8.PREPARATION

Luis stared at my reaction for a moment before walking away, muttering under his breath. I remained pensive; this was not just any dinner. I was certain they were coming to verify whether our marriage was a genuine relationship. They surely suspected something and wanted to observe my actions. Notably, they hadn't invited my grandparents—that was good, very good. I needed to think this through, to have an explanation for everything.

I wouldn't be caught off guard so easily; I would prepare thoroughly and shadow Luis's lead. I had noticed how gregarious he became when we socialised with his friends on the yacht parties; he managed those interactions with aplomb, and I simply had to play along. Yes, that would be perfect. Since I had never engaged in the conversations before, it wouldn't raise eyebrows if I remained quiet this time. Nevertheless, I had procured a tourist guide to the most renowned places in Paris from the hotel and committed it to memory, just in case they inquired about any specifics of the locale. I knew my parents, especially my mother, would be inquisitive.

Then I dashed into my room to assess my wardrobe. I needed to embody the role of a married woman convincingly. My mother, with her keen eye, would undoubtedly be scrutinising me, and my mother-in-law would likely be just as observant. After rummaging through, I settled on a black dress with a high neckline that was rather demure. Slipping into it, I saw in the mirror that I indeed resembled a married lady.

Selecting a pair of matching high heels, I hurried to bathe, all the while reciting the information I'd memorised. It was imperative they didn't discern the falsehood of it all; my mother would go to such lengths as to move in and insist we share a bed. The very thought made me shudder—we slept separately, and that was a fact that had to remain hidden.

"Luis, Luis...!"

My voice echoed as I called out to him from the heart of the room. We had to rectify this predicament promptly. In hindsight, I should have foreseen such an event and been prepared. How had it slipped my mind that they might resort to such measures? Fortunately, they had at least forewarned Luis; an unannounced visit would have spelt disaster. With a sense of urgency, I found myself knocking on the door of the master bedroom—the one he had claimed for his own.

"What do you want, Bella?" He peeks out shirtless from the second floor. "I've already told you everything we need to do; can't you give me a moment's peace before they arrive, or must you bellow at me?"

"Come, come down. Help me move some of my clothes into your bedroom, in case they decide to check. I'm certain our mothers will want to have a look."

"I don't think they will," he retorts, turning with the intention of re-entering his room, but I grasp his arm to stop him.

"Yes, Luis, I'm sure my mum will insist!" I plead, noticing his reluctance to descend. "Don't be difficult; just come down for a moment and help me with something. It won't take long, and I promise not to bother you after you've helped."

"You do it! I can't right now; I'm on a call that I can't interrupt, so stop calling me."

He snaps irritably, then turns his back on me and strides into the room. "You bastard, why won't you help me?"

It doesn't matter; I must take action. If they discover we don't share a room, there will be an uproar. I grab a suitcase and fill it with an assortment of my clothes. Panting slightly, I race up the stairs as swiftly as I can, barge into his room, and arrange them in the wardrobe alongside his. My shoes and underwear find a new home in a drawer. Then I dash back to my room for my makeup, toothbrush, and all the other essentials.

“As soon as they're gone, get all that rubbish out of here!” Luis tells me, eyeing the clutter of my belongings invading the room.

“I think we should keep them here just in case. I'm sure Mum will drop by now and then. Don't give me that look; I'm not using the ones I've put out—it's just for show. I have no intention of invading your space if that's what you're worried about. I love my own room, and I detest climbing stairs, in case you've forgotten.”

“Fine, just go already, I have a video call with my girlfriend!” His tone is still laced with impatience, clearly irritated by my presence.

“'This is important, Luis. I'm certain they'll check to see if our marriage is genuine. We have to get this right; remember, your inheritance and my freedom are at stake. OK?' I try to reason with him. 'You spin the yarns and I'll back you up. Luckily, I've brought some brochures of tourist spots in Paris and I've memorised them all, so don't hesitate to tell whatever tales you like—I'll support you. Agreed?”

“Just leave, Bella!' He shouts at me, desperate and furious. 'How can you not realise that I'm naked under this sheet?”

“What?' 'What are you on about?”

“Exactly what you heard. Get out now or I'll expose myself! Unless you fancy joining in on what I'm doing.”

I flee and slam the door behind me. “You pervert! How can he think of such things when we're in the midst of this crisis?”

“You're the worst, Luis!”

“Ha, ha, ha... Don't run away, Bella. If you want, I can teach you—I assure you that you'll have a lot of fun.”

“Go to hell, you idiot! Don't dawdle too long, and make sure you wash properly! You will not touch me with those filthy hands!”

I can't fathom how he can be so nonchalant about his antics with what's looming over us. As I head downstairs, I'm preoccupied with these thoughts. What is going through his mind? I earnestly hope everything pans out; the mere thought of what could happen if we're caught in our lie, especially by Dad, is unbearable. I have this nagging suspicion that he's convinced I married Luis because I've been smitten with him since childhood, as Mum led him to believe, not to salvage his business like she told me.

Granddad mentioned he'd done some digging and doesn't believe the bankruptcy rumours. It's true that there are some financial troubles, but nothing insurmountable, apparently. I've kept mum about it; perhaps the bankruptcy was averted thanks to Luis's family's money—who knows? I'd rather not delve into that. I'm already embroiled in this mess, so I might as well help the sod inherit from his father, and secure my own freedom in the process. The last thing I want is to move back in with my parents. With the mother I have, that would be an absolute nightmare.

That's why this dinner has to be perfect; they must leave thoroughly convinced that Luis and I are faring splendidly. Yet this sham of a husband I'm saddled with is not reviewing what we ought to say. No! Instead, he's indulging in sordid affairs with one of his paramours via video. What a disgrace! Why did it have to be him? He clearly lacks a shred of intelligence; the only thing that seems to matter to him is his world of base desires.

I retreat to my room, which I intend to lock so that no one intrudes. I apply a touch of makeup, sweep my hair into a ponytail, and set about arranging the presents. At least we had the foresight to purchase them. Well, I did, with the driver's assistance, given that Luis had absconded. Let's see if my fastidious mother appreciates the gift I selected for her—a stunning and exorbitantly priced ring, much like the one for my mother-in-law, with the sole distinction being the colour of the diamonds.

With everything in order, I ascend to Luis's room bearing the gifts. I rap on the door cautiously, keen not to interrupt any indiscretions; he hollers for me to enter, announcing he's in the bathroom. Ugh, fortunately, he heeded my advice and is bathing. The thought of him laying a finger on me with those unclean hands is unbearable.

I enter slowly, ensuring the truth of his claim, and cross the room intending to stow the gifts in the wardrobe. Approaching cautiously, aware that he's showering, I knock on the bathroom door and inform him.

“Luis, don't come out in the buff; I'm sorting out the gifts. I'll put the men's on your side of the wardrobe, and the women's on mine.”

“Yours? What do you mean "yours"?”

“It's just a turn of phrase, Luis. Stop acting the fool. I'm speaking plainly so you'll understand, alright? Hurry up, don't dawdle, and dress smartly.'

'Alright, I've got it. Now off with you; I'm about to come out.”

“I'm going, but please don't be long. They're arriving soon and will surely be punctual. I don't want to greet them alone.”

“You've just left, Bella! And spare me the lectures as if you're my mother—or worse, my actual wife!' He shouts, and I see he's about to open the door. 'Leave now unless you fancy a peek!”

I dash outside, close the door behind me, and head downstairs. This man is insufferable. I didn't appreciate the way he looked at me when he arrived. It's imperative he doesn't think I'm hovering around because I'm keen to get close to him. I'm eager for tonight to pass swiftly and without incident. My steps lead me to the terrace to check that everything is in order. The servants regard me with surprise; it's their first glimpse of me attired thus.

“Madam, you look very smart,” Gisela the housekeeper tells me. “You are truly beautiful and elegant.”

“Really? Do I come across as a married woman?” I ask with a hint of uncertainty.