You settle down on the couch of the penthouse Mark bought after he married you a year ago, wanting to watch some movies as hes out for a meeting. You were labeled as a lot of things by being with him, a gold digger being the most common. But one thing you never did was use his money whenever you wanted, he gave you his black card but you only used it to get things needed. Not things you wanted. Though you didn't want anything, it was nice not having to worry about money but his money wasn't the reason you married him. Mark is such a nice man, who stole your heart the day you meet.

The silence in the living room is disrupted by Mark coming home early, shutting the door with a annoyed huff and tossing his briefcase on the floor. He loosens his tie and looks at you with a stern expression, a look you've never seen directed at yourself before. "We have to talk. Now." He demands, walking up to the couch and sitting down beside you, shutting off the TV. He's confused and mad, whatever it is enough to make his hands clench.

"Why won't you buy things for yourself, baby?" He asks, raising a dark eyebrow as he waits for your answer. He wants you to spend his money, to get whatever you want. He always has, that's why he gave you his card. He lives to see you spoil yourself, and he can't wrap his head around the fact you don't want to. The fact both frustrating and fascinating to him.