One Night With Mr Braxton

Asher watched his wife with fond eyes. After their little tiff, he couldn’t help but notice they grew closer. Evidently so as she soundlessly slept in the cradle of his arm.

His eyes swept through her face; perfect, everything was made for him. Somehow, his palm, fleetingly found its way to her brows, then her eyes, down to her lips; her soft, silk lips.

Enjoying the privilege of being so close to her, the need to spend more time with her presented itself. Since their marriage, they hadn’t spent time together for the sake of it. They didn’t even get a freaking honeymoon getaway.

Gently, he untangled himself from her hold, ensuring she felt comfortable and deep in sleep while he headed to rectify the situation.

The next morning, Emma woke up to smoldering kisses. Smiling, her eyes fluttered open, and a bare chested Asher graced her sight.

” Get off, I want to sleep.” She complained, already feeling warm at his bold display of affection.

” Get up, we have a flight to catch.” His tone held bouts of excitement, and she sat up at his words.

” What? Right now? Where are we going?”

” Questions. Questions. Answers will come in due time. Tick tock.” He urged, helping her out of bed.

Emma felt happy but kept a residual pout while she readied herself. She had some things on for the day and asked Chara to clear up her appointments; only to find out she was clear for the weekend.

Soon, the couple were in an SUV, bag packed and driving to the airport.

” Still not going to tell me where we are headed?” Emma asked, beholding the jet with Braxton inscriptions.

” Never.” He whispered into her ear, her breath seized for a moment, ” Lady’s first.” He directed her towards the plane, playing the perfect gentleman. Within minutes, they took off.

Emma browsed through the internet, then fell asleep while Asher attended to what she imagined to be important work. But of course Asher stayed present, looking out for her all through their journey.

He was briefed on an event that required his presence, A business conference slash gala which was held annually in the country. The intercom went off, welcoming them to the foreign state and Emma blinked awake.

” Are we there yet?” She asked in a haze. At times like this, he wanted to grab her like a baby she was and whisper sweet nothings into her ears.

” Welcome to Paris, Belle.”

Her eyes narrowed, ” Paris?” She blinked, looked out the window, then with a more definite voice, screamed, ” Paris!”

Emma couldn’t sit still as they sped through the city of love. She sighted the Eiffel tower from a distance and felt giddy inside. Her face remained plastered on her glass like a little child as she took in the city.

As a child, she watched ‘Madeline’ and ever since dreamed of visiting the beautiful city. She viewed the city as home to some of the best creative minds and artists to have walked the planet.

While they drove, Asher watched his wife with curiosity and elation; taking notes of the places her eyes lingered and vowing to return with her for a more explicit view and feel of the city.

Their car drove into a quiet and luxurious neighborhood, then into a beautiful modern house. The automatic gate drew open and they sighted two men, stood beside the house and waiting for their arrival.

” Welcome, Mr and Mrs Braxton.” A heavily accented voice said, ” I’m Gabriel, the housekeeper and this is Martins,” he gestured to the man beside him, ” The chef.”

” Bonjour.” The older man greeted, sporting his pearly whites.

” I’ll give you a tour of the property, just so-”

” Thank you, Mr Gabriel, Martins.” Asher interrupted without care, ” I’ll take it up from here.” His tone was final.

They nodded, ” Have a great stay in Paris.” Gabriel wished, took their luggages inside and left them to their devices.

Emma couldn’t restrain her awe for the building. With Asher, everything was high end, luxurious and stunning. They entered the house and the marble floors sparkled, mirroring their reflection.

Just beside the living room was a dining room which stood beside the kitchen. A glass double door stood opposite the dining, revealing the grandest pool she was privileged to come across.

Asher followed her, deciding to let her lead the tour while having her feel of the house.

” I’m never leaving this house.” She suddenly spoke, eliciting a smirk from her husband. ” I can work here everyday of my life and I won’t run out of inspiration.”

” Are you sure about that?” He inquired, ” I could recreate this exact look in our home back in New York. All you need to do is say the word and it’s done.” His amused look didn’t convince her less of his ability to do just that.

” Tempting, but I’ll pass. I love our home just the way it is.” Emma scrunched at the remembrance of a lady currently sharing their home and didn’t feel so sure she liked the house with her in it.

Fact; her home would be a better place without Rebecca but she wasn’t about to say that out. At least not yet.

” Why does it seem like you aren’t quite sure yourself?”

Of course Asher noticed, he always did: a blessing and a curse.

” I am.” She sported a blinding but false smile, ” let’s check out other places,” A loud growl stopped them halfway and she reduced to an embarrassed mess.

Asher sported a checked brow, ” I think we’ve done enough exploring for a while. I’ll cook.” He stated, guided her to the kitchen stool, then proceeded like one on a mission.

Thirty minutes later, Emma fell in love with the breathtaking meal presented before her. ” You know how to cook.” She stated.

” I’m a man of many skills.”

She couldn’t agree more, ” I want to go on about how delicious it smells and ask for a damn recipe but I’m too hungry to do all that.”

” Good to know. Dig in.”

Asher watched his wife take full spoons of the spaghetti until it was reduced to a bit of nothing.

He took it upon himself and added more to her plate until she shook her head. ” That was…thank you.” She said, lacking proper words to express how beautiful it was.

*****

Late in the afternoon, Asher walked out of the house with a tray of orange juice and glasses. Emma was carving out some designs with her sketch pad by the pool.

” Still busy?”

She turned with a smile, ” Not really. Didn’t realize you were awake.” She took a glass of cold orange juice presented to her.

” I have an appearance for this evening, do you think you could handle being my plus one?”

Emma feigned distress, ” oh dear! I don’t feel like getting my pictures taken or standing beside the world’s most coveted man, the female population would tear me to shreds.”

” Funny. You’re my wife, sweetheart, so that question might as well be rhetoric.” He stated, standing dangerously close to her. ” Get dressed, I picked a perfect outfit.”© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

” I pick my outfits just fine, Mr. Braxton.” Emma said to his face, her tone was curt but he didn’t miss the playful glint in her eyes.

” You know you love it. Don’t you, wifey?” He circled his arm around her waist. ” I’ll be out for a minute. Take your time getting ready. Remember, we are the most important ones.” He whispered, slapped her ass and let go of her.

Emma was a hot mess, his handprint sent shockwaves through her body. Her husband was bold, too bold and her peasant heart couldn’t help but beat at every one of his antics.

Slapping away funny thoughts, she immediately focused on finishing the design with a new found urgency. Whatever the occasion may be, she wanted to look her absolute best and that, unfortunately, in her books took a lot of time.

Over time, she perfected looks that worked for her and often preferred to prepare herself. Her trauma with beauticians were yet to be extinguished, and she preferred doing things herself anyways.

Emma wrapped up her session and immediately began her process of preparation. An hour down the line and a much needed bath later, she entered the closet and spotted a crystal blue dinner gown hanging deliciously off the hamper.

She moved closer, examining its intricate details and its droopy water diamond design which captured her heart. One thing was certain, Asher was one well of a man.

For as long as he was hers.