2

There was a certain thrill that came from planning a wedding. Whether an arranged marriage, a love marriage or in my case, a contract.

Especially if the intended groom happened to own a whole lot of money.

A private chaffeur, fancy parties, trips to

world-renowned designers, all expense paid stylists, helps to attend to my every need. But, the best part–seconded by the Annex card–was the popularity.

In the weeks leading up to the wedding, my name was all over the news, bringing in both positive and negative reviews. Suddenly, everyone had an opinion they felt entitled to especially the receptionist and secretaries in Winston Corp.

I saw the questions and accusations on their faces, some felt I did not deserve it, while others asked if blackmail was the reason. Why would a billionaire want to marry an unknown face, an ordinary secretary?

If there was one thing Cole and I agreed on, any publicity was good publicity. He needed the media to see him as a humble CEO who fell for his 'number one fan'.

As for me, climbing up the ladder for three years as a receptionist with no acknowledgement, I started being seen when I became Cole's secretary, getting some credit and plenty backlash with it.

When he proposed, the whole country tried to get in contact with me. Offers began to troop in, ambassadorial deals became massive.

Now Mrs. Winston for two days, everyone wanted an exclusive with me. How did I land the number three most eligible bachelor in the country? How did I keep his past attachments and entanglements quiet? What was the next plan as the wife of a billionaire?

I chuckled as I read the entertainment section of the celebrity magazine, recalling when a reporter sent me a messsage before the wedding. "Rumours say your fiance has a baby-mama. How true is it?"

I knew the public saw me as a weak individual, easy to draw out the story from. But when I threatened to take the man to court the next day for unlawful accusation and defamement, I guess that perception changed.

Cole staggered quietly into the room, bringing with him the stench of alcohol as he fell into the couch. I sighed and got out of bed, walking over to him.

"I thought we agreed that you would not do this, at least not days after our wedding. Do you no longer want the million dollar deal?" I asked, shaking my head as I pulled off his shirt and socks.

"Back off. You have no right to tell me what to do," He slurred, weakly pushing away my hand. Expertly, I folded his hands over his head and continued with my business. The man was drunk more nights than he was sober, and as his secretary, taking care of the mess was part of the job description. Luckily, Winston Corp. paid me for it.

A bright red lipstick at the collar of his shirt caught my attention, and I shook my head in dismay, the disgust I had learned to hide away over the years creeping out. Every night was a new woman, and those investors were unwise to think marriage could stop his philandering ways.

Cole Winston had never appeared with the same woman twice for any event, instead always showcasing a new candy on his arm. Fortunately, I was the first–three events and counting–and the media would remember that forever.

Soon, I managed to undress him enough to put him into the king-size bed in the master bedroom. The room he had never slept in since the wedding.

As I cleared away his belongings, I recalled our wedding night. I was not expecting anything to happen, that part was taken care of by the contract, but I did not expect Cole to drop me off in the room and leave.

"For the sake of the helps, we have to pretend to share this room. But I'll be staying in the extra room over there," he promptly informed me, pointing to a door at one side of the huge room.

He drove off that night, not bothering to return till the next morning. I shook my head, and looked at my reflection in the bedside mirror.

My black hair still packed in a ponytail cascaded across my back, side bangs framing my face as they hid a huge forehead. The diamond earrings Cole gifted me at our engagement party sat pretty on my ears, glittering brightly. My skin never looked more supple than it did, and my rosy lips shone a bright pink.

I would get past this. Ten months was all it took.