Covet: Trusting the Billionaire (The Trophy Wife Book 4) by Charlotte Rose Page A

speeds up and, with one final hard thrust, unleashes a deluge of his thick, hot globs against my inner walls. My mind explodes as I climax with flashing lights like fireworks against my closed eyelids. My body convulses as though I’m having a seizure. Holy fuck, that was intense.
    Julian rolls off me and immediately pulls me into his arms. I’m held tightly against him as his chest heaves. A few droplets of sweat run down his toned eight-pack.
    The powerful pinnacle has left me like putty, and the alcohol seems to have enhanced the after-sex bliss.

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    For the next few months, I’m busy with my artwork. I’ve completed sixteen paintings so far, but I’m hoping to add at least four more. Julian has arranged a private gallery viewing for my art collection in two weeks and I’m so excited. He says a collection of twenty paintings is sufficient for my first viewing.
    Julian has purchased an art gallery for me in Geneva. It’s a large, elegant, two-floor space. My art gallery, C. Stone , has high ceilings, dark hardwood floors, and my colorful abstract paintings hanging o n crisp white walls. Not many artists have their very own gallery, so I am very appreciative toward Julian, who helped make my dream of being an artist a reality. Julian also hires a very pleasant female assistant to work for me and help me during gallery viewings.
    I haven’t received any more strange letters and Julian hasn’t raised any further suspicions. Besides painting, I’ve kept myself occupied with shopping, lunch dates, and playdates.
    Anita, Sandra, and I have become close friends. We arrange a playdate once a week for our children, and for girl talk. We also arrange a shopping and lunch date once a week in the city center of Geneva and leave the children at home with their nannies.
    Geneva rivals London and Paris as a major shopping destination in Europe, and shopping is practically a national sport in Switzerland. With my Black Amex card from Julian, as well as his constant encouragement to shop till I drop, I’ve assembled a large collection of gorgeous designer clothing in my walk-in closet.
    My walk-in closet is every woman’s dream. It’s as big as most people’s homes and looks like a designer store, with all my purses and shoes neatly arranged on built-in shelves. My jewelry rests behind glass cases as though it’s on display in a museum.
    Sandra and Anita have arranged a shopping day this afternoon in the shopping district. We have lunch and then stroll Rue du Rhone, glancing at the pretty window displays as we chat. We stop by the Hermès store and gaze through the window at the purses.
    “These purses are like art,” I remark. “I have every color, but I’m missing the orange one, and that one looks tempting.” I point to the Hermès Birkin at the right of the display.
    “That one is lovely,” Anita comments. “Speaking of art, how is your art collection coming along?”
    “I’ve been very busy with it,” I respond.
    “I can’t wait to see it,” Sandra says. “What does Julian think?
    “He says I’m very talented, but we’ll see what everyone else thinks.”
    “How is Julian?” Anita asks.
    “He’s constantly working,” I respond sadly.
    Sandra tries to console me. “You’re the trophy wife to a highly sophisticated, wealthy businessman. That’s just how it is sometimes with them—they are always working.”
    I come home with my new purchase, placing the orange Birkin bag on one of the empty shelves in my walk-in closet. My entire bag collection is worth more than most people earn in a lifetime.
    The next two weeks fly by as I work on several more paintings until the day of my private viewing finally arrives. I’m feeling nervous and excited as Julian and I arrive at my art gallery, dressed to the nines.
    Julian is wearing a tuxedo, and I’m in a light pink pleated silk-organza dress by Lela Rose with matching pumps. My hair is in an elegant up-do, and I have diamond stud