Billionaire Flawed 2(44)

That part still made her mad, and she wasn’t looking forward to meeting Ray’s father. If he would have a problem with his son marrying a black woman, he wasn’t the kind of man she wanted to know.

It was a drive that took almost four hours, and Ray and Danielle didn’t speak much. When they reached Ray’s neighborhood, she had fun gawking at all of the mansions, but nothing could prepare her for her new husband’s home.

He had to stop in front of a gate just off of a quiet street with a lot of privacy hedges and fences. He leaned out through the window and typed in a code on a small pad that sat on an iron pole next to the driveway. When he was done, there was a mechanical squeal, and the gate swung inward, and he drove through.

The gate closed behind them, and the driveway turned to the right. The house was hidden from view by a grove of sorts made up of palm trees, but when they turned again it was revealed, and Danielle felt her mouth fall open in shock. She would be living there for six months, and it was the most amazing house she had ever seen.

The home was huge, three stories and as long as the white house, or, at least, it seemed that way to Danielle. It was a cream color, with darker columns in the front and a short but wide set of stairs which led to the double front doors. Ray pulled the car in front of the home and grinned over to her.

“Welcome home,” he said.

He carried her boxes in, piling them atop one another in his arms, and then he gave her a tour.

There were more rooms than she could keep track of, but she was particularly taken by the backyard, a large chunk of which was given over to an infinity pool, where one side seemed as though it was missing, and a small waterfall fell over that, pooling ten feet down the side of the hill on which the house sat.

“I’ve got to go swimming,” she said, and Ray laughed.

“By all means,” he said, and she hurried to change into her swimsuit.

The first day was spent in the pool, and they even had dinner out there, Ray grilling steaks by the pool while she watched him from the water.

Danielle had conflicting thoughts on the man. The sex had been wonderful, both times, and he was friendly and seemed to really be into her. On the other hand, he had paid her a million dollars to marry him for half a year, so he could make his apparently racist dad angry. She didn’t know how to describe that in any other way than gross.

The next day was one that Danielle was dreading. Ray was going to take her over to his parents home and drop the bombshell news of their marriage to them. She had promised she would never speak to anyone about his proposition, and she intended to keep that promise.

Ray’s parents lived just ten minutes away, in a house which was somehow bigger than his own home was. Danielle had learned that Ray usually had a few friends who lived with him off and on, an entourage of sorts, but he had made it clear to them that he was a married man now, and he and his new wife would need the whole home to themselves. The young woman wondered if it was possible that they would ever need that many rooms for themselves, and found herself wondering the same thing as she stepped into Ray’s parent’s home. She was sure they must rent out fifty or so rooms, that it made no sense for them to live there alone, but she knew that they did. Although, as she stepped inside after her new husband did, she was greeted by a maid, and she had a moment to wonder if the help lived in the house. She realized she didn’t know anything about how the wealthiest people in America lived, and she had a million questions.

Ray and Danielle made their way into a massive living room and sat on a couch. The maid had told Ray that his father was wrapping up a business call, and his mother was out at a tennis lesson. The fact that Ray’s father had his maid greet his own son made Danielle feel bad for Ray. It was as if he was treating him like some sort of employee instead of a son, but if Ray felt bad he was careful not to show it on his face. He smiled when Danielle caught his eye, and he reached over and took her hand.

“Nervous?” he asked, and Danielle nodded. There was no point in lying.

It took ten minutes before Ray’s dad arrived. He was shorter than his son and had a bit of a gut. His hair was gray but thick, and he wore trendy glasses with a small frame.

“Who is this?” he said after shaking his son's hand. Danielle thought of her mother since her father had died before she was born. They always hugged, whether Danielle was gone for months at school, or half an hour down at the grocery store. Ray and his father didn’t have that sort of relationship; that much would have been clear to anyone.

“This is Danielle,” Ray said, and his father shook her hand. If he disliked black people, he didn’t show it in his face, and his smile was warm as he shook her hand. And then Ray went on. “My wife.”