Chapter four
Chapter 4
Elizabeth POV
I was still in that stupid negligee. It was beautiful. Lacy and comfortable.
La Perla according to the label. I couldn't afford things like this. I had a regular job. My family had money, but it was their money. My father was the CFO of Warren Galleries, an art and antiquities juggernaut, in the same league at the Sotheby's.
Jackson was the CEO of Archer jewelries Worldwide, while his older brother Duncan managed the European business and Dean the Asian. His parents were officially retired but still involved as board members.
My mother and sister were entrepreneurs in their own right. Their brand weren't successful…yet, but they were well on their way according to everyone.
I was a struggling artist.
I had a small loft apartment on the wrong end of Market Street in San Francisco. It was more studio than apartment.
So far, I'd managed to win a few art awards and get my work into nondescript galleries. My parents had never thought I was a good enough artist.
It stung because my father's business was art. But it was what I loved, and my teachers and various mentors told me that my surreal style was intense and thought provoking. They advised me to keep honing my skill.
When my mother and sister asked me to work for them because they didn’t have the funds to hire employees, I'd had a job offer with Sotheby's to restore art. It was what I wanted to do. But family came first so I turned down the job.
My relationship with my mother and sister wasn't tight—but I hoped that if I helped them with their new business we would become close; that they asked me meant they trusted me.
Instead of working on Renoirs, I spent a lot of time talking to distributors, making sure the products used in their boutique were organic and were delivered on time. It was a hard job and took a lot out of me, but I still made time for my art. I was hoping that when I had a collection of fifteen paintings, I could create a portfolio and take it around to galleries. One day,
I would get my chance.
Just like I had gotten a chance to be with Jackson.
Obviously, it was all a big mistake and the minute he woke up he'd tell me that we needed to get this sham of a marriage annulled. I knew that. But I'd touched Jackson and he'd been inside me.
His eyes opened then as if he could hear my thoughts. He looked at me still half asleep. I could literally see his brain process my presence.
"Good morning," I whispered and smiled tentatively.
"When's your flight?" he asked.
"In three hours."
"Maybe you should get ready."
I frowned. "Ah…Jackson, I'd like to talk about last night."
He sat up. "We will. Let's do it when we're back at home, yeah?"
"Wouldn't…ah…wouldn't it be easier to get the…thing annulled or whatever right away?"
He stared at me like I'd asked him to dance at Chippendales in a tutu.
"Annulled?"
I licked my lips. "Look, you were drunk and…I know you don't want to be married to me."
He arched an eyebrow. "And how would you know that, Elizabeth? "
The way he said my name was sexy. I wasn't even wearing panties, but they were melting wherever they were.
"I just…I mean…you were with Pearl and…," I sighed, "Look, you and Pearl break up and make up all the time. Let's just fix this so no one has to know about it. Or…maybe it's not even legal. Is it?"
"It's legal."
He got out of bed. His black boxers cupped his very fine and tight ass. It was like a dream to have him like this with me. Like a fantasy come true.
"Okay."
"We need to obviously fix this," he remarked.
"Yes."
"I'm assuming you don't want to stay married to me?" He sounded unsure and I was certain I was in a scene in a movie, and I didn't know my lines.
Any minute now the director was going jump into the scene and scream,
"Cut."
"Do you want to stay married to me?" This was the strangest question I'd ever thought I'd ask anyone…and I was asking it of Jackson.
"We're married," he said matter-of-factly. "You don't want to miss your flight, Elizabeth. I'll see you in San Francisco. Let's say tomorrow at ten in my office and figure this out.
I climbed out of bed myself, suddenly feeling tired, exhausted,
emotionally drained. What was going on?
"We'll discuss logistics. Do you need the bathroom?"
I nodded.
"Go ahead. What's your room number? I'll get someone to pack up your things and bring them here."
I was too tired to argue about a stranger going through my things, so I just gave him the number and told him the key was in my purse.
As he walked out of the bedroom, I called out to him, "Jackson. Are we really married?" I asked inanely.
He didn't smile. He looked serious and irritated. "Yes, Elizabeth, we're really married. Now, get ready."