Crossing the Threshold

LAUREN

“Ready to cross the threshold, sweetheart?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but I couldn’t help but smile.

“Why not?” I shot back, grinning. “What kind of newlywed would I be if I didn’t let my husband carry me in?”

I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the challenge. If he was going to offer to do something for me, even sarcastically, I was going to make sure he followed through. I was ready to have some fun with this marriage.

“You sure you’re okay?” His voice was as hard as steel.

“Because I agreed to your offer?”

“I was joking.” His lips barely moved as he spoke.

I crossed my arms and stood my ground.

“Well, I’m not going in unless you carry me. It’s a new wife’s right,” I said, stubbornly. “Or I could just live in your bushes.”

“Really?” His eyes were icy, his jaw clenching. “I wouldn’t put it past you. Considering who I’m dealing with.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to— Hey! What are you doing?” I squealed as he swept me off my feet and carried me inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

He set me down, a little too roughly, and I glared at him.

“I was kidding! You didn’t have to do that, jerk.”

“You do know your voice is grating, right?”

I rolled my eyes and lifted my wedding dress, taking in the house. It was even more impressive on the inside.

His mansion was intimidating.

The floors were marble, with two spiral staircases leading to the second floor.

The walls were a pristine white, almost glowing. Expensive paintings adorned the walls, similar to the ones in his office.

There were doorways on either side of the room, probably leading to the kitchen and living room. Under the staircase, there were three white chairs and a table.

So, this was my home for the next year.

But what struck me was the lack of people.

There were two security guards outside, but no one inside.

I turned to him, puzzled.

“Why is it so empty?”

He gave me a strange look, then moved around my luggage to punch in the security code.

“This isn’t a museum or a zoo,” he said.

“If you’re wondering why there aren’t any servants, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I value my privacy.”

I met his gaze, realizing he was trying to rile me up, to make me think I was in for a surprise.

“Listen, I don’t care about that, so get that idea out of your head. I’m just surprised a rich guy like you doesn’t have any. It seems impossible.”

His jaw clenched, and he spoke in a low, dark voice.

“I didn’t say I don’t have any. I have a housekeeper who comes once a week and a gardener.”

I looked at him, curious.

“No cook?” I held my breath, waiting for him to snap at my questions.

“I only trust my mom and Chef Luigi to cook for me, but he retired last year. So, I do the cooking.”

I almost laughed. He claimed he wasn’t afraid of anything, but this made it seem like he was scared of being poisoned.

As if he could read my thoughts, he narrowed his eyes at me. But then, I remembered something.

“What about that restaurant where I used to get your food? You said you only ate food cooked by two people.”

His eyes twitched.

“That’s Luigi’s restaurant, Lauren. If you’re done being nosy, can we move on?” he asked, but it was more of a command.

I knew if I pushed further, I’d regret it.

“Does this mean I get to show off my cooking skills?” I teased, raising my eyebrows suggestively.

What kind of temporary wife would I be if I let him cook for himself?

He gave me a place to stay for a year, and in return, I’d cook his meals.

“Unless you’re scared I’ll poison you and run off with your and your grandfather’s money.”

His gaze didn’t waver, and for a moment, I thought I saw a hint of amusement.

“I don’t need you to impress me. I’m not interested in you. That’s the last thing I want.”

He was a tough man to like.

“Now, grab your luggage. I’ll show you to your room and you can explore.”

“You’re not going to help?” I asked, shaking my head.

“You really need to work on your manners. You’re not much of a gentleman. Good thing I’m here to help you out.”

“Excuse me?” he said.

But I ignored him and headed for the staircase, waiting for him to catch up.

Two hours later, I was settled into my room for the next year.

It was beautiful.

The best part was the queen-sized bed and the soft pillows.

After unpacking, I called my dad and talked for a few minutes before he hung up, telling me to spend time with my husband instead of wasting it on him.

I dialed Beth next, certain she was clutching her phone, eagerly awaiting my call. She would have reached out first, but I bet she was worried about the timing.

Honestly, she sometimes forgot that Mason and I weren’t in love, let alone attracted to each other.

“Lauren!” she shrieked as soon as she answered. “Oh my gosh, I was just about to call my bestie! Hi! How are you settling into your new place? The apartment feels so empty without you.

“When can I come visit? Maybe tomorrow would be good, but I don’t want Mason to think I’m rushing things. Should I give you some space first?”

I had to cut her off mid-ramble.

“Beth, can you take a breath and let me say something?”

She laughed lightly. “I miss you, Beth. It’s so lonely here without you.”

“Girl, you have a husband who can keep you company. Stop being a scaredy-cat and go find him.”

“Okay, it was nice talking to you. Good—”

“Wait, wait, wait!” she blurted out, her tone far from apologetic. “You know how my mouth runs away with me sometimes. That’s why they call me Blabbermouth Beth. Are you doing okay?”

I sighed and hugged a pillow to my chest.

“I’m okay. Just missing you a lot. But you know, this would be different if it was a love marriage. And besides, Mason and I aren’t even friends. He barely tolerates me.”

“You’re being silly, Laurie,” she snorted.

“If you’re not friends, then go talk to him. You do know you can’t be friends with someone if you don’t talk to them, right?”

“But it’s so hard to talk to him,” I confessed, remembering how every imaginary conversation with him always seemed to end badly.

“He can’t be nice for five minutes, Beth. If he’s not threatening you, he’s accusing you of something ridiculous.”

She laughed. “Remember Johnny Wills from sixth grade?” she asked out of the blue. I was silent for a moment, trying to recall who she was talking about.

Her soft sigh reached my ears before she added, “You know, the one who called me four-eyes when I wore glasses? Johnny couldn’t stand me and always picked on me, remember?

“But what happened next? We ended up being friends. And it didn’t happen by me avoiding him. I forced my friendship on him.”

“I don’t know, Beth…” I trailed off weakly.

“You and Johnny were kids then, but this is different. I don’t think I could force my friendship on Mason, but I could try and talk to him. Make an effort and who knows, maybe he’ll warm up to me?”

“That’s my girl!”

I smiled. “By the way, are there any job openings? I think if I stay in this house, I’ll go stir-crazy from boredom.”

“I’ll look around for you, but have you talked to Mason about it?”

“The contract says he’ll let me work as long as it’s not for one of his companies. I’m fine with that.” I could almost see her opening her mouth to say something, and I cut her off.

“No, I won’t ask him to find a job for me. I can do it myself.”

“Yeah, but you did ask me to look for you—”

I chuckled. “Shut up.”

Beth and I spent three hours chatting on the phone.

Time flies when you’re talking to someone you love. Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning and saw the time, I wanted to scream.

It was six-thirty, and all I wanted to do was go back to sleep for another couple of hours, but I wasn’t tired anymore.

I slid out of bed, showered, and got dressed.

I put on my yellow top and high-waisted denim shorts, then pulled my hair into a ponytail.

Stepping out of my room, I looked around the quiet hallway and wondered if Mason was awake yet.

It was Saturday, and there was no work today.

I knew his room was somewhere on the third floor, but I wasn’t curious enough to go see it. Instead, I headed downstairs to the fancy kitchen to make breakfast.

I had no idea what he liked, and I doubted he’d tell me his preferences, so I decided to make an omelet, bacon, and a sandwich.

An hour later, I had everything set out on the table, along with some fruit I’d cut up and Mason’s favorite tea.

I wandered around the house while I waited for him to wake up and join me for breakfast.

There were three bedrooms and two living rooms downstairs, a foyer with a pool, and a library across from it. The last two doors downstairs led to a large study and a home theater.

By the time I finished exploring inside and out, it was past eight.

Tired of waiting, I went upstairs to check on him. I wanted to see what was keeping him, considering Mason didn’t seem like the type to sleep in.

My hands shook slightly on the railing as I made my way up to the third floor.

There was a door on each side, so I chose the one on the right.

When I turned the knob and peeked inside, I realized I’d chosen the wrong room.

This was his lounge, so his bedroom had to be on the left.

My heart pounded and my legs felt heavy with each step I took, but I wasn’t about to back down, not when I’d just started.

I stopped at the white and gold door to take a deep breath before silently saying a prayer and turning the knob.

The room was dim, but not too dark.

It smelled like Mason’s cologne, and I didn’t waste any time looking around before I spotted a shadow in the middle of the biggest bed I’d ever seen.

I tiptoed closer to the bed, trying not to make a sound. I even held my breath, afraid of alerting him to my presence.

I would have let out a squeal if I hadn’t quickly clamped my mouth shut. I was staring at a shirtless man, sleeping peacefully on the bed.

My eyes roamed over him, from his feet and thick thighs to his muscular torso and chest. The covers hid the rest of him.

His arm was bent, cradling his head on the pillow. With every breath, his biceps and muscles bulged. Even in sleep, he looked powerful and unbeatable.

Fear was humming in every nerve of my body.

I shouldn’t be here.

Coming into his room was a bad idea, but I couldn’t move. I was captivated by his perfect, unblemished skin, glowing in the dark.

And the fact that Mason was lying here quietly, not glaring at me with his cold, calculating eyes or throwing insults at me, felt weird.

I decided to take a closer look. I’d never get this chance again. Plus, I was looking for a tattoo to tease him about later.

I moved closer, watching him sleep peacefully. He wasn’t intimidating or scary now.

His sinful gray eyes were closed, his expression serene, his mouth not scowling. His lashes brushed against his cheeks.

Mason hadn’t moved, his breathing hadn’t changed.

If I were a murderer, it would have been easy to kill him.

I thought he’d be paranoid, more alert, but he wasn’t.

And he had—

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.

In a flash, he pulled me toward him and flipped me over onto my front.

His weight was crushing me, his arm against my neck, pinning me under him.

My eyes were shut tight in fear, my heart pounding.

“Planning on killing me a day after our wedding, I see,” he whispered dangerously. “Maybe I shouldn’t have taken your words lightly. You really are after my wealth.”

I opened my eyes and glared at him.

“Get off me before you end up getting murdered and I have to pretend to cry at your funeral.”

His eyes roamed over my face before settling on my eyes again.

“Should you be talking to me like that after breaking into my room?” His body was heavy, pressing me into the bed.

I tried to sit up, but he had me pinned. He moved his arm from my neck and pinned my arms over my head instead.

“And what should I do with you?” he asked quietly. “Hand you over to the police?”

I snorted, looking up at him. “And say what? Your wife broke into your room? I’m sure they’d have a good laugh over that.”

I tried to ignore the way he was pressing his hips tightly to mine, the sensation making my body arch and burn...the way his eyes were burning into mine, gleaming in the brightest shade of gray.

Mason frowned at me, anger clear on his face. He lifted himself off me and sat down away from me.

Embarrassed at being caught, I slid off the bed and turned to him. But he wasn’t looking at me.

He’d grabbed his phone from the nightstand and was looking through it.

“I made breakfast,” I said nervously, fiddling with my hands and biting the inside of my cheek.

“Great,” he replied, not looking up at me. “Unfortunately, I can’t have it. But enjoy your breakfast.”

He offered no explanation as he slipped off the bed and walked to a door on the left side of the room.

He poked his head out and added, “Get out and don’t come into my room again. I hope you remember the rules in our contract seeing as you were the one who wanted them.

“So, Lauren, do uphold them.”

It’s only been hours since our wedding, and I already wanted it to be next year.

After he’d refused the breakfast I made for him, I stormed out of his room in anger and went back to my own room, not in the mood to eat anything. I’d lost my appetite after talking to him.

Ugh! Mason Campbell could be such a jerk when he wanted to be!

I thought I could handle his rudeness, but it was harder to like him with that attitude.

If I was going to try and be friends with him, I had to stop getting mad at every little thing he did. I had to remember that was just how he was, and changing his attitude toward me could take a while.

Baby steps, I reminded myself.