Love and other contractual obligations

Chapter 2: Jealousy is a social construct

When the first thing she saw that morning was the crumpled sheath dress in the corner of the room, Rei came to her senses and shut her eyes tightly with a groan.

What were you thinking. Kami.

She just had to go break the peace didn't she, inviting him to approach her exposed back and corner her against the rails. Why not just giggle and simper like Bare Spine-girl and complete the transformation to trophy wife bimbo?

She buried her face into a pillow and shuddered.

This was meant to be her revenge, the giant fuck-you in neon lights to her dead, match-making father. The private school and the conditional trust funds, the veritable lassoes of money that kept her and her mother bound to Brandon Publishing, she could come to terms with. But he did not get to pull strings from beyond the grave. Marriage was one thing; love was an entirely different story written by her and her alone. If there was anything she could control in the narrative of her life, it was who she fell in love with, and there would be no way it would ever be her father's choice of man. It was a matter of principle. And fuck him for thinking he knew better. She'd shack up with a goddamn farmer if it would prove that that bastard didn't know a thing about her.

This was meant to be easy. Jadeite wasn't meant to be attractive. They promised her a trust fund pretty boy and she got… that.

He had a very direct, disarming gaze. She remembered it vividly from when she stormed into his office. She remembered his large hands too, from when he thumbed a thick folder from the file cabinet and slid her pre-nup across his desk. The first time he'd touched her, skin to skin, was when he grasped her elbow to draw her into the courtroom. The unexpected contact had made her flinch, and his eyes lingered just the moment on the way her skin gave under his fingers. They never shook hands; there was never any brushing contact exchanging stemware or fountain pens. She didn't even take his proffered biro when it came to signing the registry.

With the morning sunlight now streaming across her face, Rei kicked off the covers with a huff and sat up with a defeated sigh.

He was a name and a signature, and a means to an end. It didn't matter that his hands were shapely and calloused, or that he made her skin prickle with awareness.

She remained resolute. After rebuffing his fifth or sixth attempt at amicability, he got the picture that she was not interested in being friends. She was perfectly happy playing the shrew wife, the cold untouchable woman in sculpted gowns. Really, she just needed to keep to hating him forever. It was the only way for her to face herself.

Soon after, he stopped pretending too. Sometimes, she would catch him staring at her just before the flavour of the month curved their lithe bodies into his arms, and he would ghost his hands over their shoulders, their waists, and probably more besides.

Rei stomped to the bathroom, trying to shake the image of him slaking his lust on the very agreeable Bare Spine-girl. From what was visible, she certainly had a very nice back. He had a very nice back. Shoulders. She imagined him pinning her wrists above her head.

This line of inquiry is OVER.

She stripped off her nightwear and glanced at herself in the mirror. When was the last time she got laid? She let her fingertips trace over her flat belly, the contours of her ribs and hips. She could definitely do the same and have a piece or two on the side, instead of simmering in this mire of unresolved tension – one-sided, of course. She cupped her breasts. It was cold in the tiled room, and her nipples were hard, and she suddenly imagined his large hands replacing hers as his body enfolded her from behind.

She blinked it away, and glared angrily at her reflection. This was a fucking cosmic joke.

They didn't see each other for a week. It was on purpose; at least, it was for her. She timed it so that when she 'accidentally' let their breakfasts coincide for a few minutes, her skin had finally quit tingling.

There was a captioned photo of them from the party: his arm wrapped around her, pressing a kiss to her hair, the picture-perfect couple. He slid the magazine across to her with a smirk when she dragged herself to the dining table, and she ignored it of course, like all the other evidence of their public displays. It looked like he had forgotten all about the way his fingers had hovered over her dress, and she was glad.

"Good morning, wife."

She hated the way his voice reverberated in the high-ceilinged room. She hated the way his mouth curved around the word 'wife', as if her life wasn't enough of a mockery of the institution already.

"Husband." She plucked up some toast and buttered it with vigour. "How is your little blonde bird doing?"

He laughed over his coffee, "Who? Estelle?"

No, Bare Spine-girl.

"I have no interest in her name." She smoothed out the clumpy marmalade with a practiced swipe. "Only that she does not get photographed leaving your den of iniquity"

Don't look up. Don't react.

"Don't worry, she knows the rules." He snapped the newspaper shut and unfolded to his full height. He was already dressed for the day.

"Yes, the two of you had me totally convinced," she deadpanned. "Maybe I'm the one who needs to re-read the terms of the third-party clause."

The third-party clause had been instituted after she lost her temper running into Green Eyeliner-girl one time too many in the downstairs kitchen. Clause fifty-seven point three: No nocturnal distractions will appear in the common areas. Also Clause fifty-seven point two: candid photography accidental or otherwise is punishable by death. Or lawsuit. She couldn't quite recall.

She sipped her tea and tilted her chin up as he came towards her, parking his hip beside her bread plate. "I know the contract very well, thank you." He didn't smile but she knew that note of amusement in his voice.

She swallowed. "Of course you know it. You find so many chances to revisit it."

"Is that a hint of jealousy I hear?" For a moment, she thought his eyes dropped to her mouth before he laughed mockingly. "Don't bother reminding me: I know the whole concept – you, jealous – is absurd."

She balled a fist in her lap as one of those society smiles spread over her face. "What's there to be jealous of? I'm fully capable of getting mine without having to run into you along the way."

His raised eyebrow was the picture of nonchalance, but she was pleased to see his eyes narrow.

"You know, there are other fun clauses in that document relating to procreation and offspring." He popped her cream spoon into his mouth, and it was her turn to catch herself in a stare. She hurriedly brought her cup to her lips as he continued lazily, "If you are so interested in the contract, maybe we should spend time going thoroughly over those."

Her next words got caught in a mouthful of tea and she spluttered a mortified cough into her hand.

"My mum wants grand-kids. You've been warned," he added as he pushed away and strolled out of the dining room, but not before stealing a generous bite out of her toast.

She sat un-reacting for a full five heartbeats before fucking civility and yelling down the hallway, "You've NEVER cared what your mother wanted! And it's NOT going to happen, Lancaster! Did you hear me!"

She caught sight of herself in the mirrored wall. Her black hair hung loose and straight about her face, and her eyes were bright with rage. She had to touch her reddened cheeks to remind herself that the woman in the mirror was indeed her.

Damn him.

"And make your own goddamn breakfast, you twat!"

The man didn't affect her. Not a bit.

Distant alarm bells were still ringing in her head (or maybe it was just the sound of her heart beating in her ears), but lucky for her, distractions were aplenty on this fine spring day, distractions enough for her to forget her inner monologue filled with turmoil and self-doubt, as well as keeping her from dwelling on her burgeoning one-year itch. Rei fingered the silverware absently as she flicked at the edge of the tablecloth with her stilettoed foot. She was down to the last items on her checklist. As a newly minted socialite, she took her wealth redistribution duties very seriously, and Mako was late.

"I'm sorry, you must be Ms. Hino."

She looked up quickly, frowning. "That's me, but—" Manners dictated that she stands to greet this brown-eyed man towering over her table, and he shook her outstretched hand firmly. "You're not—"

"Yes, you're expecting Makoto. I am a disappointing substitute." He smiled easily as he dropped into the opposite seat, long legs stretching out.

Rei cocked her head, more confused than ever. "And you are?" she prompted.

He shrugged off his day coat. "It was last minute, and she apologises for not being able to make it today. Nephrite, at your service." Arms bent at the elbows, he clasped his hands before him on the table.

By the fit of his shirt, she suspected he had already made a very good impression with Mako. That girl had been waxing lyrical for some time about some guy with arms like banisters. "Oh, you're Nephrite."

"This is just my hunch but I'm guessing you've heard about me," he winked mischievously.

Oh, I can definitely see it, Mako.

Rei let a genuine smile break on her face. "Uh yes, she mentioned she was working with a new contractor a few months ago. Someone insufferable, I remember her saying," she added a quip of her own, and laughed when he had the good grace to look chagrined. "Can I get you a drink, Mr Nephrite?"

"Please, just Nephrite. And no, thank you." He relaxed back against the seat. "I'll be on transport for the day. I accidentally let Makoto see that I have a fleet of trucks for her to exploit," he pulled a face, "so for the sake of money, I will be sacrificing my day off for charity."

Materials transport – tick. Cheers, girl.

"I'm sure Makoto has plans to make it up to you."

"And I plan to collect." The smooth-talker at least had the decency to blush, as Rei smirked over her notes.

"Here is a preliminary schedule of the night," she slid a manila envelope towards him, "Feel free to make annotations and send it back. Remind Mako to send hers." It was her turn to wink, and he ducked his head again. "We will need the contract signed ideally by—"

"Hello Rei, I did not expect to see you here."

She froze as a hand settled warm and familiar into the space between her shoulder blades. She knew his voice and his smell, and she had only obsessed about that hand a scant fourteen hours prior. His fingertip traced the edge of her neckline, so close to her skin that she held her breath and all she could think about was that he never called her by her name.

"My dear, I thought Makoto was the one on the books this afternoon."

A quick flash of irritation cut through the haze, and she leaned back enough to dislodge the offending limb.

"This is Nephrite, who is meeting me about materials transport for that event next month," she smiled practisedly through her momentary lapse; she must have been a beat too slow, if Nephrite's guarded greeting was anything to go by.

"Yes. Hello," Jadeite nodded back.

This was his Sincere voice, the voice he used when his next sentence was to change the topic entirely, so naturally, she beat him to the punch. "I can manage my schedule just fine, though you are kind to low-key check-up on me," she said sweetly. She smiled apologetically at her new brunet contractor, who shrugged hesitantly.

She stiffened as he suddenly pressed an unbidden kiss to her temple. "I'll see you for dinner then, wife."

By the time she turned to look at him, he was being tailed by two assistants and already on the way to one of the private dining rooms. What the…?

Nephrite was still watching the exchange with a raised brow, and she swallowed thickly before casually waving it off. "We had a fight last night. We're the passive aggressive type of couple, as you can see." It was mostly true.

He whistled. "Makoto mentioned you were married to a dick. I didn't realise it was Jadeite Lancaster though."

Rei rolled her eyes inwardly, and hmmed enough to try to steer the conversation back on track. What was he thinking, making a power play in front of a client like that? He had never given a shit in the past. Plus, he wasn't playing fair. He was supposed to keep his distance and keep his hands and his lips to himself. Rei worried the rim of her cold teacup long after Nephrite had said his goodbyes, long after she'd assessed and re-assessed her to-do-list, but his cologne and the heat of his hand simply refused to dissipate.

This is definitely helping me work out some mental itches. Review and I'll keep them coming ;)

xx