I stare at my phone. He should be drowning in meetings by now, smiling for cameras, shaking hands, doing things presidents do. Would it have been smarter to ask him in person?
A minute ticks by.
I send another message.
[It's okay if you can tell me later, if you're busy.]
I place the phone beside my plate and sip my warm milk. The dining room is too quiet, and the clink of my spoon against the bowl echoes like I'm having breakfast inside a cathedral.
I'm nearly finished when my screen lights up.
[It will be a real marriage. We will also have a wedding.]
I freeze. A real marriage. A wedding. My mind scrambles, chasing the implications.
For a public figure like him, it makes sense. It would be complicated later if people discovered the marriage isn't registered.
Still… if we marry for real, that means there will be a divorce later. Surely?
[When will we get a divorce if we marry?]
His reply arrives almost instantly.
[We will discuss that once you tell me your decision.]
I blink at the screen. Huh?
[What? Shouldn't I know how long you want this marriage to last before I decide? I need to know at least some details.]
This time, the silence stretches.
Until I realize he isn't going to respond anytime soon.
I leave the dining room. Fresh air greets me as I step outside, soft and cool against my skin. The estate's lawn is impossibly vast. A lone gardener bends over a hedge in the distance, shears clicking rhythmically.
Beyond that, the driveway stretches so far it might as well lead to another continent, flanked by sprawling land that easily passes for a private golf course.
Movement catches my eye. Two horses being led by a man on the western side of the property.
My yellow dress flutters around my legs as I walk toward them. I've braided my hair into one long plait draped over my shoulder, with my curtain bangs framing my face just right. The sky is cloudy, the sun peeking through in shy, diluted rays.
"Hello!" I call out.
The man holding the reins turns. He's middle-aged, sun-browned, with friendly eyes that widen in recognition.
"Hi! You must be Mr. Brandt's guest."
"Yes." I smile. "I got curious about the horses. They look… different. Bigger than usual. Are they owned by the Brandts?"
"They are," he says proudly. "I'm Rico, the stableman. These two are imported, foreign breeds."
Ah. That explains the elegant build, the sleek coats, the almost aristocratic posture. These aren't the regular horses you see being rented for five minutes on some dusty beach. These are the equine equivalent of luxury cars.
"Do you ride, Miss?" Rico asks.
"Well, I've tried a few times, but always with guidance." I laugh softly. "But I've always liked horses."
He gestures toward the brown stallion. "Would you like to try Nero? He's tame. I'll guide you."
Honestly, how could I refuse? Boredom has been gnawing at me since the moment I woke up.
This mansion is beautiful, yes, but it's also quiet, cavernous, and staffed by people who vanish like ghosts whenever I turn a corner. The guards patrolling the property look like they'd sooner escort me to a bunker than chat about the weather.
Rico, at least, looks approachable.
I let him help me mount Nero. The saddle feels familiar beneath me, and following his instructions comes naturally. It's been years since I last rode with my father at his old polo club, but I still know the basics.
Time blurs.
I don't even notice when Rico pulls his hand away from the reins and lets me take full control. The land is flat, free of rough terrain, and Nero is gentle enough that even someone rusty like me can manage.
Before I know it, I'm riding freely across the vast property, my braid whipping behind me, my laughter swallowed by the open air.
For the first time in days…
I feel light.
The sky has dimmed by the time I finally lift my gaze. It isn't sunset yet, but the clouds overhead have thickened into a heavy gray ceiling. A storm is brewing it seems. I've been gone from the mansion for hours, blissfully unaware.
Just as I turn Nero around to head back, the sky splits open.
Rain sheets down in an instant, cold and sharp. The stable is too far to reach without getting soaked, so I guide Nero toward the small gazebo nearby. By the time I duck under the roof, the downpour has become a full assault.
With the exhaustion settling into my bones after hours of riding, my eyes grow heavy. I stretch out on the bench, just to rest. Just for a minute.
The next time I open my eyes, the world outside is dark.
I jolt upright. The rain has stopped, but the sun is long gone.
I look out of the gazebo and see the horse is nowhere in sight. Where did Nero go? I left him right outside. Did he walk back on his own?
I sigh. Nero must not want to miss dinner.
With nothing else to do, I decide to just walk. I barely take two steps before I notice a silhouette approaching.
"What are you doing here?"
The president's voice is cold, his frown carved deep.
Oh. Great.
"You're here," I say, trying for a bright smile as I smooth the wrinkles out of my damp dress. "Did you just arrive? Sorry, I fell asleep in the gazebo while waiting for the rain to stop."
His eyes narrow, unimpressed. The displeasure dripping off him could fill another raincloud.
"Were you looking for me?" I ask, sheepish now. "I'm really sorry. I had too much fun riding one of your horses."
"You made the people in the mansion worry," he says flatly. "They were looking for you because you were gone for hours."
"Oh." Guilt prickles behind my ribs. "But… I didn't leave the residence. I stayed within the premises."
The look he gives me could wither a whole forest. Right. The staff must have been instructed to keep an eye on me, and I strolled off like a carefree tourist and disappeared behind the horizon. Wonderful.
"It's not good for a lady to fall asleep in random places," he says. His tone treats my nap as if it were an act of reckless endangerment.
I am still inside a heavily guarded, security-obsessed estate, but something tells me now is not the moment to point that out. I press my lips together and nod.
When we step back into the mansion, dinner is already plated, warm, and waiting.
We sit. The servants slip away, leaving us alone at the long table.
"Did Nero return to the stable safely?" I ask while cutting my food into tiny, unnecessarily polite squares.
"Yes."
Relief floods me. I really didn't want Rico getting scolded because his horse got lost somewhere.
The quiet stretches until Mr. Brandt finally speaks again.
"So," he says, eyes fixed on me, unreadable. "What is your decision?"