Mr Reluctant Billionaire || BWWM

Eight

Once the door of the private jet slides open, I am blessed with a view of the limousine waiting for us. The chauffeur in a black suit is standing by the side, a hand on the door handle, ready to open up. I chuckle at the sight, I have never had a chauffeur, I don’t even have a car and I can’t help but think about how much my husband is worth.

Brandon’s hand comes around my waist to steady me as we walk down the short stairs and a small smile flits to my lips. As soon as my feet lands on the pavement, I tap his shoulder. His head turns in my direction, eyebrow arched and I place a chaste kiss on his lips which stops him in his track.

His surprise is barely concealed, I giggle and drag him gently for us to resume the journey to our car so I can avoid explaining myself. I have no idea why I did that too.

The driver sends a nod our way when we approach him, his lips pull into a straight line, then he opens the door. I go in first and Brandon joins me. He pulls me closer so there’s no space left between us and his hand palms my hip. Once Brandon gives the driver our location, a small window slides up to provide us with privacy and I smile.

His fingers work their way into my curls, he tugs on the bun and my hair cascades down to my chest. I bite my lip when he starts massaging my scalp, something about it sends a chill up my spine, which spreads throughout my body. It is comforting, not in a sexual way but in a way that makes my body relax and intensifies the urge to take a nap. I want to wrap my arms around him.

“Have you been to France?” he asks

Moans of contentment slip from me at his delicate touch, this is the best scalp massage ever and I manage to shake my head. I don’t want to tell him that though I haven’t been here, I had envisioned us coming here for our honeymoon in hopes of us falling in love with each other, just like my parents did. Paris helped with their poor love life.

My eyes part open and I angle my head in his direction, he’s already staring at me. I can’t help but think of a near-future with us together as real lovers. Asides from his hate of virgins and gifts, he doesn’t treat me bad.

“Ma and Pa, they... My parents,” I quickly correct when his eyes narrow. “They had their honeymoon in Paris.” He nods, his hand moves from my scalp to my shoulder and my lips pull into a scowl. I miss the feeling of his fingers in my hair already.

Brandon lets out a laugh and squeezes me briefly, I don’t want to jinx it by making a loud observation but he seems different. We have been in this city for less than one hour and I can already spot a difference in his demeanour. He’s calmer, more forgiving.

On the jet, when he looked right through me, I had feared for my status as his wife. I had believed it was over until his request.

We drive past buildings of different sizes; tall, gigantic and medium. Beautiful and mundane looking, each of them holding my attention captive for a few seconds before I move on to the next building of interest. A couple holding hands step out of a store, the man kisses the lady without notice and her cheeks light up in the faintest shade of pink.

Her words are lost on me as our car speeds past them and I sigh, my shoulder sags, it is too early to hope for anything but if I am lucky, some of the love floating in the air might creep into Brandon’s cold heart.

My head is now resting on his shoulder, if I’m causing him any sort of discomfort he doesn’t act like it. As usual, he keeps his cool and a part of me looks forward to seeing him lose complete control. He will be fun to watch when that happens; I can’t wait for it.

“Do you believe in love?” I ask after seconds of silence.

His answer takes a while to come, when it does, it shows he has thought long and hard about it. Either that or, this is a question he has been asked one too many times.