Chapter 46 46

Chapter 46 46
“Ma’am…. We're home,” Ted's gentle voice pierced Sheila's ears and her eyes fluttered open.
She glanced around her new environment and her lips pulled up in shock as she stared in awe, shoulders slumped beside.
It was the same mansion she had woken up in after her ‘single again party'—the same mansion she had misunderstood as a hotel and had promised to give a five star rating.
Her lips suddenly felt heavy as she stared, no word forming in her blank brain.
Ted came down from the car and opened the door for her. An exhale escaped her throat as she lifted her head slightly, staring at the towering mansion.
Her heart pounded in her chest as her grip on her purse tightened, chest heaving.
'Don't let Arthur see you breaking'
Those words from Mira slammed into her like a tidal wave, she pressed her lips together then heaved deeply.
She wasn't going to break. She won't.
She forced a smile to appear on her lips, then turned to Ted to see him opening the car trunk.
Her luggages was pulled out and soon, she was being led into the huge, luxurious mansion.
The mansion’s grandeur was evident in its soaring ceilings and crystal chandeliers.
The grand chandeliers cast long, ominous shadows on the wall, as if foreshadowing the darkness that would soon engulf Sheila's life.
As Sheila walked through the foyer, she met piercing gazes filled with curiosity as her luggages trailed behind her —pulled in by one of the maids.
Their greetings and sickening gaze pissed her. She didn't need any of it.
Their greetings were quite acceptable but their gazes? It was annoying. Irritating.
But she didn't care. She wasn't here for them, but because of a ‘particular someone’
Arthur Wilson.
Her heels clicked steadily on the marble floor, steady, gentle but laced with clear uncertainty, buried emotions and blurred hope.
Her fingers shook slightly and her chest pounded against her chest as she climbed the staircase, the light gleaming in the day.
“We’re here, ma'am,” the maid suddenly paused in front of the room.
Sheila didn't say a word. She only glanced shortly at the maid.
The door was pushed open and as Sheila stepped in, her eyes darted wide and her breath hitched.
Not in bewilderment, not in awe—but in shock.
The king-sized golden bed that sat on the room, the intricate designs and decor, the velvet couch, the walk-in closet, the floor-to-ceiling windows which provided a clearer view of the skyline.
The room was not just your perfect ‘one person room' but screamed something else entirely.
It was a room for two.
Hell!!
As that thought crossed Sheila's mind, her heart clenched as she turned over to the maid, eyes gleaming in curiosity as if telling the maid to tell her her mind was kidding.
Obviously deceiving her. Playing pranks maybe. There's no way in hell she's sharing a room with Arthur.
She can't.
“This is your room, ma'am” the maid finally said, and a deep exhale slipped out of Sheila's throat, her tense mind falling back into relaxation.
Now that's a relief.
“If you ever need anything, don't forget to put a call through the telecom.” the maid further addressed, pointing over the telecom and Sheila nodded.
“Enjoy the rest of your day, ma'am” the maid bowed and made to leave when Sheila's voice made her halt.
“Arthur, where is he?”
The maid turned to Sheila, then brought her face down as if avoiding Sheila's gaze.
“I’m sorry, but I have no answer to that,” She said. “But if you need anything, like I said…. Don't forget to put a call through,”
Before Sheila could say a thing or even react, the door closed in on her, her words getting stuck in her throat.
She exhaled, then placed her purse at the dressing table, her eyes moving around, glancing at the interior of the room, her lips pressed tightly together and her thoughts a messy jumble.
Suddenly, a beep caught through Sheila's thoughts and her lashes blinked.
She turned, then stared at her phone on the table, the caller's ID blurred.
The call came again and she grumpily stretched forth her hand to pick the phone.
Mira forever ~
A genuine smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she swiped the green icon, collapsing on the bed.
It felt too, too soft. The leather soft against her skin, almost bouncing, soothing.
Surreal to be real.
She was rich, but Arthur was richer—wealthier even, and she was nowhere compared to him.
But it felt fake. The luxury she has walked into was fake, hollow, and temporary.
It wasn't real.
“Are you okay?” Mira's voice blared out through the speaker, gentle yet laced with worry.
Sheila chuckled, it was short-lived. “Of course I am,” She responded.
“And how about you?” she queried inquisitively.
A pause.
Then a reply, “I’m good too. Just wanted to confirm you're okay, and yes, have gotten home,” Mira replied curtly.
They spoke for a few more minutes, discussing random stuff but knowingly avoiding bringing up any discussion related to Arthur —or the contract.
Soon, the call ended and Sheila was left alone, yet again, in the silent, choking room.
The gentle click of the clock, the only companion.
Time wore on and seconds slowly passed into minutes—hours, long hours.
Sheila stood, then moved over to the window. The streets were getting darker and the day seemed to have faded, but no glimpse of Arthur, no word from him, no message.
She was ghosted! Probably ignored in the suffocating space.
After what felt like eternity, a gentle knock on the door, then a voice.
“Ma’am, dinner is set,” the voice came and Sheila's chest dropped, her eyes moving to the wall clock for the millionth time.
She sighed, “I’ll be down soon,” she murmured, slipping out of her dress to have a quick shower.
The shower was fast, and jiffy. Soon Sheila stepped out, dressed in something cozy and warm.
A warm loungewear set, her face gorgeous under the gleaming light.
The scent of freshly cooked meals floated in the air—rich, expensive and enough to make one salivate.
But Sheila remained unmoved, like she wasn't perceiving the aroma of the meal.
Her face neutral, emotions buried.
As she approached the dinning, her brows furrowed and her lips stretched.
Arthur was already seated, his fork clicking richly against the sterling silver plate, her presence none of his tea—for now.
He only concentrated, his eyes never glanced up to acknowledge her presence, not for once.
At first, Sheila's fist balled and her teeth clashed, gritting with hatred as her pace increased.
“Didn’t know you were back,” Sheila chirped.
Arthur glanced at her, his eyes glistening with mystery, “Well, you know now.” he cooed, voice darker and holding no warmth.
Sheila's face turned pale as she huffed, then she pulled a seat for herself.
The rest of the eating took place in silence, their hearts heaving in their chest, emotions tumbling.
The silence stretched and the tension grew, but none was ready to break the tension.
None said a word.
Arthur finally picked up a napkin, swiping it across his lips, then stood, “Meet me in the room,” he said, and like that, he walked out, without Sheila saying a word.
Room? Her room? Or his?
Sheila's hands dropped to her side, her face twisted in anger, hatred, disdain even.
Few minutes later, Sheila was done eating. She pushed her door open, popping her head inside slowly, her heart racing.
Then she saw him.
Dressed in a simple flannel PJs, he sat on the couch, expression blank and eyes hollow.
Sheila gulped, her hands sweaty and her lips trembling.
There's a glass of wine in his hand which he's sipping casually from.
Sheila finally opened the door completely then walked in, her shoulder stiffened against the fabric of her dress, her emotions composed as she bolted closer.
Boldly, she sat before him, her brows lifted. “You wanted to see me? Got what to discuss?” She leaned back, crossing her arms.
Arthur kept the glass of wine beside himself, then smiled briefly —a smile which didn't reach his eyes.
“The act you displayed some minutes ago, what was that?”
“Huh?” Sheila's confused brow pulled together and Arthur smirked.
“‘Didn’t know you were back' where was that coming from?” he narrowed his gaze, nose slightly flared up.
Sheila scoffed, eyes flashing with irritation.
“I must have told you the crucial part of the contract, but I don't think I told you the basics.” he snarled further, then tapped the armrest of the couch.
“The contract between us is only valid on paper. Inside, we're total strangers caught up in the same wall. You don't interfere in my life, you don't speak to me unless when asked to,” he said, voice low and taunting.
Sheila's blazing gaze is enough to burn down a house, but Arthur didn't care. He wasn't seeing her.
“Our public display of affection ends outside this wall, Sheila Grey.”