A Deal With The Billionaire, a secret with his enemy

Trisha stepped out of the most luxurious car she had ever ridden in.

Dressed in a red silk designer dress and hat, with sunglasses to match.

“Smile. Everyone's watching.” Lucian said, holding her by the arm and leading her into the conference hall.

Reporters swarmed like bees all around them, their cameras aimed like rifles at them.

‘Don't talk to the media, don't ask questions, and don't answer questions either. You stay on your side of the mansion while performing your wifely duties. Lastly and most importantly, don't ever disobey me.’

He had earlier given her the rules.

Lucian's hand found its way out of her arm and onto her waist.

The sudden movement made Trisha flinch.

The cameras roared to life, taking shots with brutal precision.

“Why the sudden marriage, Mr. Cross?”

“Is she pregnant?”

“Is this just another business deal?”

The questions were endless.

Lucian smiled, compelling Trisha to do the same.

“Our story doesn't have to make sense to anyone. What matters is that we are together and ready to start our lives.” Lucian said, turning his head and placing a small kiss on Trisha's lips.

‘What the—’

“Is this true, ma'am?”

Trisha was still in a daze before realizing the question was meant for her.

“Um…”, Before she could reply, Lucian held her and walked away.

********

Trisha's stomach twisted into knots as Lucian drove them to his family's estate for dinner later that day.

The Cross mansion towered over her, beautiful and terrifying.

Its marble walls were cold enough to turn breath to ice.

Their wealth was lavishly displayed in intricate paintings, massive chandeliers, and silverwares that looked like it cost more than Trisha's entire existence.

Staff bustled in their business. Their movements swift and sharp, like a rehearsed playlet.

Victor Cross, Lucian's father, sat across from them in the enormous glass dining room, his gaze sharp and stoic.

He embodied the effortless elegance of a man who owned empires.

His wife, Lora Cross, was seated beside him, wearing grace and poise like a second skin.

Her eyes glared nonstop at Trisha.

“Women don't seem to know their place these days,” she spoke, still glaring. “You can take the girl out of the slum, but not the slum out of the girl.”

Trisha looked at her. She was so young, probably not very much older than her.

“And some women mistake wealth for class.” Trisha said, almost in a whisper.

The room fell silent.

Lucian's lips twitched in amusement as he looked up at her.

“You're just another social climber who's learned to claw your way up, only faster and dirtier,” Victor Cross seethed, not bothering to hide his disdain. “Just so you know, I don't approve of this marriage.”

He rose abruptly and left the table.

Lora followed him almost immediately, giving Trisha one last glare.

But Trisha had noticed the suspicious glint in Victor's eyes.

The kind that wouldn't let go until they ripped the truth out.

~

Lucian walked Trisha to her wing at the far end of the main building.

“Why did you do that?” She suddenly asked.

“Do what?” His reply was quick.

“Earlier, at the conference. That k…”

“Kiss?” he cut in. “Can't believe you're bothered over that little show,” he retorted.

“That was definitely far from a show. You can't just…”

“Are you standing up to me now, miss?” he said, his eyes narrowing as he moved closer to her.

“I've told you, you don't get to question my actions. Know your place. You play your part, and I'll play mine. Are we clear?”

Trisha looked up at him, and her palms itched to slap off the smug look of anger on his face.

But she knew better.

She lifted her face to his, then breathed, “Of course, sir.”

~

The mansion lay in eerie quietness, save for the chirping of insects outside Trisha's window.

She lay on the exquisite queen-sized bed, rubbing her belly, a gesture that had become instinctive.

Her mind drifted to the earlier conference as she touched her lips where Lucian had kissed her.

It had lasted only a heartbeat, but the weight of it still lingered.

Filling her with dreadful thoughts, thoughts she wouldn't dare name.

Why was he acting so differently all of a sudden?

He’d seemed warm and welcoming at first…

Or so she thought.

A faint sound suddenly jolted her back to reality.

No, not a sound.

Whispers.

She slowly opened the door, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears as Davis's voice floated through the slightly opened door of the adjacent room.

Lucian's personal assistant.

What was he still doing here?

“I doubt she'll last a month,” he whispered. “I'll keep watching them, Elena.”

Elena?

The call ended abruptly.

Trisha slowly jammed her door, praying he hadn't heard.

Her phone suddenly rings, and she quickly moves to reach for it but knocks it down by mistake.

Shit!

She quickly bends over to grab it, little pieces of its broken screen littering the tiled floor.

Her eyes darted to the glass nightstand, as she noticed something unusual.

The tiny blinking of a red light reflecting on the stand.

She bent to look more closely under the bed and her eyes went wide with horror.

A tiny recording camera.

Fitted beneath the bed frame, perfectly hidden.

No one could have easily discovered it.

But she had.

Trisha felt hot and cold at the same time as large beads of sweat slowly formed on her forehead.

How long had it been there?

How much had it seen?

And more importantly…

Who had put it there?

In a flash, she grabbed the nearest object, a jewelry box by her bedside, and hit the camera until it cracked.

Her eyes suddenly turned to the compact wardrobe by her bedside and a chilling thought hit her-

What if that wasn't the only one?

Her phone suddenly buzzed. Startling her further.

One new video.

She clicked it.

And froze.

It was her. Sleeping.

Only then did the realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.

She was being watched.

And whoever it was, wanted her to know.