My contract love story

The sleek black car deposited Ashleigh at the imposing wrought iron gates of Adrian’s estate. Her heart hammered a nervous tattoo against her ribs. Spending the weekend at her husband’s mansion, a man who seemed to control her every move it was enough to make anyone uneasy.

As the car pulled away, she took a deep breath, the crisp evening air filling her lungs. She looked at the doorway to see Tara standing with a stoic expression. Unlike the other day, she dressed up in a flowery gown, her hair falling past her shoulders and framing her heart-shaped face. Although she looked like a typical sweetheart, her demeanour was cold.

“Mrs. Ashleigh,” she greeted with a curt nod.

“Why are you here? It’s clear you don’t want to be here”

“Mr. Cagliari has asked that I ensure you arrive” she said in a clipped tone, turning to enter the house.

Ashleigh followed behind with embarrassment etched on her face.

Tara led her to the kitchen where the meal prepared was set on the table. Today the head chef is absent, only a chef assistant is in the kitchen working on dessert when Ashleigh entered.

“Chef Frank is not around today?”

“Chef Frank will not be available till Monday, he works weekly shifts. The weekend head chef will be starting this night; you can meet him then or tomorrow morning” her voice trailed as she left the kitchen.

Ashleigh had an uneventful dinner with the chef assistant, after that she strolled to her room and decided to have a long soak in the bathtub.

Clothed in a cosy bathrobe, she emerged from the bathroom an hour later. As she went through the closet for a nightie, she pondered on what to do for this night. Another train of thought that ran through her mind was how Adrian had arranged an array of night wears; from pyjamas, shorts and tank tops to night gown and robes and even lingerie, all in silk, cotton and lace. Her cheeks flamed especially at the lingerie selection, they were… particularly eye-catching.

Why all these lingerie when there wont be an opportunity for intimacy in these months? She would have to ask him when they talk eventually. Her hands eventually stopped on a silk maroon night piece that stopped above her knees, covering it up with a matching gown. She let down her hair from the towel she wrapped around her head and was about to start drying it when she heard a knock on her door.

She stood up and opened the door to find Tara standing there, a tablet clutched in her hand. Tara glared at her with a frown, scrutinizing her from head to toe.

“What do you want?” Ashleigh asked impatiently, mirroring her displeasure.

Tara came to her for something, hasn’t said what it was and is looking at her like she had filth on her. The tablet buzzed insistently, and with a look of obvious disdain, Tara thrust it at Ashleigh.

“You have a call from Mr. Cagliari,” she snapped before storming off, leaving Ashleigh surprised.

Leaning the tablet against the mirror, Ashleigh answered the call. The screen showed a beige-colored background with a bookshelf propped against it. A laptop momentarily blocked the camera, then Adrian appeared, seated in an office chair and talking to someone off-screen. Mr. Turner approached him, whispering something in his ear. Adrian’s brow furrowed in realization as he glanced towards the camera.

Ashleigh noticed immediately that he wasn’t dressed in his usual attire. He wore a casual shirt, his hair falling messily across his face. He always struck her as impossibly handsome, a stark contrast to his uptight personality. In the background, she heard Mr. Turner’s voice fade as he escorted the person out and closed the door. Now it was just the two of them, Adrian’s full attention focused on her.

“Good evening, Ashleigh,” he greeted, his arms crossed on the table as he leaned forward to study her.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes widened in surprise, but the expression vanished as quickly as it came. Ashleigh decided to ignore it, focusing on her frustration with his controlling behavior.

“Good evening, Mr. Cagliari,” she replied casually, picking up the hair dryer and plugging it into the outlet. Adrian watched her silently, waiting for her to settle in.

“I thought I told you to call me Adrian,” he said.

“You did,” she countered, setting the dryer on low heat and starting to dry her hair. “But I seem to forget sometimes because I’m being treated like a staff member here. Which, by the way, I am not.”

She decided that if she was going to voice her opinion, she would do it on her own terms. If sass was what calmed her nerves, then sass it would be.

Ashleigh’s frustration simmered.

“Even in your company,” she argued, her voice tight, “there’s room to bend the rules if it doesn’t work. But here, with me, an employee of Mr. Cagliari, apparently autonomy goes out the window? Only Mr. Cagliari’s word matters?” Her gaze held his, her lips pressed into a firm line.

Adrian remained silent for a long moment, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache.

“Is this about the transportation issue?” he finally asked.

Ashleigh ignored his question, her defiance a shield against the growing tension. She continued drying her hair, the rhythmic hum of the dryer a counterpoint to the unspoken conflict.

“Are you going to answer my question, Ashleigh? Did I stutter?” His irritation flared.

“Oh, so now I can’t even be silent?” she retorted, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Should I just open my mouth wide and wait for you to speak?” She finished drying her hair, brushing it out with practiced ease.

Adrian leaned forward, his gaze intense.

“You can’t throw those words around while looking like that,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble.

“Unless you’re prepared for the consequences.”

Ashleigh felt a lump form in her throat. The playful defiance evaporated, replaced by a nervous blush. The air crackled with unspoken desire and a tension that went beyond simple annoyance.

“That’s not the point,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

“Then what is?”

“I want to be able to go to work on my own,” she pleaded,

“And visit my aunt. It’s barely been six hours and I’m already going stir-crazy.” She leaned against the table, a pout forming on her lips.

A sigh escaped Adrian’s lips. “Alright, let’s compromise. You can go to work by yourself once a week, and visit your aunt for a weekend once a month. How does that sound?”

Ashleigh grumbled, her hair bouncing with the movement.

“It’s this or nothing,” he interjected, his voice firm but not unkind.

With a resigned sigh, Ashleigh conceded. At least he’d listened, a small victory amidst the restrictions.

“And for your boredom,” Adrian continued, “there’s a movie theatre in the house. Did Tara forget to mention it?”

” Tara has her head was probably so far up her ass” Ashleigh huffed.

“Language,” Adrian cautioned.

“I won’t apologize,” she bristled.

“You were more than happy to reprimand the staff the other night. All you succeeded in doing was making her even more insufferable.”

“And you had nothing to do with that?” he countered, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

“I was too busy being mad at you to bother annoying her,” she retorted.

“Besides, all that anger, it’s not even about me, is it? It’s about you.” She blamed.

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, me?”

A wry smile played on Ashleigh’s lips.

“Come on, Adrian. Surely you know about Tara’s… undying love for you, shall we say?” she added, making air quotes with her fingers.

“Oh, yes I do” he said nonchalantly.

Ashleigh’s smile faltered. “And you still brought me here? You still married me?”

“Yes? Why shouldn’t I have?” Adrian looked genuinely confused, his gaze shifting from Ashleigh to the document on his desk.

“Why?” she pressed, her voice laced with frustration.

“She seems like the perfect match for you. Same background as me, practically runs the house already. Here I am, barely knowing what the chef cooked for dinner the other night.” He chuckled softly at her admission, momentarily closing the document.

“You haven’t exactly given me a reason to regret marrying you,” he countered.

“What Tara knows and can do comes from years spent here, first with her father and then as staff. It doesn’t make her a better fit for me, nor does it mean you can’t learn about the house just like she has. Sure, she’d have been a more convenient choice, already living here. But for reasons of my own, I chose you.”

His words sent a jolt through Ashleigh. A part of her wanted to be angry, but another part, a tiny, hopeful part, clung to the belief that there was more to his decision than mere convenience.

“As for Tara’s crush,” Adrian continued, his voice turning serious, “most women probably do find me attractive. I am, after all, the most eligible bachelor in the city, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ashleigh sputtered, momentarily speechless. His words were undeniably accurate, but to hear him say them so casually was infuriating.

“What nonsense are you talking about?” she finally managed, her cheeks burning.

He arched an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “Oh, so you don’t have a crush on me, Mrs. Cagliari? Then perhaps I’ve failed in my duties as a husband to properly entice my wife.”

A hint of seriousness returned to his voice. “Listen, Ashleigh. As my wife, you need to learn how to assert yourself. Tara won’t be the only person you encounter who might harbor certain feelings towards me. How will you handle them? Are you going to let other women walk all over you?”

“Remember this,” he declared, his voice firm,

“Only you hold the title of Mrs. Cagliari, and that title comes with a certain level of respect. Make sure everyone knows that, without hesitation.” Adrian said, holding her gaze for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.

Finally, he spoke. “I’ll speak to Tara and arrange a movie screening for you tomorrow evening. Consider it a chance to familiarize yourself with the house. By tomorrow, I expect you to be ready to act the part.” He flipped open the document once more, his attention seemingly returning to his work.

Ashleigh sat there for a moment, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. Adrian’s words, both flippant and serious, echoed in her mind. There was a lot to unpack, a lot to learn about him, about Tara, and perhaps even about herself.

“If you’re going to call and say things like that,” Ashleigh said, her voice strained, “it’s better if you don’t. I’d rather wait for you to come back in person.”

Adrian chuckled. “Aww, is my wife shy? I must admit, I do enjoy our conversations… and the nightie, by the way.”

Ashleigh’s cheeks flushed. “Speaking of which, do you have no shame choosing such revealing lingerie and nightgowns?”

“Not at all,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I hired a stylist, and she picked out everything you see. Based on what I hear and now see, she has excellent taste.” He eyed the silk robe hanging loosely on her shoulders, highlighting her collarbones.

Ashleigh could feel her face burning up through the screen. Knowing another word from him might push her over the edge, she quickly changed the subject. “So, what did you say about the in-house theatre?”

“I’ll let Tara know about it,” Adrian said. “The rest is up to you.”

“If that’s all,” she said briskly, reaching for the end button, “goodnight. Eat a proper meal and get some rest.”

“Hold on,” he interrupted. “There’s one more thing you should know.”