HIS STRIPPER, HIS WIFE novel Chapter 129

Chapter one hundred and twenty nine

Bianca

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He brought out a paper and a pen from the envelope and tossed it toward Adrian first, not even looking at me yet, his attention fully on his son.

“If I’m going to support this, you both have to hear my own part first,” he said, his voice calm but firm. I could already tell that this wasn’t something either of us could argue with.

Adrian and I looked at each other. His face gave nothing away, but I felt my stomach tighten à little, the way it does right before you know something is about to change. We both turned back to Mr. Delacroix.

“First, I’m not in support of hiding relationships,” he continued, leaning back. “He has to show a sense of responsibility to the media if you are going to let me join you to do this.” He paused.

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“No sneaking around, no dodging cameras, no pretending you two don’t exist together in public. If people see you, you smile. If people ask, you answer like a couple who actually likes each other. This is the life we live”

Adrian picked up the pen and signed without hesitation and I turned to him, surprised, my mouth almost falling open. Did he already know about all the rules his father had in mind before he even said them out loud? Why hadn’t he waited until the man finished talking? Was there some part of this conversation the two of them had already had without me?

I was still caught up in that thought when he pushed the paper and pen over to my side of the desk. I rolled my eyes at him in a way I made sure his father wouldn’t catch, keeping my face angled just enough that only Adrian could see it, but I made sure he saw it clearly and he smiled at that.

“Like I said,” Mr. Delacroix continued, folding his hands together on top of the desk, his rings catching the light from the lamp beside him, “I want public appearances, events, dinners, anything that puts the two of you in the same room as people who matter. And most importantly,” he paused here to look at me.

“I don’t want to hear anything about a breakup or a divorce. Not if it gets to that stage within the next two years. If this thing falls apart before then, it falls apart quietly, and it stays that way until the two years are done.”

My eyes widened, two years? my two years of pretending, of smiling for these cameras, of standing beside a man I barely understood and calling it love in front of strangers. Oh my God, what had I gotten myself into. How was I supposed to sign something like this knowing fully well that this entire arrangement was built on nothing but paper and a business deal.

I got lost in my own head for a second, running through every possible way this thing could crumble, every excuse I might need one day, every lie I would have to keep straight for two years, until Adrian tapped my leg gently under the table and it pulled my mind right back into the room.

“So I’m waiting for your signature,” Mr. Delacroix said, his eyes on me patiently. “Now or later. Doesn’t matter to me, just get it signed and return it to me.

“Okay, sir,” I said in a very low voice.

Adrian kept looking at me the whole time, his eyes moving slowly over the paper in front of me like he was trying to read my mind straight through the ink.

It would have been a much better thing to go home first, to sit across from Adrian and actually talk this through before putting my name on anything permanent. But that would send à different kind of message to his father, especially since Adrian had already signed his part without even blinking, without asking a single question.

So I picked up the pen and signed my name at the bottom of the page. I slid it back across the desk toward Adrian, who handed it over to his father without a word. Mr. Delacroix collected it, folded it neatly along the same crease it had come in, and tucked it into the inside pocket of his suit.

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HIS STRIPPER. HIS WIFE

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“I’ll have your copy delivered to the house,” he said, standing and buttoning his blazer again. He walked us to the door, then turned back just before stepping out of it. “Now that we’re at it, there’s a dinner tomorrow evening with some of the high value businessmen in the city. It’s a plus one setting, so I want to see you both there.”

And with that, he walked out, his footsteps fading down the hallway until I couldn’t hear it anymore.

“Please, let’s be on our way,” I said, already standing, my tone back to the pissed off mood it was before we got here. “I have work tomorrow, and I would like to actually rest well.”

“Alright,” Adrian said, and we walked out of the building together, back toward the spot where the car had been parked earlier.

A man I didn’t recognize approached us just outside, handing Adrian a set of keys without a word. “I told the driver he could leave,” Adrian explained, then walked around to my side and opened the front passenger door for me. I got in without saying anything, arranging my dress around my legs and staring straight ahead through the windshield.

He rounded the car, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. I rested my head against the cool glass of the window and watched as he drove through the street. My mind was still stuck on that folded paper, two years, no breakups, no divorce, I wish I could tell him that this thing between me and Adrian was a contract, not love.

“Have you had dinner?” Adrian asked after a while, breaking the silence between us since we left the building.

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