Arranged(9)

I knew that Chester was forty-six because he mentioned it often, usually when he was lamenting about his various aches and pains.

It was Chester that went with me everywhere. He was good company, so I never minded. He was a hell of an upgrade from Asha the Dour.

Though Asha hadn’t gone far. She didn’t escort me around as diligently as Chester, but I still had to wake up to her presence in my life every single day.

It was almost a month in and my routine was down pat.

I woke up at six a.m. sharp. My alarm went off and I was up and in the shower within one minute.

God forbid I’d hit the snooze button and have Asha in my face calling me a sloth.

From the shower, I slipped into a robe and padded to my extravagant, sunken living room. I contemplated my view of the bustling, sleepless city while I awaited my team meeting.

Yes, I had a team. My husband was absent, of course, but I never lacked for company.

Chester brought me coffee, and I accepted it with a grateful, “Thank you.”

For convenience as well as protection, Chester and Vincent were housed in the apartment directly next door to mine.

When we were home, however, they could more often be found hanging out in my living room.

“You’re welcome, Duchess. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Chester,” I returned with a smile. His nickname for me had appeared early on in our acquaintance, and it never failed to amuse me. I hadn’t married into any kind of title aside from rich man’s wife, but I was apparently close enough to nobility for Chester. It didn’t hurt that he always infused warm affection into the word, making it an endearment.

I liked Chester. A lot. He made it almost bearable to deal with Asha.

Think of the devil. At just that moment Asha’s dour form swept into the room. I turned from the view to meet her severe gaze.

“A robe is hardly decent attire to be wearing in front of men who aren’t your husband,” she opined harshly, her mean eyes raking over me.

“It’s the crack of dawn, and I’m standing in my own living room,” I returned coldly. “I’ll wear whatever the hell I like. Just get started with today’s schedule, please.”

I was well aware that Asha saw me as nothing but an insignificant eighteen-year-old piece of fluff who’d married for money. I’d made the mistake of deferring to her early on, as I’d been told that her job was, in essence, to manage me, and that I should listen to her. After the wedding I’d changed my strategy with her. I stopped putting up with all of her shit in silence. I didn’t have the power to fire her, but I also didn’t have to bear her insults quietly.

So far, standing up for myself and speaking my mind had given me no consequences from her higher ups, which was fortunate, because I had no plans to stop.

“Before we get to the schedule,” Asha began imperiously, completely ignoring our rude exchange, which was typical, “let me go over yourcall backs and bookings. You got the Stuart Weitzman job. Congratulations.” She said every word with utter disdain. “That will be very high profile. They tell me this will be an extensive amount of work for you starting as early as next week. You also received an offer to do the YSL fragrance campaign, but I’m still working with them on the schedule for that. It consists of a long video which shoots in Paris, and they want you for an entire week. That will be tricky but it’s being worked out.”

I didn’t see why it mattered if I was gone for a week, since I never saw my husband anyway, but I didn’t say anything. This was the arrangement I’d agreed to.

“You booked four more runway shows,” Asha continued, “and the offers are already coming in for fashion week, and let me tell you, that’s going to be a messy affair. I’ll clear it all with Mr. Castelo. What else? Oh yes. About the lingerie campaign you were offered. Your husband and the VS people finally came to an agreement. A limited one. You can take the job, but he sees each garment before you model it. They agreed to let him give the thumbs up or down, which was unexpected, but there you are.”

Vincent, my driver, walked into the room just then, nodded his head at me and sat down without a word.

“As for today,” Asha continued searching through her notes, not so much as sparing him a glance, “at noon sharp you have a luncheon with your mother-in-law and the board for the Castelo Foundation. That will last several hours. Next on the list is a photo shoot at four. You’ll have to go there directly from lunch. You’ll need to come home and change for a gala tonight. Your in-laws will be attending. Try not to embarrass them.”

“Is that everything?” I asked. I already knew that all of the free time left after that schedule would be spent either eating or working with my personal trainer.

“Since you don’t have anything until noon, I’ve scheduled you for two hours with your trainer starting at six forty-five. I see you already showered, but you’ll just have to shower again when you’re done. Hair and makeup will be here at nine thirty to prep you for the luncheon.”

I just nodded. I’d expected as much as soon as I’d seen that I’d been allotted significant windows of free time.

I left to get dressed, hoping that was the end of my morning interaction with Asha.

No such luck. She followed me into my closet. “The paparazzi will be at your gym, so make sure you’re presentable.”