Just Be True To Me

A moan slipped from her throat as she tore off a piece of bacon. “This makes up for watching me sleep.”

“Towels are already in the bathroom. I have to make a quick run,” he said. “We can go shopping when I get back.” He had a foot out the door when he turned around. “I put your clothes in the wash. They should be done drying—”the dryer buzzed—“right now.” He flashed his teeth before leaving, his voice trailing behind him a second later.

After showering and dressing, Mia decided to explore the house. She noticed there weren’t any pictures of him when he was young, just like the internet. With Clifford being a neat freak, everything was in its proper place. In his office, he had separate drawers for bills, business deals, business proposals, and his current projects. As she was scanning the spines in his library, the only blank one caught her attention. Pulling it back revealed a small secret compartment which hid a small safe. She was about to guess the code when she remembered that she didn’t know anything about him.

Continuing to search the room, she came across a lock box. She worked and poked a paperclip around until the lock popped.

There was a yellowed picture featuring a beautiful young woman holding a little boy’s hand.

“You’ve looked the same your entire life.” Flipping it over revealed that the woman was Clifford’s mom. She snapped a copy with her phone. Pushing it into her back pocket, she read over the rest of the documents, which included his birth certificate, a copy of his social security card, and some old tax returns.

A door closed.

Mia slammed the lid shut and threw the box back in its place. She straightened up after closing the door.

“What were you doing in there?”

“Snooping.” Meeting him halfway, she said, “I didn’t find anything interesting though. For a billionaire, you’re actually pretty boring.”

“I guess that means you didn’t find the secret room.” He chuckled after her eyes widened. His arm slid around her waist as if it were made to be there. “You ready, honey?” He pressed his lips into her cheek.

“At least you’re already in character.”

***

Mia adjusted herself in the chair, making the back of her shirt rise. At the insistence of the annoying prickling sensation, she reached around to scratch. Shock stretched her features upon feeling the evidence. She eased the photo out of the pocket. The curtain slid open.

She stuffed it back down, wincing as it crinkled.

Clifford emerged in a pair of dark denim jeans and a plain white T shirt. Paired with the loafers, he looked like a much more relaxed version of himself. The tailor helped him slide into a cardigan. His face showed no emotion as he looked himself in the mirror.

***

He’d always been his worst critic. The supreme confidence he had become known for started as a defense mechanism. Deep down, in a part of him that he might not have been able to find if pressed, lied the things that were the basis of all the decisions he made, his insecurities; particularly rejection and failure.

He watched Mia through the mirror. The more he observed her, the more he found to like about her. She wasn’t antsy like most women he knew, and he recognized that staring at her phone was to combat the lack of things to look at in the store. He found that the most attractive thing about her was her ability to be present. Every few seconds she would glance up, perhaps checking to see if he was still there; if he was real.

She said, “We’re finally getting somewhere.” Mia adjusted the shirt across his shoulders. “Are you comfortable?” He felt the muscles in his jaw clench. “Take that as a no.”

“No, it’s good. I just never had a woman ask me that before.”

“Sounds like you need to start picking better women.”

Her smile was the last thing he saw before she returned to her seat. The blue from the screen gave her skin a subtle glow.

“Next.”

***

She waited a few seconds to be sure he wasn’t coming back out. In her haste, the corner of the photo ripped when she pulled it out.

“Everything alright out there,” Clifford asked.

“Thought I cracked my skin.” Hearing the jeans slide against his skin, she hurriedly snapped three pictures. Then she texted them to Tamara. Mia managed to slide the photo underneath her thigh just before he reemerged.

He was back in his normal clothes. “Your turn.”

“We’re not here for me.”

“I know there’s something you like out there. You can get whatever you like.”

“I don’t need you to buy me clothes. Besides, I have plenty. Too many. I don’t even wear half the stuff I have.”

He grabbed her hand, telling the tailor to put whatever was in the dressing room on his tab.

***

“Why are we here?” Mia asked as they pulled up to her house.

“You have a problem and I’m going to help you with it. I’m also going to create another income stream for you.” He reached over her to open the door, climbing out after her. His excitement grew as they made their way to the door.

He was a firm believer that the state of a person’s home was a reflection of their mental state. Though he tried to curb his expectations, he prepared for the worst, readying himself to see dirty floors, stained couches, a mound of dishes in the sink, and evidence of a man having been present in recent days. The last thought made him pause.

After pushing her key into the lock, Mia turned to face him. “This is a huge step in our fake relationship. I don’t want you think differently of me when once you get inside.”

He chuckled before saying, “I’m not going to think differently of you, Mia. You would have to sleep with me for that to happen.”

“Well that’s not happening any time soon, so we’re good.” She remained facing him as she turned the key, stepping backward into the house. Once inside, she explained the layout of the house and gave him a mini tour, conveniently leaving out her bedroom.

“Your closet is in your bedroom correct?”

She nodded.