"We have to start integrating our daily habits, and you need to teach me how to actually act like your husband behind closed doors," I told her while I looked across the wide granite counter.
Freya stared at me for a few long seconds. Her dark eyebrows pulled together in clear confusion, and she crossed her arms over her black business jacket.
"I am a waitress, Mason," Freya reminded me in a dry tone. "I do not teach acting classes, and I have absolutely no idea how a billionaire husband is supposed to act inside his own house."
"I am not asking you to teach me how to be a billionaire," I clarified as I ran a tired hand across the back of my neck. "I know how to run a corporate empire. I know how to read spreadsheets and negotiate contracts. But my uncle knows that I have always lived alone in this massive house. He knows my past relationships with women like Nadia were superficial and cold."
