Lexy.
His absent-minded, occasionally naïve wife was the patent owner.
And thus, the reason he now had a choice to return to professional racing.
How had he not known about this?
Lexy
Ilove being married.
Love, love, love it to death.
I know most people will think I’m faking it, considering how Leon and I have also been leading separate lives for eight years. But that’s also what they don’t get.
Leon and I, we had an agreement from the start. We would respect each other’s boundaries. Honor each other even if we don’t share a bed. For both of us, it would always be honesty over deception, cooperation over divisiveness, the common good over self-interest.
No. Matter. What.
Most days, I’m dressed like a college dropout: battered but still-functional pair of Sennheiser headphones plopped over my head, clothes so baggy that even Cupid will have a hard time targeting my heart with his arrow, and my trusty, rugged-looking sneakers (all black, all-terrain worthy, and best of all, no shoelaces needed).
Most days...are the days when I’m just me, Lexy.
But on the days where I’m expected to show up as his wife?
I take to my role like a soldier with his orders. I’ve taken lessons on everything from foreign language to professional makeup, large-scale catering to French cuisine. Playing the role of a billionaire’s socialite wife will never be my favorite thing to do, but you’ll never guess it when you see me. Because I made a promise, and I always keep my promises.
No. Matter. What.
And that’s why I’m here in Manhattan, dressed like how anyone would expect a billionaire’s wife to be dressed, complete with four-inch stilettos that I insisted on wearing, never mind if Leon himself told me not to.
Leon says it’s overkill. I say it’s all about not doing things in half-measures, and that includes coming up with a smile as I greet the woman I’ve flown halfway across the world to meet. “Hello.” I manage to keep my tone light and friendly (billionaire’s wives don’t do nervous or shy!) even when my introvert heart is already squirming against my chest at the possibility of having to spend hours talking with another stranger. I’m not xenophobic or anything, but my social energy is just really...almost...nonexistent?
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Gazis.” The genuine warmth in her smile catches me off guard, and it almost has me starting to smile back...until I catch myself in time.
Remember Leon’s warning!
