Belongs to him

13 | You and me

Alina Windsor

For some reason, going to his place scared me. It was simply to talk or hang out. I wasn't spending the night or here for anything specific. He claimed it was good for us to talk and get to know each other.

But hanging out with my 'husband' to get to know him more sounded weird. I married a man I had to get to know now. I was surprised after these past few days, he hadn't asked for an annulment.

I wasn't sure if I was at the right place. Because the interior of this place was beyond beautiful. I'd never seen a lobby quite like this for a New York City residence. Marble archways coated the place with decadent gold doors and a fireplace to the side. I felt like I was in the world's nicest hotel. There wasn't even a bin to throw rubbish in.

But this was the lobby for 520 Park Avenue, so it was expected. I read up on the architecture of this place once; it was incomparable. But what scared me more was that this man lived in the penthouse.

"Can I help you, Miss?" I looked to my left, and a man stood at a desk, staring at me, confused. I was not a resident here, but with my Banana Republic blouse and Zara jeans, it made sense for him to be.

I didn't have a trace of Chanel or Hermes on me, which I saw a woman walk in here with just two minutes prior. But I was sticking out like a sore thumb rather than hiding in plain sight, which earned me a dirty look from the guy.

He stood in his gray suit, waiting for me to answer him. I felt like I was on trial for something I'd done. But I was simply just existing in his presence.

"I'm Mr.Romano's wife, Alina." It was weird calling myself his wife. But legally, that's who I was, even if I wasn't emotionally.

"His wife?" he asked, speculating with me, "Mr.Romano is unmarried and certainly not with a British woman. What are you doing here?" His tone was more harsh than earlier, and he looked at me like I was the gum stuck in his shoe.

"You could call him up and ask; he told me to head up to the penthouse," With those words, he stepped away from the desk like he was going to body-block me from the elevator.

"I'm going to have to call security, ma'am. Mr.Romano is a very private man; his wife would be in residence with him." I knew I should've called him. At least I texted that I was on my way up. But now security would probably kick me out. I didn't blame the man.

But he was treating me quite more rude than I expected. He had no right to treat me like this, no matter how annoyed he was. You never know who you may be talking to. But even more importantly, you never know what one's going through. Humility isn't something that needs to be earned. It's something that is expected.

"If you'd just let me call him-"

"M'am you have to leave, other tenants will be in soon and worry for their safety. Someone like you doesn't belong here," I wasn't mad before, but now I was. Because this man was stepping out of place, discriminating against me for lack of wealth. But what was worse was that he claimed me to be a safety hazard.

"Roger," I read off the plastic name tag pinned to his suit jacket. I am offended that you see me as a safety threat. I am simply here to see my husband. I understand the situation seems tricky, but—" Before I can finish, he reaches for his walk and requests security.