Mila's POV
I arrived at the hotel two and a half hours late. As my limousine stopped at the entrance, Matt was there, all smiles. He opened the car door and, like the gentleman he is, gave me his hand to help me out.
His business associates stood nearby, smoking and watching my arrival. This was one of his events, and I already knew I had messed up again by being late. Today was not my day. Tipsy from all the alcohol I drank back at the club, I couldn't help but feel like I smelled of booze and cigarettes. I hoped no one would notice.
Putting on the biggest smile, I tried to be as charming as possible. The event was boring, as they always are. People walked around, chatting with each other. It's called networking - rich people's idea of having fun. Everyone had an agenda, needing something from someone. The main idea was to find mutually beneficial interests.
Matt excelled at this. He was like a fish in the ocean, self-confident, loved, and respected. He dragged me around, introducing me to people like some shiny trophy. My job was to smile and nod, talk as little as possible, and stand by his side at all times. I treated it as a job. This is how he earned money, and if an evening like this was a success, he would be gone on another business trip for yet another week or two.
But something was off about me tonight. I looked at my husband and couldn't help but compare him to the men I met earlier. I was afraid to even think his name in case, for some weird reason, Matt could hear my thoughts.
They were completely opposite. Matt was steady, his eyes always confident, but they never spoke. His suit was always tailored to perfection, his clothes always clean and matched, his expensive watch on his right hand. His only other accessory was me.
He was every woman's dream, straight from romantic books. Polite in public, well-articulated, and utterly boring. There was nothing beyond his appearance. But who am I to complain when he gives me everything a woman could ask for: security, home, money, fame? Everyone has flaws, and his flaw was being the most boring man on the planet. I could live with that.
Bill, on the other hand, was a complete mystery to me. Maybe because he was a stranger, but he felt so complex, and his eyes and body language spoke for themselves. That man didn't need words at all, but the very few he said cut right through me.
"I see someone is ruling over you..." No, no, no, Matt is not ruling over me. He is my choice. Why would I listen to a complete stranger?
But I still felt his warm fingertips on my hand after he touched my ring. It was almost like an imprint, poisoning my mind with thoughts I should not have.
When the party was over and we headed home, Matt didn't speak to me at all. I was tense. I knew something was not right. Silent treatment meant I had messed up - what was it this time?
As elevator stopped at our apartment and the door closed, he threw his jacket on the chair and inhaled deeply. I froze.
"Why the fuck did you have to embarrass me like that?" He looked at me with disgust.
"What did I do?" I asked, genuinely not knowing.
"Oh, stop pretending and playing dumb!" he raised his voice. I had a feeling I knew what would follow.
He yanked me by my shoulder, turning me to the mirror.
"Look at yourself!" he ordered.
I looked at my reflection, not seeing anything wrong.
"Do you think this is appropriate?" he kept shaking me.
"Stop it!" I pushed away.
"You came hours late, dressed like a whore to MY event, knowing very well what type of people would be there!" His face turned red with anger, and it didn't suit him well.
"But you bought me this dress," I couldn't help but argue back.
"I bought it, but I never said you could wear it. Not today." His anger intensified.
"Do I have to ask you what clothes I can wear?" I got angry as well.
"Yes, you do, because you're not capable of making any decision right." He sat on the sofa. "Why do I always have to take care of you?" His anger turned to self-pity.
Tears built up in me. When I picked the dress, I thought I looked beautiful. I wanted to show him that I loved his gifts and appreciated him. Instead, he thought I looked like a whore?
I glanced one more time in the mirror.
Maybe he was right... even Bill gave me a mock toast at the bar, probably thinking I was a cheap wannabe. I would never wear that dress again.
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