Chapter 3
Simon took me back to his private villa.
The place was halfway up the mountain, ridiculously huge, and decked out in that icy black-and-white vibe, totally at odds with my love for flashy colors.
"Is this where we're supposed to live after getting married?" I asked, looking around curiously.
"It's my house," Simon said, cutting me off. "You're just staying here for now."
He led me to a guest room on the second floor. The place was huge, but it felt empty, like nobody had ever actually lived here.
"This is your room," Simon said, pointing. "Mine's across the hall. Don't come over unless you have to."
"Okay," I replied as I nodded, getting the message.
After all, we were just a couple on paper. It only made sense to keep our distance.
"And one more thing," Simon said, pulling out a contract and handing it to me. "This is the post-marriage agreement. Take a look, and if you're okay with it, sign here."
I took it and gave it a quick scan.
The agreement was pretty detailed, but it basically boiled down to three points.
First, we had to act like a loving couple in public and make sure no one found out it was all for show.
Second, we wouldn't interfere in each other's private lives. Simon could do his thing, and I could do mine.
Third, after a year, we would get divorced. I would leave empty-handed, but he would pay me 3 million as compensation.
3 million.
I counted all those zeros, and I was so stunned I nearly had a heart attack.
Even if I busted my ass as a food blogger for a whole year, I would never make that much.
Now, all I had to do was get married, do nothing for a year, and boom—3 million.
What kind of dream job was this?
"No problem. Absolutely no problem!" I said as I whipped out my pen like a total suck-up and scribbled my name down in a heartbeat.
Simon watched me, his brows knitting even tighter at how desperate I looked.
"Seriously, you don't want to add anything?" he asked.
"I do," I replied as I raised my hand.
Simon gave me a look, telling me to speak up.
"So, is food and lodging included? How's the food here? Do you have a personal chef? Are the ingredients fancy and imported?" I asked.
Simon's face turned stormy.
I swear, I was gonna give this guy high blood pressure one of these days.
Simon took a deep breath, looking like he was barely holding himself back from tossing me out the window right then and there.
Simon said, "Julia, pay attention.
"Starting tomorrow, you're Mrs. Carter. The Carter family's reputation comes first. So you'd better keep a low profile and don't make a scene as you did at the wedding."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it," I said, waving him off. "I've heard all the rich guy speeches before. Just act cold and play the elegant lady, right? I know how it goes."
With that, I straightened my back, tucked in my chin, and flashed him a practiced, fake smile, just like those socialites in TV dramas.
Simon's lips twitched, but he didn't say a word. He just turned and walked away.
I watched him walk away, curling my lip in disdain.
Looked at him, acting like he owned the place.
Once I got my 3 million, I was off to travel the world and eat my way through every country; he wouldn't even see my dust.
After taking a shower in the guest room and changing into my pajamas, I realized I was starving.
I had eaten plenty at the wedding, but after all that running around, it was long gone.
I tiptoed out of my room, planning to sneak into the kitchen and find something to eat.
The villa was so huge, I felt like a country bumpkin wandering around a fancy mansion. It took me ages to finally track down the kitchen.
The kitchen was open-plan, decked out like a sci-fi movie set. All sorts of kitchen equipment I had never even seen before sparkled everywhere.
I swung open the double-door fridge and was absolutely floored by what was inside.
There were M9-grade wagyu beef, cold-water blue lobster, southern obsidian black abalone, every luxury ingredient one could dream of, all lined up in perfect rows, like soldiers on parade.
I was so thrilled I teared up.
This wasn't a fridge; it was pure heaven.
I decided to treat myself to a late-night feast.
Teppanyaki-style Wagyu beef, seared foie gras, and for the finishing touch, a bottle of '82 Lafite.
Perfect.
Just as I was tying on my apron, ready to show off my cooking skills, a cold voice cut through the silence behind me.
"What are you doing?" Simon said.
I jumped, nearly dropping the wagyu beef in my hand.
I turned around to see Simon leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a black silk robe, watching me quietly, his gaze deep and unreadable.
His hair was still damp from the shower, a few loose strands falling over his forehead and softening his usually sharp features. Simon looked less intimidating than he did during the day, and honestly, gave off a surprisingly domestic kind of sexiness.
"I was just hungry, looking for something to eat," I said, feeling a bit sheepish.
"All those ingredients in the fridge are for entertaining important guests tomorrow," Simon said, his tone flat as ever.
The wagyu in my hand suddenly felt scorching hot.
"Sorry, sorry, I had no idea," I blurted, quickly shoving the beef back.
This was so awkward that I busted for midnight snacking by the owner himself.
"If you want something to eat, just have Amy whip something up for you," Simon said.
"Who's Amy?" I asked.
"She's the housekeeper here," Simon replied.
"Isn't it kinda late to bother her?" I said. "I don't want to get labeled as the midnight tyrant on my first day."
"Then go hungry," Simon said, turning to leave.
"Wait," I called after him.
Simon turned back.
I fished a pack of instant noodles out of the corner of the fridge and waved it at him.
"So, Mr. Carter, is it cool if I just borrow a pot?" I asked.
Simon stared at the instant noodles in my hand, his expression unreadable.
His gaze was so complicated, it was like he was trying to figure out if I was some kind of alien from another dimension.
After a long moment, Simon sighed, finally walked over, and took the noodles from me.
"I'll do it," he said.
I just stood there, dumbfounded.
"You actually know how?" I blurted out.
Simon didn't even bother to answer. He went ahead, boiling water, firing up the stove, cracking an egg, like he had done a thousand times.
I watched him working at the stove, his broad shoulders and slim waist highlighted by the silk robe, the fabric tracing the lines of his toned muscles.
Maybe this guy wasn't as bad as I thought.
In no time, Simon served up a bowl of instant noodles that smelled absolutely amazing.
He even threw in a couple of slices of spam and some greens, topped off with a perfect soft-boiled egg.
The aroma was so good, my mouth was watering like crazy.
"Dig in," he said, sliding the bowl over to me.
I grabbed my fork and slurped up a huge mouthful, barely able to wait.
"Whoa, this is delicious," I mumbled with my mouth full.
Simon watched me devour the noodles, looking a bit lost in thought.
"Slow down, no one's going to steal it from you," Simon said.
"Aren't you going to eat?" I asked.
"I don't eat junk food," he replied.
I rolled my eyes.
Ugh, rich people. Like, being loaded made you so great.
I finished off the noodles, slurping up every last drop of broth, and let out a satisfied burp.
"Thanks for the noodles," I said, genuinely grateful.
It was the first and only time he had ever shown me any kindness.
"Don't mention it," Simon said, his eyes deep and unreadable. "Just consider it an advance on your staff meal."