Part 2I Went on a Blind Date for My Best Friend and Became the Mafia Heir’s Favorite

“Let’s go.”

Gus spoke calmly. “We’re going to the city hall.”

Half an hour later, I sat in Gus’ Rolls-Royce, clutching our marriage certificate.

I still felt like I was floating on a cloud.

How had I, Stella Hayes—a no-name model three months behind on rent and too broke to afford anything but plain toast—become the wife of a man worth $20 billion?

I secretly pinched my thigh.

Ow. That hurt.

I wasn’t dreaming.

I turned to look at Gus beside me.

He had his eyes closed, resting. His profile was sharply defined and cold, radiating an unmistakable stay-away-from-me chill.

He seemed to sense me staring and suddenly opened his eyes.

“What are you looking at?”

I guiltily looked away and gave a nervous laugh. “My new favorite ATM—no, my husband.”

Gus let out a quiet scoff but didn’t respond.

On my first day at the Cooper estate, I made up my mind.

I had to keep Gus happy.

At least long enough to make sure he wouldn’t ask for the $200 million back.

After dinner, Gus went to his study to work on some documents.

I carried in a cup of warm milk and slipped inside as quietly as I could.

“Mr. Cooper, have some milk.”

I set the cup on his desk with an ingratiating smile.

Gus looked up from his papers and fixed his gaze on me.

“People don’t do favors for nothing.”

His tone was mild. “What do you want?”

I immediately shook my head, all noble sincerity.

“I just want to show some concern for my lawful husband.”

Gus gave a soft, derisive laugh and didn’t take the bait.

My eyes darted around, then settled on his legs beneath the blanket.

The comments said his legs would be healed next month. He was recovering now.

“Mr. Cooper, are your legs sore? Want me to give them a massage?”

I didn’t wait for him to refuse. I crouched beside his wheelchair and started massaging his legs.

Gus went rigid.

“Let go.”

His voice dropped, edged with warning.

I ignored him and even pressed a little harder.

“Come on, don’t be shy. I’m sure the doctor said you need regular massages, or your muscles could waste away.”

I kept chattering as I worked my way up from his calves.

Gus’s muscles were firm. Even in the wheelchair, I could feel the strength coiled beneath them.

As I massaged his legs, my hand slipped.

My fingertips brushed the skin high on his thigh, near his groin.

Gus sucked in a sharp breath.

He grabbed my wrist, his grip astonishingly strong.

“Stella Hayes.”

He said my name through clenched teeth, the last syllable trembling almost imperceptibly.

I jumped and looked up at him.

Only then did I notice that his usually icy face had taken on a faint flush.

Even the tips of his ears had turned red.

His deep-set eyes burned with a dark fire I couldn’t understand.

The comments exploded.

[Ahhhhh! Where did she touch him?! What could our precious VIP viewers possibly be forbidden from seeing?!]

[The big shot is blushing! He’s actually blushing!]

[Cold and ruthless on the outside, shy and sensitive underneath. I’m already shipping them over that contrast!]

[That supporting female side character is doing great! Keep flirting with him!]

I swallowed and tried to pull my hand free.

“Um... I didn’t mean to.”

Gus stared at me, his breathing slightly heavier.

After a long moment, he released my wrist and turned his face away.

“Keep going.”

His voice was terribly hoarse.

I froze. “Huh?”

“Weren’t you going to massage my legs?”

He kept a stern expression, but the redness in his ears hadn’t faded. “Continue.”

So, I grudgingly went back to being his unpaid masseuse.

After massaging his legs for half an hour, my arms were so sore I could barely lift them.

While he rested with his eyes closed, I muttered under my breath, “This money is hard to earn.”

The moment the words left my mouth, Gus opened his eyes.

He pulled open a drawer, pinched a black card between two long fingers, and tossed it into my lap.