The CEO's Wife

Chapter 5 - Well aren't you happy?

♡

Sara's POV

"Hey you."

I put the book down and peered up.

Michael leaned against the door frame to our bedroom, our German shepherd next to him, wagging his tail.

Our golden Labrador was next to me, head on my stomach and smiling away as I patted her head, which was her favourite spot.

It has been hours after Victor left, who had grinned and mentioned lunch with Marthe, hours after titles had been passed onto us. We both had to come to terms with them and split to distract ourselves - or to think about them.

For Michael, that meant a jog, do handyman work, respond to the never decreasing workload.

I took my mind off by cleaning. I unpacked the suitcase, gave the house a quick scrub and drew a book out the library Michael had made. I saw one book missing and knew he was somewhere in the house reading it. Most likely The Great Gatsby, as he always loved reading it when he pondered on things.

"Hey."

Michael strode closer and once he reached the bed, bent down to kiss me. I met him half-way. "You are awfully quiet."

"I'm just ...", I closed my eyes, sighing. "I'm letting this all go through my head. I still haven't come to terms with it. I'm still repeating the titles over and over again. Victor's visit caught me by surprise, honestly. I actually thought we would go to work tomorrow like nothing happened, and just work away until the next big thing."

"And the big thing was faster than we were", Michael sat down by my side, careful of Ellie who was now almost dozing off. Hunter was running around the bed, stopping to stare at us which a crooked head before he rushed from side to side again. Michael threw his toy anytime the dog brought it.

The dogs wouldn't leave our side ever since we had picked them up from Philipp.

"What does it all mean? I mean, I understand but I ... I just can't grasp it! Duchess and Duke like we are some British royals and have the Queen above us! Do I wave? Do I do charities? Do I drive somewhere to be seen? And how will the news reach us? By pigeon?"

Michael's hard mouth cracked into a smile. "Silly thing you. It will be either by email or a phone call, most likely. They aren't old fashioned in that regard." His hand patted my leg up and down. "I don't know myself fully, but I do know that it's all just a big 'smile fake, talk to people like you care, laugh because you are all rich' and that's it."

"Your voice says enough how you think about this whole ordeal", I put my hand on his arm. "I know you don't care about it, but I just couldn't let it evaporate into nothingness after what Victor said. It's a family's tradition - and both are something wonderful you can lean on in the time of need. They are important. They are not a given. We should be glad about this opportunity."

"I know, and I would have felt bad if I had denied it", Michael sighed and looked up to the ceiling. "But I fucking hate it so much. Mom dragged me along when I was small and it was just sit and do nothing. Converse. Eat finger food. Write letters."

"Well, sounds like things we can skip, except for the letters", I suggested.

Michael wriggled his finger before me with a stern expression. "I wasn't done. Garden parties, trips, foundations, charity, and much more - we all have to attend them religiously or else we'll have a problem."

Work, both in France and America. Travelling. Planning. Pushing appointments around. When would we have time for ourselves?

I bit my lips. "... We'll manage."