing her face like molten fire.

I walk over to wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her against my body. "Have I told you how much I love it when you wear my shirt?"

She chuckles, leaning into me and craning her neck to give me more access when I start to nibble on her ear.

"Yes, you have." she turns around to face me, her eyes dancing with humor. "Don"t you leave your shirts around just so I can wear them?"

"Guilty as charged," I reply, roughly squeezing her ass. "You look better in them anyway."

I wink at her and she laughs again, shaking her head at me. I like it when she laughs; the hearty, high-spirited sound always fills my heart with an indescribable fuzziness. I used to wonder what her laughter sounded like and once I heard it, I never got enough of it.

"Would you like some breakfast?" she asks. "I made pancakes."

"I"d rather have you," I reply, lifting her mouth to mine. I bite her lower lip, loving her little throaty moan. "I"d have you any time of the day."

"Don"t be silly," she says, pushing half-heartedly at my chest. "You have that meeting with Josh at ten. You"re running late."

"I moved the meeting. Being the boss has its perks, don"t you think?"

She shakes her head with a fond smile. "You"re cocky, Mr. Sawyer."

"Some say it"s a part of my charm," I quip, returning her smile. "That reminds me, are you free this weekend?"

"Yes, why?"

"So, I contacted a real estate agent concerning your dance studio, and he may have found some really good places. I would like us to go check them out on the weekend. If we find one that you like, I"ll pay up and…"

"Hold up," she interrupts, raising a hand to stop me. "I"m sorry… What are you going on about?"

"I"m buying you a building for your dance studio," I reply with a small shrug.

"W-what?" she sputters, blinking at me like I"ve suddenly grown horns. "Are you for real?"

"Yes." I can't help but feel a little proud. I knew she'd be surprised, but she seems really bowled over.

"I"m sorry, I-I can"t accept it," she says, shaking her head as she steps away from me.

It"s my turn to be confused. "Why not?"

"What do you mean, ‘why not?' It"s just ridiculous that you want to buy me a whole building. Do you want to hire teachers, too?"

"It"s not ridiculous, honey. You"re my wife."

"Wife," she repeats with a humorless snort. "It seems you"re forgetting that this whole marriage is a contract. You're already paying me. I don't need a building as a tip."

My stomach drops at her words, and I feel my chest closing up with a rush of emotions: anger, disappointment, and an unfamiliar terror, one that I don"t want to acknowledge. Even though we never discussed our feelings in the past month, I"d hoped that she felt the connection between us, even if it was only half of what I felt. I know now it"s all a chore to her.

"Thanks for the reminder, Miss Winston," I say coldly, stepping away from her. "I"ll be sure to keep it in mind."

"Derek…"

"Mom is hosting a family dinner at her place tonight at eight," I continue, keeping my voice even despite the churning storm in the pit of my stomach. "I"ll ask a driver to pick you up by seven. I expect you"ll do a good job convincing the world that we"re married."

And with that, I turn around and walk away, ignoring the crumbled expression on her face.

She was very clear about her boundaries, after all.