Part 2

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A week had passed since your wedding day and you were finally getting the hang of maneuvering around Billy in the penthouse you shared with him. Not that it was cramped, it was a fucking mansion really. A wedding gift from Alistair, and located in the same neighbourhood as him. Of course you saw right through the ruse. It was a convenient way to keep watch over you; you wouldn't be surprised if the man had cameras in the suite too. You did spend a day looking for them but the search turned up empty. Oh well. If the old man got his jollies from that then so be it.

After resigning last week, you had spent the last few days moving in and getting settled. It was the first time in years where you actually had time to relax and you took full advantage of it, lounging by the pool in the private rooftop terrace everyday. It was heaven, but you had to remind yourself not to get used to it. This was temporary, nothing more. Even with the millions you would be paid after the divorce, there was no way you'd spend it on something so frivolous like a luxury apartment. That wasn't your style.

You entered the suite and headed to the kitchen to grab something to drink. It was almost one in the morning and you had just returned from dinner with some of your college friends. They had arranged the get together last minute after finding out about your wedding. The first half of the night was just them drilling you about why you hadn't told them you were dating Willliam Russo. One of them found out about the wedding through some bougie New York society blog and they were hurt you hadn't invited them. Of course you couldn't tell them about the arrangement, that was part of the NDA you signed with Alistair, so you made up some nonsense about the two of you falling madly in love after you treated Alistair and deciding to elope in a mad whim. It was bullshit, but your friends ate it up. You did feel a slight twinge of guilt for lying to them, but, whatever. They didn't need to know everything about you.

You poured a glass of wine for yourself and took a sip. An appreciative sigh escaped you. God, these rich snobs knew good wine. You had almost emptied the glass when you heard loud yelling. Curious, you sauntered outside the kitchen to find the source - a tall, leggy blonde storming down the spiral staircase, screaming.

The entire upper floor was Billy's territory, and he'd warned you to stay the fuck away from the very first day you'd moved in. Apparently the same instructions didn't apply to the other woman.

"Fuck you, Billy! I hope you fucking die!"

Amused, you regarded the scene in front of you as Billy took his time coming down the staircase. He was dressed in a black wifebeater and jeans, and appeared unbothered by his date telling him to die. Damn. This was fun. You really did revel in other people's drama.

"Who the fuck are you?" the blonde demanded as soon as she saw you.

"His wife," you responded.

The woman turned around to confront Billy who was now a few feet away. "You're married? You slept with me yesterday, asshole!"

"Ouch!" you remarked, making a face. "That's harsh."

Billy cast a scornful glance at you before grabbing the other woman by the arm. "What part of we're fucking done don't you understand?" His voice was pure ice as he pulled her to the door. "Don't show up here next time, Gwen. Or I'll make sure you never book another modeling gig again."

You cocked your eyebrow as he practically threw the woman out before slamming the door shut in her face. Shit. That was cold. You felt badly for the Gwen woman, she didn't deserve to be humiliated like this. Now the same asshole was approaching you, flashing the same disdain. A slow feeling of dread crept over you but you kept your calm, refusing to cower. "You really know how to treat your women well, don't you?"

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