"Is this everything?"
In an apartment in the Westwood district, Matthew picked up a suitcase and took a bag from Margot Robbie's hand.
"Yep, that's all," Margot replied, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, putting on sunglasses, and picking up one last bag. "Let's go."
The two walked out of the apartment, one after the other. Before closing the door, Margot glanced inside one last time. She had lived there for nearly three years and felt a touch of nostalgia.
Matthew patted her shoulder. "Let's go, Mary."
Margot nodded lightly, closed the door, and followed Matthew toward the elevator without looking back.
Having agreed to move in with him, she felt no hesitation or regret.
When they reached the ground floor, Matthew stepped out of the elevator first. His car was parked right outside, and the driver immediately came to help with the luggage, placing it in the trunk.
Matthew turned to take the bags Margot was holding and noticed several reporters in the distance, snapping photos of them. He continued loading the trunk as if they didn't exist.
"There are paparazzi," Margot whispered.
"Just ignore them," Matthew said as he placed the bags in the car.
Margot nodded. She found Matthew's recent approach to handling the press unusually comforting. He didn't go out of his way to dodge reporters, nor did he flaunt their relationship publicly. Instead, he treated their interactions naturally, as if they were just an ordinary couple.
Everything felt so genuine, and it reassured her that Matthew truly valued their relationship.
As Margot climbed into the car, she saw at least seven or eight photographers outside, their cameras clicking away.
This didn't surprise her. She had been mentally prepared for it—becoming an actor meant giving up a quiet life.
People who craved privacy wouldn't choose to become celebrities.
Matthew entered the car, shut the door, and instructed the driver, "To the estate." Turning to Margot, he added, "Check if there's anything you're missing. We can go shopping this afternoon if needed."
"I've brought everything I need," Margot replied. "You're busy these days. If I need anything, I can go get it myself."
Matthew, familiar with her straightforward nature, didn't argue. "Alright. Once this busy period is over, let's take a vacation."
His phone rang suddenly. Matthew glanced at the screen—it was Abby Hornacek calling.
He thought for a moment before answering, "Hello, this is Matthew Horne."
"Hi, Matthew," came a familiar voice. "Do you remember me? This is Abby."
She clarified, "Abby Hornacek, from the USC School of Journalism."
"Yes, I remember," Matthew said evenly. "What's the matter?"
Abby's voice was enthusiastic. "You mentioned visiting USC a while back. I wanted to ask when you'd be coming. I'd love to show you around."
Matthew glanced at Margot, maintaining a composed demeanor. This had happened before they started dating, after all. "I've been very busy lately," he replied. "I'll let you know next time I visit USC."
Abby sounded slightly disappointed. "Oh, okay. Call me when you plan to come."
Matthew exchanged a few more polite words before hanging up.
Margot glanced at him, curious but ultimately choosing not to ask. She understood that sometimes it was better to feign ignorance.
After all, Matthew's past was hardly a secret—his personal life had been as tumultuous as Leonardo DiCaprio's.
Margot reminded herself to focus on the present rather than dwell on the past. If she let herself get hung up on old issues, she'd be too miserable to enjoy anything.
The black Mercedes van soon arrived at Beverly Hills, driving through quiet streets before turning into the gates of a sprawling estate.
Margot observed the estate as the car passed through, but she wasn't overly impressed. Despite its size, it didn't seem as expansive as her family's farm in Dalby.
"This house has been mine for nearly a decade," Matthew explained briefly. "The location is excellent."
Margot nodded, aware of Beverly Hills' reputation in real estate. A property of this size in this area would easily cost $70–80 million.
The car stopped in front of the villa. Matthew grabbed the luggage and led Margot to the master bedroom on the second floor.
"This is lovely," Margot said as she placed her bags down and stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the view. "You can see most of Beverly Hills from here."
Matthew joined her, pointing to a cluster of tall buildings in the distance. "That's Century City. My studio's office is in the second-tallest tower from the left."
"Your Thirteen Studio?" Margot asked curiously.
Matthew poured two glasses of water, handing one to her. "It started in Burbank but later moved to Century City."
After finishing his water, he said, "Let me show you around."
Margot, visiting for the first time, was naturally intrigued. "Sure!"
They began with a tour of the gardens, the front lawn, and the tennis courts before heading inside to explore the library and the underground wine cellar.
Matthew drank occasionally but wasn't a heavy drinker like Johnny Depp, so most of the wine racks were empty.
On their way back to the living room, Margot noticed a room with a metal door equipped with a fingerprint scanner. She asked curiously, "Is that a safe?"
The door's reinforced appearance and advanced lock system clearly indicated the room wasn't ordinary.
"Want to see it?" Matthew asked, approaching the scanner.
The room housed a "game room" he had built over the past two years, a project that had cost him both time and money.
"Not if it's inconvenient," Margot replied, though her curiosity was evident.
Matthew scanned his fingerprint, and the metal door slowly opened. "There are some unusual things inside. Don't be surprised when you see them."
Margot followed him in, her quick tongue betraying her intrigue. "What could possibly surprise me?"
As she stepped inside, the contents of the room left her stunned.
In the center hung two metal rings from the ceiling, resembling gymnastic equipment but set at a height where she could barely touch the floor if she held onto them.
To the left of the rings was a leather-padded cross with metal restraints, while on the right stood an intricately designed structure she couldn't immediately identify.
Though not naive, Margot quickly deduced the purpose of these items.
She turned to the walls, where glass cabinets displayed an array of tools—some she recognized, others she could only imagine the uses for.
Matthew, you perverted bastard, she thought, her gaze lingering on a white candle and a black whip. Does he really indulge in this stuff?
"Some people are into unique activities," Matthew said matter-of-factly. "I got curious and built a game room."
Margot looked at him sharply. "You're not expecting me to join you in this, are you?"
Matthew shook his head. "Never. I've never forced anyone to do anything." He gestured to the equipment. "I can have it all taken down if you'd like."
Margot hesitated before saying, "No, leave it. Who knows? Maybe someday we'll want to try something different."
Hearing this, Matthew pulled her into his arms. "Why not start now?"
Caught up in the moment, the two gave in to their passion, embracing their fiery chemistry.
By midday, they emerged from the room, showered and changed in the upstairs bedroom, then had lunch in the dining room.
Afterward, Matthew drove Margot to Rodeo Drive to pick up some household essentials.
"You didn't need to drive me," Margot said, fastening her seatbelt in the passenger seat.
"I'm free this afternoon. I won't have time tomorrow," Matthew explained.
As they turned onto the main road, he opened the glove compartment and handed her a set of Mercedes keys. "These are for the cars in the garage. My contracts require them all to be Mercedes, mostly SUVs and sedans. Let me know if any catch your eye."
Margot took the keys without hesitation. "I like SUVs. I'll borrow your G-Wagon for a few weeks until I get a new car."
"Whatever works for you," Matthew replied, unconcerned.
All the vehicles were provided by Mercedes-Benz as part of his endorsement deal. As for Margot buying a new car, Matthew saw no need to interfere—she could easily afford a nice one.
Before they reached Rodeo Drive, Matthew's phone rang again. This time it was Ronan Farrow.
Matthew immediately pulled over, took the call, and spoke for a moment before turning to Margot. "Sorry, darling. Something urgent has come up. I can't join you."
Margot nodded. "Go take care of it. I'll be fine on my own."
_________________________
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! $5 for all!!]
[w w w . p a t r e o n .com / INNIT]
[+100 PowerStones = +1 Chapter] [+5 Reviews = +1 Chapter]