Unveiling The Cold Billionaire's Secrets

Roselle instinctively tightened the towel on her body, wrapping her hands around herself, in a pathetic attempt to hide however much she could. Nicholas looked unfazed, and tore his eyes away from her.

His tie hung loosely down his shirt, with the first two buttons undone. His hair was a disheveled mess, and Roselle wondered where he had been.

"You're coming with me to a show at five."

His words were brief and his tone, neutral, yet commanding. Roselle was very familiar with the tone, and from her years of experience with her father, she was naturally submissive.

"O..okay," she stuttered.

She wondered why they had separate rooms in his house, but decided against dwelling on the thought.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, before leaving and closing the door behind him.

She stepped into the shower and had a long warm bath, settled into a loose pair of sweats she found in her walk-in closet, and internally debated between taking a long nap and surveying the house.

Stepping outside of her room felt like a crime, but she took her chances. She was scared as she was not accustomed to the building yet, and made her way across the hall and into a maze of passages.

When she realized she was lost, she sat on the ground, knees to her chest and before she knew anything, she found herself sobbing uncontrollably, the reality of things settling heavily.

She had been forced by her father, to marry Nicholas on a whim, earlier that day, and couldn't stand a chance against him, whose authority she was under.

Roselle wondered what life would have been like, if she had a mother. She never saw her. Her father said she had passed, after giving birth to her. She never saw any photos of her, either. She was just an imagination, to her.

Roselle believed her mom would not have let her get married, against her will.

Nicholas Wilson was exactly what the books said. He was the standard of most girls. He stood tall and imposing. His athletic build fit perfectly into the black turtleneck top he had tucked into a black pair of trousers, with a vintage trench coat over it, earlier at the courthouse.

Roselle mind wandered back, when he spared her only but a split second glance, unimpressed. He had seen more beautiful girls, she was sure.

She felt a tap on her shoulder, and lifted her eyes, expecting to see either one of the workers, Miss Cherry the friendly maid, or at the very least, Nicholas. But she was wrong.

She wiped my eyes with the back of her hand, sniffling. He looked so full of concern, as he offered her a hand, but she humbly refused, with a curt nod and a small smile.

This man before her was devastating...handsome. His chiselled features and warm brown eyes stood out. He radiated warmth and a sense of calmness, which was strange.

He had a small scar above his left eyebrow, which gave him a rugged charm. Roselle looked away, catching herself midway. She couldn't acknowledge his looks. She wouldn't. She had a husband.

So she picked herself up, and wiped her back, although there was nothing to wipe. The marble floor was spotless.

"I'll take it that you're my brother's new little wife." He cocked his head to the side, examining her. She suddenly became self conscious, although fully clothed.

Nicholas had a brother?

"Yes, I am," Roselle managed to respond.

He exhaled, lifting his head. "You shouldn't be seen lurking around the corners, don't you think?"

"I was just trying to find my way, I'm sorry," she lowered her gaze to the ground and flinched when she felt his hand slowly lift her chin.

"If there's one thing Nicholas hates, it's a girl who is unsure of what she's worth. Keep your head up," he simply said. "I'm Austin, he said, before walking away."

Roselle stood there, confused and lost, before trying to find her way around, again.

A young worker approached her, she was dressed in a similar uniform as Miss Cherry, the friendly maid she had met on arrival.

"Mr Austin told me you were lost, miss. I'm here to show you around, if you don't mind," she smiled. Roselle nodded, "thank you."

She settled in her bed after the little house tour with the maid, who she got to know was Carla.

The door chimed softly and cracked open as Miss Cherry poked her head through.

"Family lunch in thirty minutes, ma'am. Please put on something - beautiful," she smiled, a nervous look flashing across her sunken eyes.

Quickly, Roselle settled on a sleeveless black dress, which hugged her body, revealing her curves. It was the most decent dress she could find. She put her hair in a ponytail and once she figured she was ready, she gave Miss Cherry a call.

"You look ravishing. They'll love you, I'm sure." Roselle smiled nervously.

"What are they like?" she asked genuinely, fear creeping up her voice. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, and how many people were in Nicholas' family.

"Be careful, not everything is as it seems in this house," Miss Cherry answered in a monotone, leaving the room and instantly filling Roselle with foreboding.

She sat for the next few minutes, waiting for Miss Cherry to come back in and lead her out.

"Are you set?" She asked as she came in, her expression blank.

"I can't say, for sure," Roselle mumbled under her breath.

"You'll be just fine," Miss Cherry smiled, as she led Roselle out, and into the large dining hall.

The table was set with a variety of dishes, and Roselle walked in, realizing that she was the last to take a seat. Her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of everyone who sat around.

On the adjacent ends of the table were a man and woman who Roselle figured were her parents in-laws. Roselle's eyes met the imposing figures of her hosts.

Nicholas' mother, sat at the head of the table, her piercing gaze scrutinizing Roselle from head to toe. Her expression was expert in restrained disdain, her lips pursed into a line and her eyebrows arched. She seemed to be sizing Roselle up, finding her lacking.

Meanwhile, Mr Wilson, Nicholas' father, gave a warm smile, but it came out as forced, his eyes lacking the warmth his lips tried to convey.

"Ah, Roselle, lovely to finally meet you," he said, his tone light, but his voice devoid of any truth. Roselle smiled politely in response.

"Your father has told me so much about you." His gaze drifted away, his attention already wandering, but he tried to conceal it.

Roselle felt like an outsider, as she took her seat on an empty chair beside Nicholas, whose eyes lingered on her for a while, before turning away, as if he hadn't seen her at all.

Miss Cherry's warning echoed in her mind, "Not everything is as it seems in this house." Roselle's heart raced, as she wondered what secrets lay hidden within the Wilsons' polished home.

Across from her was Austin, who smiled warmly, giving her an approving nod.

"How does it feel becoming a member of our family?" Mr Wilson asked, as he took a spoonful of food.

"It's lovely, so far," she answered, avoiding eye contact.

"You are a good look for my son. I'm sure he appreciates you." Roselle's eyes trailed to Nicholas, who ate, mindfully avoiding the conversation.

"Thank you."

While Mrs Wilson carefully watched Roselle's moves and body language, her disgusted look remained etched into her features.

"Have you two had a chance to talk? You know Nicholas, he's constantly working and out of the house. It's a surprise he invited my wife and I over for lunch," Mr Wilson said, with a smile and laughter, which revealed his perfect dentition.

"More like mother made him invite you over," Austin commented, a smirk dancing on his lips.

"If you don't mind, son, I'm trying to get to know my lovely daughter-in-law here," Mr Wilson said, with a forced smile.

"This is a joke," Austin spat.

"What is?" Mrs Wilson questioned, her head cocked, after being quiet for so long.

"It's alright, we'll all just pretend we are one big, happy family," he retorted, his gaze, stone cold, boring into his mother.

"It's best you stay quiet, wouldn't you agree?" Nicholas said in a monotone, his voice low, yet commanding.

"You care the least about family, why pretend now? Don't tell me you're trying to impress your little wife," Austin responded with a sly smile.

"What wife?"

The dining hall immediately went quiet. Roselle's eyes widened, as she lowered her gaze, the humiliation settling heavy.

The Wilson's exchanged knowing glances, not particularly surprised at Nicholas' question.

"That's not a way to speak about your wife, Nicholas," Mr Wilson coaxed, trying to maintain the peace.

"And I should take that advice from you? Father?"

"Listen to your father, Nicholas," Mrs Wilson said, and Nicholas scoffed.

Roselle shifted uncomfortably in her seat, already tensed up by the exchanges.

Mrs Wilson cleared her throat, as she scanned the room.

"Let your brother be, Austin," she stated, with a smile, and a soft voice. "How's the meal, Roselle?"

"It's.. it's amazing," Roselle answered, as she began coughing. Lifting her head, she saw Nicholas sliding a paper towel to her, without as much as looking up at her.

"Thanks," she mumbled, as the coughing fit died down. Nicholas' phone rang, and he got up to leave.

"Two hours," he said to Roselle, before storming out.

The only normal family meals Roselle had ever had were at her best friend, Debbie's house, with her normal family. She made a mental note to give Debbie a call.

Austin got up, and left the table, leaving Roselle with Nicholas' parents who didn't stay much longer before they got up to leave. Not one more word was shared among them.

Roselle sighed, as she was finally left alone at the table. Her stomach churned, so she served herself a generous portion of food, and ate until her plate was cleared.

She got up, and went into her room. She still couldn't shake off the embarrassment she felt by what Nicholas said at lunch.

She sat at her vanity, as a quizzical image of herself stared back at her from the mirror.

Roselle scoffed, as a grin spread out on her face, barely reaching her eyes. She got up and into her closet, searching for the best dress she could find. She knew exactly what she wanted.

Smiling, she pulled the dress off the hanger and set it on the bed, proceeding with her hair and makeup.

About an hour later, she slipped into the dress, which revealed her cleavage and hugged her body, pronouncing her curves.

Miss Cherry came into her room, to lead her outside, where Nicholas waited.

"You look incredible," she said, her hands on her chest for emphasis.

As they made their way out, Roselle was confident in how she looked, and strutted out, but on getting outside, the sight before her caused her jaw to drop.

It was Nicholas, standing beside the car, his eyes fixed on Roselle. But what caught her attention, was not Nicholas.

It was a girl standing next to him, her arm snaked around his shoulders, but he subtly shifted away, his gaze never meeting the girl's, as Roselle approached.

The girl walked away, leaving Roselle and Nicholas. They climbed into the backseat of the car, and the first few minutes were silent, until Nicholas spoke up, breaking it.

"I will not have you give me a bad reputation."

Roselle looked up, confused. She opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it.

"There will be distinguished personalities at the event, and this is what you chose to wear? How pathetic are you, really? Are you that desperate?"

"But, Nicholas –" Roselle started, but her voice betrayed her. It was not in her nature to defend herself.

"Keep my name out of your mouth, and do exactly what you were paid to do," he spat, giving her a contemptuous look, like she was beneath him.

"But I'm not a servant, Nicholas, I am your wife," Roselle said, get voice shaky, as tears threatened to fall.

"You are whatever I say you are."

Roselle stiffened, as her gaze lowered to the ground. The rest of the ride silent, with Nicholas busy on his phone, and Roselle wondering if she was just something he paid for.

They arrived at the venue, shortly after. A red carpet laid, leading into the grand hall, as cameras flashed. Many luxurious cars parked, and affluent men and women flocked, each having a red carpet walk.

Roselle was completely unfazed by the power and affluence which echoed within the space. Her father was wealthy, and she had been to many of such, in the past.

"Smile," Nicholas prodded in a low voice, as he angled his arm for Roselle to take. She slid her manicured hand into the gap, lightly grabbing his arm. Together, they walked the red carpet.

"This way, Mr Nicholas," some reporters called.

"Mrs Nicholas, right," they also called to Roselle, who gave bright smiles, and waved as the cameras flashed in their faces.

As they walked into the hall, the sound of champagne glasses and muted conversations filled the air. Rows of seats were separated by a long runway stretched out.

"Ah! If it isn't Nicholas Wilson," a man beckoned in a hearty voice, walking towards them. "Congratulations on your new collection, you're a true visionary,"

"Julien Freeborn, man of the evening. Congratulations to you too, on your new collection. We look forward to seeing those amazing pieces," Nicholas responded, much to Roselle's surprise. Was was, apparently, the only thing Nicholas was loyal to.

"Your support means a lot to me, Nicholas." He turned to Roselle, "This must be your lovely wife, I presume."

"Yes, this is Roselle," Nicholas responded, his tone indifferent, with a subtle hint of possessiveness.

"She's absolutely stunning. You're a lucky man, Nicholas."

"We'll be around," Nicholas said, as he placed his hand on Roselle's waist, pulling her away. She couldn't help but feel like a mere accessory to him.

They went around, exchanging pleasantries with other wealthy people, and Roselle tagged along, smiling like a puppet.

Everytime she received a compliment, Nicholas would abruptly end the conversation, and pull her away.

After they had settled down, the fashion show began. Julian's models walked the runway, displaying his collection, until the evening was over, and they headed home.

"Never wear something like that, if you're going to be seen anywhere with me," Nicholas spat, without as much as a glance in Roselle's direction.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Once she was back inside her room, Roselle knew immediately what she wanted to do. She sat on her bed for a while, reflecting on her plans and the consequences they could have, but decided it was best. She was leaving.

A friend of her father's owned a hotel downtown. She would head out there and plead with the lady to let her stay the night, while she planned her escape from there.

It was too toxic for her to remain there, so she began packing up, her plan in mind.

After she was done, Roselle took a trip around the house, searching for the positions of the cameras.

"A beautiful kitchen you have here," she forced a smile to a worker, as she glided around the cabinets and island, her eyes searching.

"Thank you, ma'am," the short blonde chef responded, with a wide grin spread across his face.

"There wouldn't happen to be a back exit somewhere around here, would there? I was thinking about a little outdoor stroll to admire the scenery," she lied, making sure to maintain a neutral expression.

"It's right over there, ma'am," he gestured to a large door far behind him.

"You're so kind," Roselle smiled.

"Mr Nicholas wouldn't have you lurking outside in the dark. I might lose my job," he said, his voice laced with worry.

"Don't fret. I'll be back in a minute."

Roselle walked out, through the door, and was immediately greeted by the cold air which slapped against her skin. She shuddered in response, clasping her hands over her body.

She observed the arrangement of the cars and thought it was perfect, so she headed back into the house, through the kitchen.

"Certainly, you wouldn't mind if I made dinner tonight?" She asked the same chef, with a warm smile.

"Please ma'am, Mr Nicholas would kill me," he answered, his tone dripping with trepidation.

"He's my husband. He wouldn't mind," Roselle prodded, "you would most likely get into trouble, for failing to grant my request."

Hesitantly, he made way, standing a few feet from her.

"And I'd like to be alone, if you don't mind."

"But ma'am," he started, but stopped midway, when he saw that she wouldn't budge. He showed her around to where everything was kept, and excused himself.

Roselle was convinced that she only needed her mobile phone. She knew it was a bad idea, but she was willing to try.

After pretending to cook for a few minutes, she disappeared into a blind spot, and stealthily slipped out through the door.

She considered what she was doing for a minute, but decided that it was the only way she could help herself. It had only been a day, yet she was tired.

She saw the chauffeur who drove her home from the courthouse, and walked to him.

"I need a quick ride," she said, and his face set into a frown.

"I haven't received instruction from Mr Nicholas. I'm sorry, ma'am," he apologized with a curt nod.

"You could get in trouble for refusing to grant my request," she prodded with an expressionless gaze.

"I wish I could, but I can't. One thing I can do is ask for permission," he tried to explain.

"My husband is taking his rest. Do you think you'll get away from disturbing his rest? What's your name?"

"I'm Stephen, ma'am."

"Amazing. I'll pay you however much you need. Just take me out of here," Roselle's voice came out as a desperate plea, as she leaned closer into him, standing on her toes to reach him.

"Mr Nicholas pays me enough," he said, and Roselle could see him stifle a laugh.

"Am I funny to you?" She asked, wearing a quizzical look.

"It's just...you don't seem to have done this before."

"Will you, or will you not take me?"

"I'm really sorry," he said with a curt nod, before walking away.

Roselle stood there, wondering what she had been thinking, and how impossible it would be to leave. With resigned fate, she walked around to the pool area, staring at the liquid which illuminated a blue glow in the dim evening light.

She contemplated whether or not she wanted to get in, and after a while, she decided she would.

So she headed back into the house, and changed into a swimsuit, draped a thin towel over herself, and went back out, into the evening.

Roselle sat by the edge of the pool for a while, dipping her feet only, into the cold water as realization dawned on her. There was no leaving this place, no matter how hard she tried.

She knew she was incompetent in planning an escape, which was why she remained a prisoner in her father's house, until she got married...

...into yet, another prison. A defeated sigh escaped her lips, as she let her body slip into the pool. She knew that Nicholas would not change towards her. He despised her, for reasons beyond her comprehension.

She couldn't help, though, but think about the way his hand smoothly glided around her waist at the event, the way he avoided compliments from other men, to her.

Could there have been a burning chance, that he secretly adored her? She let out a heartless laugh, catching herself midway her delusion. There wasn't, even the slimmest of chances, that he adored her. He wouldn't even look at her.

He wouldn't hold her gaze for a full second, without a look of utter disgust. Roselle knew.

She swam across the large pool, allowing the flow of water to distract her from her aching thoughts. She had to make the most of her time in this prison, before both their families eventually decided they were done.

The transaction was over.

Roselle knew that, that was all it was – a mere business transaction. She would wait, until it was over. She only hoped she remained sane, until the end of it.

She ran her hands over her face, sweeping her hair back from it as she took a deep breath, before swimming back to where her towel was.

"Making yourself comfortable, I see." The voice startled her, causing her to gasp rather loudly.

"Did I startle you? My bad," he said with a smirk, as Roselle tried to hide her body underwater.

"We both know that trying to escape on your first night is a terrible idea," he asserted, and Roselle felt her heart drop.

"What...what are you doing here?" Roselle stuttered. He was shirtless, reclining on the pool seat, a glass of wine in hand.

"I didn't think there was a problem with taking a rest by the pool in my brother's house," Austin answered. It was Roselle's third encounter with Nicholas' brother, but she still felt uncomfortable in his presence.

She felt uncomfortable around all of them. Their presence bothered her, but she couldn't complain. She wouldn't.

She restrained her eyes from wandering over his body at all, as she stared at the bottle of wine sitting on the ground instead.

"I didn't mean it like that," she said.

"Amazing," he quipped, "Now, why were you trying to escape? It's your first night with my brother, you should be excited."

"I...I wasn't trying to escape," she lied, keeping her gaze lowered as she floated in the water, her hands on the edge.

"It's okay, I would try to escape, too. My family's clearly dysfunctional," he laughed, but Roselle didn't join him.

"Loosen up," he prodded "Do you want some wine? It'll do you a lot of good," he raised his glass in the air, as the dark liquid moved around in a circular motion.

Roselle eyed the drink for a little while, before looking away.

"I don't bite," Austin said, "here," he stretched out even closer to her.

In the evening lighting, Roselle noticed a gold tooth of Austin's, which stuck out like a sore thumb.

"I can't," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why not?" He leaned back into his seat.

"I don't drink," she simply answered.

"There's absolutely no need to be modest around me. Save that for your husband. Everybody drinks."

She couldn't convince him, so she stayed silent.

"You really don't, do you?" He asked after a while, narrowing his eyes at her, and she shook her head in the negative, slowly feeling the cold creep up her skin. She wanted to get out, but not with him watching.

"Your neck is covered in goosebumps. Considered stepping out of there?" he asked, as if reading her mind. "Nicholas must be waiting for you."

"I – " Roselle started, but the words failed her.

"I'll look away, if that makes you happy," he immediately placed his hands over his eyes and turned around. Roselle smiled to herself as she got out and wrapped herself in the towel.

"I...I'm covered," she said, suppressing a smile.

"Great."

A short moment of silence hovered in the space between them, as Roselle took a seat on the chair next to him. The only sound that could be heard was the soft rippling of the water before them.

"What's your deal?" The question caught Roselle off guard, as a quizzical expression sat on her face. She didn't realize what he was asking her.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, are we playing clueless?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

"Isn't it obvious? You suddenly show up, married to my brother, without a forewarning. Even you would be curious? What was the deal?"

Roselle sighed, her shoulders slumped as she looked everywhere, but at Austin, whose gaze hadn't left her. She hadn't imagined that their conversation would take such a turn.

"Honestly, I'm just as clueless as you are," she shrugged.

"What was it I heard about your family being wealthy? Still no clue?"

"I wouldn't try running away, if I made a conscious deal," Roselle answered, her voice shaky, as she fidgeted with her wet hair.

"So why are you here? Why did you agree to be here in the first place?"

"I didn't. I don't know," she managed to answer, her voice distant.

"How convenient."

They both sat in silence, as Austin emptied his cup. Eventually, he went into the pool, and Roselle couldn't help the relief that came with having someone to talk to, regardless of how their conversation was.

"I think I'll go in now," she said as she got off her seat, tightly holding the towel around her body.

"Have fun," he called after her, followed by splashing of water, as she walked into the house.

As she walked in, Roselle could not shake off the uncomfortable feeling creeping up her skin. It was beyond dysfunctional - Nicholas' family was strange.

She made it into her room, glancing around, before plopping down onto her bed. She knew Nicholas would not come looking for her. She wasn't expecting anything intimate with him, as she was sure he had other girls on the side.

Her mind wandered back to the lady he was with, before they left for the event, and a sigh escaped her lips.

Just as she was about to take a shower, she stumbled on a folded piece of paper, carefully tucked in between the folding in her towel. She looked around, but the room was empty, so she picked it up and opened it, settling on the bed.

"Nothing is as it seems, in this house," it simply read.

Her face creased into a frown. Roselle didn't want any trouble or drama, so she reluctantly set the paper on the bed. But just then, she saw some words scribbled on the flip side of the paper.

Patio, midnight.

The only thing she could decipher, was that the sender wanted to meet with her. She couldn't tell who they were, and why they wanted to help her.

She had her bath, and spent the remaining few hours tossing and turning around, as sleep eluded her.

Roselle couldn't help, but think about the letter. She picked it up from the night stand, and went over it again.

Glancing at the clock, the time read 11:34. She had only a few minutes to decide on whether or not she would go.

In about twenty minutes, she pulled herself off the bed, her heart in her hands as she quietly slipped out of her room. From Carla's tour earlier, she knew where the patio was, and made her way there.

She could see the expansive patio with floor to ceiling windows and doors. Plush chairs surrounded a fire pit. It was cozy. As she was just about to walk in, she got pulled away by the hand.

She gasped as she was face-to-face with her husband, Nicholas. His gaze bore into her, the longest it had ever.

"What are you doing out here, this late?" He asked, his voice low.

"I...I just...the air," she stuttered, her eyes lowering gradually.

"Do not lie to me, Roselle Fitzgerald," he sneered. She lifted her eyes to him, confused.

"I thought I'm Roselle Nicholas now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Save it. Get back into your room, and don't leave unless I say so."

Roselle's eyes trailed down his shirtless frame, and her eyes widened slightly.

"It's just a bit quiet in there," she whispered, hoping he hadn't heard her.

"That shouldn't be a problem to me," he spat, before walking away and leaving her questioning her own morals.

Roselle had always been a shadow of her father's decisions and commands, she never had a word of her own. And now, it was most likely going to be the same way with Nicholas.

Sighing, she took one quick glance around the patio, and on seeing it was empty, she strutted to her room.

He had asked her what she was doing out there, but she never got the chance to ask him. Roselle found herself asking more questions.

It couldn't have been Nicholas who dropped the paper. But he was the only one there.

Was he also going for answers? Roselle thought it was unlikely, as that was his house.

Who and where was this anonymous person?

It was the second time she was receiving the warning about the house in a single day. The first, being Miss Cherry.

Miss Cherry!

It had to be her. Roselle sat up on her bed, and contemplated giving her a call. But she was worried that Miss Cherry might be asleep.

Why was she warning her, and what about? Roselle couldn't tell. Being a maid in the house, meant she knew much more than Roselle, who had spent only a day. But was she to be trusted?

Although she was her personal maid, Roselle discarded the idea of calling her that late, and decided to wait till morning.

As her head hit the pillow, she felt the pull of sleep gradually consuming her, and she allowed herself to be drowned by the soothing feeling.

But just then, she heard her phone's notification sound. So she rubbed her eyes and grabbed her phone, hoping it was Debbie.

But it wasn't.

It was a message from an unknown number, and when she opened it, all traces of sleep from her eyes cleared.

It was a picture.