Chapter 9 CHAPTER NINE: HONEY TO THE MOON.
ZARA
Michael wasn't in bed when my eyes opened. I sighed and got out of bed. I had fallen asleep before he slipped into bed last night, but I felt the dip on the other side of the bed. His side of the bed was warm an indication he was there.
I picked up my phone to go through the messages that might have been left for me overnight.
My parents had ensured that even though it was a private wedding, the media knew I was getting married. Many people didn't believe that I was getting married for real. I couldn't blame them; after all, my reputation did precede me.
My father had asked me not to report to work for at least two weeks; I was on my honeymoon, and truly, I had no idea what to do with this time off. The longest one in a long while.
Perhaps I could spend the day with Amara. I dialled her number, and she picked up on the first ring.
“What is a married woman doing calling me on her first morning as Mrs?”
“Oh god, please stop.” I laughed, rolling my eyes. I guess the reality of being married didn't feel quite real yet.
“I was thinking since you are in the city, we could maybe spend time together.”
‘And encroach on your honeymoon?”
“You know there is no moon, honey,” I said, a smile forming on my lips, praising how witty I was.
“I know, but when I got married to Noah, I still had my honeymoon even though I didn't want to, and it ended up being a good thing.”
“Are you just saying this because you don’t want to spend time with me?” I asked, the disappointment in my voice clear.
“I want to, Zara. But Noah wants to take me on multiple dates while we’re in the city.” Her tone was apologetic, yet I still felt that sting of being unwanted.
“Or he wants you by his side every minute of the day so he can control you,” I mumbled, immediately regretting the harshness.
“I will be back in the city soon; I just know it,” she promised, but it held more than she was willing to let on.
“Bye,” I chimed, ending the call quickly. I was alone.
I slipped into my robe and walked downstairs. The kitchen was bustling with soft romantic jazz music. Such a strange occurrence in the city, considering everyone here seemed to be into pop and classical music—a weird mix.
I pushed the door and stopped in my tracks when, instead of the chef, Michael was standing shirtless in front of the stove, with only the strap of the apron on his neck and waist. His back flexed as he worked whatever magic he did.
He was not supposed to look so domestic and dangerous in that apron.
“Umm…hi…” “Good morning,” I said, finally moving from place. I bit my upper lip as I walked in.
“Good morning,” he said, turning to me. His forehead was covered in sweat, and his lips were pulled into a smile. He dropped the bowl and revealed a stack of pancakes.
“You are cooking?” The words sounded more like an accusation than a question.
“Yes, I am.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Can’t I cook for my wife?”
The word 'wife' had never sounded so real and so sexy at the same time. We were married, and it seemed like the reality of the situation was only just dawning on me for the first time since yesterday.
“I mean, yes, but that is what we have staff for.”
“I told them not to disturb us.”
“Why?”
“We are on our honeymoon; I can make meals and feed them to you,” he ended with a wink.
“Michael, there is a system here; we don’t have to do all that by ourselves.”
“Just for the honeymoon period,” he cut me off. How could I argue with that?
“But wait,” something finally snapped in my head.
“What is it?” He stopped in his tracks from moving closer to me.
“Were you able to get leave from your boss?” I didn't want to disrupt his schedule. If he wanted to keep his job as a bartender, I didn't mind.
“Of course.”
“That quickly?” It was suspicious. For a low-level employee like him, didn't he need to give in at least a few weeks' notice? How was it that it had gotten approved so easily? Even I, an heiress, needed permission from work, but he just seemed to receive it?
“What do you mean?”
"I mean, you gave in only two days' notice, and you got the leave? That is a bit weird.”
He licked his lips, and I saw his eyes dart from side to side, and then he let out a small giggle.
“The manager at the bar is a very good friend of mine, and he did this for me; I just have to work double shifts for a while after the wedding,” he explained.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Was my hunch right? Was this man the illegitimate son of a rich family who was doing this to piss off his family? Did the salary not matter to him? I opened my mouth to speak.
“Well, should we have breakfast now?” he said before I could think more about what was happening. There was just something strange, but there was no way for me to put a pin in it.
I didn't like the feeling of being useless in my own house, so I offered to help.
“Yeah, sure, what can I help with?” I asked, trying to help him carry out the dishes. I couldn't cook, but at least I could set the table. He stopped me in my tracks with his body.
“Nothing. Sit and let me take care of you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am”
As I watched him set the table, I couldn't help but feel like he had settled in more than I had, yet it felt like he didn't belong.