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One thing surprised me, though. How hard it was to swallow the pill of going from hunger to gluttony practically overnight.

I’d wanted this kind of success for so long. I’d been working my ass off for it for years. Achieving it—especially the reason I was achieving it—was not nearly as satisfying as I’d always pictured. Sure, there was some gratification to be had from my newfound success, but more than anything I found contentment in the fact that it was keeping me very, very busy.

Life was all about perspective, and I was trying my damnedest to appreciate my new position in spite of the things I’d done to reach it. To appreciate the fruits of my labor with all of the enthusiasm my cynical young heart could muster up. Thanks to my new status, modeling now came with a sense of security. All of my extravagant living expenses were taken care of by my absent husband, so every cent I earned went into my bank account, which was already very well padded due to the details of our prenup.

I told myself that was a good thing. Just what I’d been going for. The relief of that took a lot the stress out of the job, that and the fact that I was instantly treated with more deference now that I was Mrs. Castelo.

I’d always loved fashion, enjoyed dressing up, and for the first time I enjoyed the photo shoots, had fun with landing ad campaigns, and walked new runways like I didn’t have a care in the world. See? Untouchable.

Well, I did have a few cares. One of which was that it felt strange to be a married woman and not feel married at all. Even when I attended events that I was invited to as Mrs. Calder Castelo, I went sans husband.

I obediently went to Mass every Sunday with the Castelo family minus one very significant presence. I sat every week in the pews amongst his charming brothers, but his charmless self never bothered to come.

I’d also agreed to attend many designated galas in our contract, and I even liked that part of our arrangement, but I’d always assumed I’d be attending on his arm.

I was used to being alone. I’d been completely independent since I was sixteen, and had taken care of myself from a young age, but it still felt strange to be doing everything as a newly made Mrs. by myself.

Well, that wasn’t precisely accurate. I never actually went anywhere alone. Two men escorted me. Their names were Chester and Vincent.

Vincent was my driver. He was a short, small-framed bald man with a trim gray beard. I never asked but I guessed that he was in his fifties. He was quiet but polite to a fault. He had a rare but kind smile.

Chester was my bodyguard. He was built like a bear, massive from his head to his size fourteen feet. I was far from short, and I almost always wore heels, and still he towered over me. He had to be at least a few inches taller even than my tall husband, though I’d never seen them standing side by side, due to the fact that I never saw my husband at all.

He had a generous mane of fiery orange hair threaded through with streaks of gray. He usually wore it in a man bun though he refused to call it that. It matched his perfect beard and handlebar mustache. He wore thick framed glasses that complemented his sweet brown eyes. If he was a little younger, I’d have pegged him as a hipster.

I knew that Chester was forty-six because he mentioned it often, usually when he was lamenting about his various aches and pains.

It was Chester that went with me everywhere. He was good company, so I never minded. He was a hell of an upgrade from Asha the Dour.

Though Asha hadn’t gone far. She didn’t escort me around as diligently as Chester, but I still had to wake up to her presence in my life every single day.

It was almost a month in and my routine was down pat.

I woke up at six a.m. sharp. My alarm went off and I was up and in the shower within one minute.

God forbid I’d hit the snooze button and have Asha in my face calling me a sloth.

From the shower, I slipped into a robe and padded to my extravagant, sunken living room. I contemplated my view of the bustling, sleepless city while I awaited my team meeting.

Yes, I had a team. My husband was absent, of course, but I never lacked for company.

Chester brought me coffee, and I accepted it with a grateful, “Thank you.”

For convenience as well as protection, Chester and Vincent were housed in the apartment directly next door to mine.

When we were home, however, they could more often be found hanging out in my living room.

“You’re welcome, Duchess. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Chester,” I returned with a smile. His nickname for me had appeared early on in our acquaintance, and it never failed to amuse me. I hadn’t married into any kind of title aside from rich man’s wife, but I was apparently close enough to nobility for Chester. It didn’t hurt that he always infused warm affection into the word, making it an endearment.

I liked Chester. A lot. He made it almost bearable to deal with Asha.

Think of the devil. At just that moment Asha’s dour form swept into the room. I turned from the view to meet her severe gaze.

“A robe is hardly decent attire to be wearing in front of men who aren’t your husband,” she opined harshly, her mean eyes raking over me.

“It’s the crack of dawn, and I’m standing in my own living room,” I returned coldly. “I’ll wear whatever the hell I like. Just get started with today’s schedule, please.”