Never Underestimate The Good Husband

Learning The Arrangement

The first thing Chiara did after I agreed to move into her room was point toward the hallway.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You need to know where everything is.”

“I thought you were giving me a tour.”

“I am.”

She walked ahead of me.

I followed.

The house was even larger than I’d realized the night before. Everything had its place. The furniture was modern, the walls decorated with carefully selected pieces of art, and there was barely a surface without something deliberately arranged on it.

“You really like things organized.”

“I like knowing where things are.”

“Same thing.”

“No. You’d understand if you saw your own room.”

“I don’t have a room here.”

She looked over her shoulder.

“You do now.”

We reached a set of double doors.

Chiara opened them.

I stopped.

“This is your wardrobe?”

She gave me a look.

“Yes.”

The room was enormous.

It wasn’t a wardrobe.

It was a clothing store.

Shelves lined both walls, displaying shoes, bags, watches, folded clothes, accessories and enough outfits to dress a small army.

There was a long island in the center with drawers built into it.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t joke about clothes.”

I walked inside.

“Do you actually wear all of this?”

“Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

She opened one of the drawers.

“Jewelry.”

Another.

“Scarves.”

Another.

“Belts.”

I stared at her.

“You have a drawer for belts?”

“I have several.”

“Of course you do.”

She ignored me.

“This side is casual wear. This section is work clothes. Evening dresses are there. Shoes are along the back wall.”

She pointed toward another section.

“And this is where you’ll keep your things.”

I looked at the tiny empty space she’d left for me.

“That is my entire section?”

“You brought two suitcases.”

“Three, actually.”

“Then you’ll survive.”

I laughed.

She opened another set of doors.

“This is the bathroom.”

The bathroom was almost as large as my old apartment’s living room.

I looked at the enormous bathtub.

“You have a bathtub bigger than my first bedroom.”

“Your standards are low.”

“My standards are realistic.”

She smiled.

Then she opened another door.

“And this is the bedroom.”

I followed her in.

The bed was massive.

There was a sitting area near the windows, two bedside tables, a television mounted on the wall and a balcony overlooking the gardens.

I dropped my bag beside the wardrobe.

“So this is where I’m sleeping.”

“Yes.”

“Your parents are going to love this.”

“They’re not sleeping here.”

“I meant they’re going to believe us.”

She crossed her arms.

“That is the idea.”

I looked around.

“So what’s your side?”

She pointed.

“Left.”

“Mine?”

“Right.”

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re about to say something.”

“I was going to say you seem like someone who would choose the side with the better view.”

“I did.”

I laughed.

She rolled her eyes.

“You’re annoying.”

“And yet you married me.”

“We’re not married yet.”

“Details.”

She walked toward the bathroom.

“I need a shower.”

“Go ahead.”

She stopped at the door.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

“I will.”

She disappeared.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

For a few minutes, I simply stared at the room.

This was ridiculous.

Yesterday, I was living alone in a house that felt empty.

Today, I was standing in a woman’s bedroom, surrounded by her things, preparing to pretend I was her husband.

And somehow, the strangest part was how natural it already felt.

I heard the shower running.

I looked toward the bathroom.

Then immediately looked away.

I wasn’t about to become the kind of man who snooped.

Besides, Chiara had made it clear she had boundaries.

I respected that.

Eventually, the water stopped.

I opened my laptop and began going through my old business files.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened.

Chiara walked out wearing a robe, her hair damp.

She caught me looking up.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re staring.”

“I was checking if you were alive.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“You sound disappointed.”

“Not at all.”

She walked toward the wardrobe.

“I’m going to change.”

“Do I need to leave?”

She looked at me.

“You’re my fiancé.”

“Exactly.”

“So?”

“So I was asking.”

She shook her head.

“You’re very dramatic.”

She disappeared behind the wardrobe doors.

I heard her mutter something I couldn’t make out.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

I smiled.

A few minutes later, she emerged wearing a simple blouse and trousers.

“Better?”

“Very.”

She looked at me.

“That sounded dangerously sincere.”

“I was being sincere.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Get comfortable.”

I closed my laptop.

“Too late.”

She gave me a look.

Then, surprisingly, she smiled

…….

Breakfast was quieter than I expected.

We sat across from each other at the kitchen island.

Chiara scrolled through her phone while I ate.

“You have meetings today?”

“Three.”

“You?”

“I have a shift.”

She looked up.

“A shift?”

“Yes.”

“How many jobs are you doing now?”

“Three.”

She put her phone down.

“Victor.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to do that anymore.”

I kept eating.

“Yes, I do.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

She sighed.

“I can give you the capital today.”

I stopped.

She continued.

“You can quit all three jobs and start rebuilding your company.”

I shook my head.

“No.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“No?”

“I’m not taking money just because we’re getting married.”

“That’s literally the arrangement.”

“No. The arrangement is that you’ll fund my business.”

“Exactly.”

“Once I have a proper structure.”

She stared at me.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I need to know exactly what the money is going toward. Staffing. Equipment. Operations. Marketing. Everything.”

She leaned back.

“Victor, it’s investment capital.”

“I know.”

“Then use it.”

“I will.”

“When?”

“When I’m ready.”

She looked frustrated.

“You’re stubborn.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“You’re turning down an opportunity because of pride.”

“I’m protecting the investment.”

She went quiet.

I looked at her.

“This isn’t a charity case, Chiara.”

Her expression changed.

“I never said it was.”

“I know. But I need to know that too.”

She studied me for a moment.

Then nodded.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Take the day.”

I frowned.

“Take the day?”

“Build your business plan.”

She picked up her coffee.

“You have until tonight.”

I smiled.

“Deal.”

……..

I spent the day rebuilding my future.

Not dreaming.

Planning.

I went through everything I’d done wrong before.

Where I’d overspent.

Where I’d trusted the wrong people.

Where I’d failed to create enough protection around the company.

This time, I wanted structure.

I wanted control.

I wanted something that couldn’t collapse because one partner made a mistake.

By evening, I had a full proposal.

Staffing.

Operations.

Projected revenue.

Risk management.

Expansion.

Everything.

I printed the documents and carried them into the house.

Chiara was sitting in the living room with her laptop.

She looked up.

“You’re back.”

“I am.”

“How was your day?”

“Productive.”

She glanced at the folder in my hand.

“What’s that?”

“My business plan.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“You finished?”

“Yes.”

She closed her laptop.

“Show me.”

I sat beside her.

For the next forty minutes, I walked her through everything.

She asked questions.

I answered them.

She challenged some of my assumptions.

I defended them.

Eventually, she leaned back.

“This is good.”

“Good?”

“Very good.”

I smiled.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I expected you to spend the day sulking about your wife.”

My smile disappeared.

She noticed immediately.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know.”

Silence.

She looked down.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t.”

I closed the folder.

“I don’t want to talk about Tasha.”

“Okay.”

“I want to talk about my business.”

“Then let’s talk about it.”

I turned toward her.

“We need to agree on something.”

“What?”

“When you invest, you don’t control everything.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Excuse me?”

“This is my company.”

“And my money.”

“Exactly.”

“So?”

“So I need creative control.”

She stared at me.

“You’re already negotiating.”

“I’m protecting what I’m building.”

“And if I disagree?”

“Then we discuss it.”

“And if I still disagree?”

“We find a compromise.”

She smiled faintly.

“You really think marriage is going to work like a board meeting?”

“No.”

“Good.”

She shifted closer.

“Because I’m not your investor right now.”

“I know.”

“I’m your fiancée.”

“I know.”

“And you need to remember that.”

Something about the way she said it made the room feel smaller.

I looked into her eyes.

“I haven’t forgotten.”

Neither of us moved.

She was close.

Too close.

I could feel her breathing.

Her eyes dropped briefly to my lips.

Mine did the same.

Neither of us seemed willing to look away.

“Victor…”

“Yeah?”

“I think we’re making a mistake.”

“Probably.”

She didn’t move.

“Then why aren’t you moving?”

“Why aren’t you?”

Silence.

We were inches apart.

My hand rested beside hers on the couch.

Her fingers slowly moved closer.

Our shoulders touched.

She leaned in slightly.

I did too.

And then—

Knock.

We both froze.

Another knock.

Chiara pulled away immediately.

“Who is that?”

“I don’t know.”

She stood, smoothing her clothes.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Neither was I.”

She walked toward the door.

I followed.

The moment she opened it, a woman stood there holding a handbag and wearing a grin far too confident for someone who had just interrupted what had almost happened.

“Finally!”

Chiara’s face fell.

“Oh, no.”

The woman stepped inside.

Then she looked at me.

Then back at Chiara.

Then at me again.

Her smile grew.

“Oh.”

Chiara closed her eyes.

“Please don’t.”

The woman laughed.

“So this is him.”

I looked at Chiara.

She looked mortified.

“Victor,” she said reluctantly, “this is my best friend.”

The woman extended her hand.

“I’m Maya.”

I shook it.

“Victor.”

Maya glanced between us.

Then she looked at Chiara.

“You were going to tell me about the fiancé?”

Chiara sighed.

“I was.”

Maya’s eyes widened.

“Wait.”

She looked at me again.

“You’re actually getting married?”

I smiled.

“Apparently.”

Maya slowly turned toward Chiara.

“Oh, we have a lot to talk about.”

Chiara groaned.

I couldn’t help laughing.

For the first time that day, the tension disappeared.

But as Maya walked into the house, I caught Chiara’s eye.

The look she gave me said one thing clearly.

This is going to be a long night.