Читать книгу Guarding His Royal Bride - C.J. Miller - Страница 11
ОглавлениеDemetrius couldn’t give Iliana time to think. He was banking on her agreeing to marry him immediately. Sated by the passion and excitement of their encounter, she’d fallen asleep beneath him. He extracted himself from her. After cleaning himself up in the bathroom, he dressed.
He could read her. She wasn’t a poker player. She was falling for him. He reached into his bedside table and brought out the gray-and-black marble ring box. He’d had the ring commissioned earlier that week and sized to her finger. She’d left a ring on her desk once and he’d traced it onto a piece of paper when her back was turned. She wouldn’t want to be proposed to in bed. She’d want a story to tell her cousin and her friends.
He slipped the engagement ring into his pocket. This would happen today. By tomorrow, she would be his wife and he would have what he needed to complete his plan.
He picked up his dress shirt from the floor and carried it to the bed. Sweeping her red hair to the side, he kissed her cheek. “Iliana? I want to show you something.”
She mumbled into the pillow. Into his pillow. That pleased him enormously. He rarely allowed women into his bedroom. Come to think of it, Iliana was the first. The first and the last. She moved down into the blankets, her red hair spread across his sheets, the fabric showcasing the silhouette of her lithe body.
“This will only take a moment. It can’t wait.”
She sat up, pushing her hair back. “Why do I have to get up now?”
He slipped his shirt over her slim shoulders. For the sake of decency, he buttoned the middle buttons. She looked good. She would be a good wife—of that he was certain. “I have something to show you.”
“Interesting that you want to dress me,” she said.
“I don’t like the idea of my staff seeing you naked.”
Though his staff members would not utter a word about anything they saw in the house, especially in his private wing, he was protective of Iliana. He didn’t want to share her in any way.
She pulled on her underwear, the green pair, and her slacks. She left her feet bare.
Demetrius led her outside into the garden. It needed attention, but that task had fallen behind more pressing matters. His private garden was still tended to perfection. He unlocked the green wooden gate. He had refinished the gate himself, sanded it, painted it and rehung it. Though he could have asked someone on his staff to handle the matter, physical labor helped him clear his mind after hours of meetings. The high stone walls around the garden provided the privacy he craved.
He held the door for her, and she stepped inside and gasped.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“My garden. I work here in my spare time.” A source of pride and enjoyment for him.
He took pleasure in watching her walk up and down the paths. Solar lights illuminated the rows of plants and shrubbery. He walked behind her, not wanting to rush her. The timing had to be right. Much was riding on this proposal.
She had said she wanted to be swept away. He had to give her what she needed. Having her in his bed had been every bit the sublime experience he had imagined. She was responsive and active and made the most fantastic noises when she came.
“I wouldn’t have guessed you would spend time on a garden,” Iliana said.
A solitary activity that involved using his hands. In that way, it was ideal. “It’s a productive garden. I grow food here for myself and my staff.” Growing up poor, he, his brother and his mother had kept a garden, eating what they could, selling produce to neighbors. Their poverty had made Demetrius resourceful. He and his brother had often made sacrifices for each other and their mother.
She smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”
He didn’t want to talk about himself or his childhood. Iliana had been raised by perfectly warm and loving parents. His experiences had been different. “Looking at you takes my breath away.”
She lowered her head, but he saw the blush on her cheeks. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“We are alone here. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I’ve made how I feel about you clear.”
She stepped closer, and his hands greedily reached for her.
“You fascinate me,” she said.
That he had captured Iliana’s interest for even this long felt like an accomplishment. Demetrius planned everything in his life. Everything. He did nothing without thinking, considering and weighing his options. But he didn’t know exactly what he would say to win her over or how he would say it. He went with what felt right.
He fell to his knee in front of this beautiful, captivating woman. He took her hands in his. He kissed her wrists and then held her left hand, threading their fingers.
Why did he feel emotional about this? This was a calculated, crucial part of his plan, yet he was caught up in it and in her. “Iliana, I have been enchanted with you from the moment we first spoke. I admire your fire and passion for life. You’ve come to mean so much to me.”
He removed the ring from his pocket and held it for her to see. She gasped and brought her hands to her mouth. He reached for her hands again, putting them in his where they belonged. “Iliana, will you be there for me in the ways that matter? Will you sleep in my bed and wake beside me in the morning? Will you be my friend and my lover and my confidante? Will you be my wife?”
Surprise registered on her face. “Why me? We don’t know each other.”
He shook his head. “I know everything I need to know about you. There won’t be another in my life who means to me what you do.”
She brought her hands to her mouth and then threw herself into his arms. He wrapped them around her. She kissed his cheek. “Yes, yes, I will marry you.” Tears ran down her face.
He slipped the ring on her finger. “Tonight. We marry tonight.”
Her smile faltered. “Tonight? Are you serious?”
“I cannot wait another day to have you as my wife.”
She stared at him. “You are serious.”
“Of course. I will not joke about our marriage.”
“But I have plans for my wedding. I want Serena to be there. And Casimir. I wanted to wear a special dress and carry lilies.”
If he gave her too much time to think about it, she could change her mind. The chess pieces could shift, rendering his position weaker. He had to marry her now, before she knew more about his plans and her future. “My Iliana, you will have everything you wish for your wedding. A few phone calls will make it so.” He had a country of wedding planners, florists and dressmakers at his disposal. He would do what was needed to get her to the altar. If she wanted the wedding of her dreams, so be it.
She nodded and seemed to be half convinced. “I need to call Serena, then.”
Demetrius remained calm. The queen could talk her cousin out of this arrangement. Had he convinced Serena that his intentions were good? Casimir was his brother on the battlefield, but Demetrius hadn’t shared with him the reasons why Iliana was critical or why he needed to marry her. Demetrius’s biological brother needed his help, and nothing would stop him from providing it. “Please do. I will contact our event planner and have her come to the house immediately.”
Pleased that this part of his plan had worked, he felt unsettled by the unfamiliar sensation of warmth that spread over him. Iliana would be his wife, and he would respect and honor her. But had he come to care for her? That had not been part of the plan.
* * *
Serena rushed to Iliana, hugging her close, a challenge with her ever-growing pregnant belly. Serena was expecting twins in five months. “Iliana, are you sure about this? This seems so sudden.”
“It seems that way for me, too. But it also feels right.” Demetrius had said the right things, he had treated her as if she was precious to him and he had given her carte blanche to plan the wedding, with the caveat that it had to be tonight. Many women would be envious of her position. She almost couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Demetrius was an honorable man and would be a good husband.
“Why so fast? Are you pregnant?” Serena asked, her lips quirked into a smile.
Iliana laughed. “Not pregnant. My mother and father were taken from me abruptly, and now Demetrius is giving me a new family as suddenly. Maybe that’s how my life works.” She wouldn’t kick a gift horse in the mouth.
“You’ve been tight-lipped about your relationship with Demetrius, but if this is what you want, I support you.”
The event planner, a powerhouse named Eleni, rushed into the room carrying a wedding gown in a light blue garment bag. “I had to pull every string to get this dress in your size, but it’s here. The seamstress is on her way to make adjustments.”
Eleni hung the garment on a dress hook and removed the light blue bag. It was a dress Iliana had seen months earlier when shopping for another friend’s wedding. It was simple and elegant, all flowing satin covered in lace. The top was fitted, and the skirt flared at the bottom.
Eleni and Serena helped her slip it on. Iliana was worried it wouldn’t be as beautiful as she had pictured when she saw it on the mannequin. When the final button was fastened, she turned and caught her reflection in the mirror. Breathtaking. It was what she had hoped for. Demetrius was making her wedding dreams come true. She was still reeling at how quickly it was moving, but why question good fortune?
Serena teared up beside her. “Oh, Iliana, you look so beautiful. Demetrius won’t be able to catch his breath.”
The next hour was a flurry of activity. The seamstress measured, pinned and sewed. Iliana’s hair was arranged, some gathered on her head, other pieces left over her shoulder, and light makeup was applied. Before she had time to think, Serena was leading her to the private garden where she would marry the president of Icarus.
“You know he isn’t the bad person that people say he is, right?” Iliana said quietly to her cousin. She needed her good friend to assure her that she was seeing Demetrius for who he was, as he was, and that this wasn’t a mistake.
Serena squeezed her hand. “Casimir tells me that Demetrius is a good man. I questioned him the entire flight here.”
“Demetrius is wonderful to me.” Despite rumors and media spin portraying Demetrius as a dictator and a tyrant, Iliana saw the real side of him, the warmth, the compassion and his absolute love for Icarus. Everything he did was for his country and, now it seemed, for her. They’d had misunderstandings in the past, butted heads politically, but this was different. Their relationship wasn’t professional anymore. It was on a whole other level.
Casmir came to the garden door and greeted them, kissing Serena’s cheek and patting her belly.
Iliana curtsied to the king of Rizari, out of habit more than a required formality. “I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?”
Despite his royal status, he and Iliana had become close friends since he and Serena had married. “I can’t answer that question. You know if it feels right.”
She touched her stomach, which was fluttering with butterflies. “I feel nervous.” She was fully aware of the gravity of the step she was taking. “But happy.”
“Then, I think you answered your own question. He’s waiting for you. Are you ready?” Casimir asked.
Iliana nodded, and Casimir opened the door to the garden.
Iliana stepped across the threshold for the second time that night. Once inside, her worries and doubts melted away, and all she could see was Demetrius waiting for her at the end of the petal-strewn aisle.
He was incredibly handsome, refined yet rugged. She liked that about him. She could envision him swinging an ax as easily as she could imagine him planting seeds in his garden.
Walking toward him, her body felt light; her feet floated on air. She was doing the right thing, allowing love and joy into her life. Iliana welcomed her future with open arms.
* * *
The reception following their intimate wedding ceremony brought several more important faces. Demetrius introduced her to generals in the Icarus army and navy and his political advisers. It seemed everyone who had a hand in running the country was celebrating with them in their home. Despite the last-minute plans and the late-night festivities, their guests were in high spirits.
A few times Demetrius seemed to be in a serious conversation with someone, but then he would find her face in the crowd and they’d share a private smile. He was the president of the country. He had work to do. But tonight was about them.
After a couple of hours, Demetrius swept Iliana into his arms. He addressed the room from the doorway. “Thank you all for coming tonight, but I bid you good night. My wife and I have plans.”
The crowd roared with laughter, and Demetrius’s military men banged their beer mugs against the wooden tables and cheered.
“Demetrius, everyone will know,” Iliana said as he carried her toward his bedroom. Their bedroom.
“That I’m having sex with my wife? So what?”
She wasn’t a prude, but some topics were private matters. “It’s so...intimate.”
Demetrius kissed her on the mouth. “Which is why I did not invite anyone else along.”
She laughed, threaded her fingers around the back of his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. He took the stairs with her in his arms.
“Thank you, Demetrius, for tonight. For making this special for me.”
“You’re my wife. There is nothing I would not do for you, and I expect the same in return.”
A shiver of concern coursed over her as doubts pressed at the edges of her emotions. She had given him her loyalty, her heart and her life. Though they had not explicitly discussed it, she would resign from her position as the queen’s personal secretary. She would live in Icarus with Demetrius. Wasn’t that a lot to give up for him? Did he expect more?
Demetrius entered his bedroom and kicked the doors shut behind them. The room was overflowing with flowers, lilies of all colors set in vases, petals strewn on the floor. Candles flickered in glass containers, illuminating the room.
Demetrius laid her on the bed. “I suppose you’ll be angry if I tear your new dress. You look so lovely in it, and that makes it much harder to be patient.”
She ran her hand over the soft, intricate lace. “You can’t tear it. I want to use it to make baptismal gowns for our children.”
He lifted his eyebrow. “Already we’re discussing children?” She could tell by his expression he liked the idea.
When they were alone, he made little effort to conceal his emotions. In public, he was stone-faced and cold. This warm, spirited side of him stirred her emotions. She felt connected to him, as if she alone got to enjoy this side of him.
“Will you help me remove my dress so I might make love to my husband?”
He loosened his tie around his neck. “Yes. Absolutely. I want you naked of everything except my rings. You must wear my rings.”
She touched the rings on her left hand. “And you must wear mine.”
He removed her dress carefully and laid it over a chair. When they rushed together, Iliana felt the supreme rightness of being in his arms.
* * *
Iliana awoke in Demetrius’s bed. Not Demetrius’s bed. Their bed. Demetrius was gone. She stretched beneath the sheets and then looked for a note. But she found nothing to indicate where he had gone. She ignored the twinge of disappointment. She had wanted to wake with him beside her on their first morning as husband and wife. Perhaps it was a good thing. She was sore. Demetrius was an energetic lover, and she didn’t think she could have sex with him again, which he would inevitably have wanted if she’d awoken in his arms.
She took a shower, pleased to see he had provided women’s shampoo and toiletries for her. That small gesture erased the lingering disappointment of waking without him.
She dressed in the clothes that Serena had brought for her and went in search of her husband. Just thinking of him in those terms made her shiver.
She found Demetrius on the main floor in his office. She entered without knocking. He was wearing a suit, as he often did, standing at the window and was on the phone, his headset clipped to his ear. She circled his desk and slipped her arms around him.
He was speaking French. She hadn’t heard him speak it before. She’d had some basic French lessons in her youth but didn’t remember enough to follow the conversation in any meaningful way.
When he disconnected a few minutes later, she kissed him. “How many languages do you speak?”
“Eight.” His voice was cold, and he removed her hands from around him. “I need to speak with you about a grave matter.”
He had to leave on a trip. Trouble in the Mediterranean. Concern whipped through her. “Are Serena and Casimir all right?”
“They are fine. I would have woken you if this matter involved them. This does involve your family, though.”
Since her parents had died in a tragic car accident years earlier, she hadn’t been able to shake the dread that someone else she loved would be taken from her abruptly. That sense of loss and fear gripped her now. “Please tell me quickly.”
“The king of Valencia is dying.”
Not what she was expecting to hear. “I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t mean to be callous, but how does that involve me?” She knew the king by name, but they hadn’t met. “Do you want me to prepare something to send to his wife and family?” Was this her duty as Demetrius’s wife? She could relate to what the king’s family may be going through, and if she had words of comfort to share to ease their pain, she would.
Demetrius sighed. “I do not want you to send anything. The king wants to see you.”
“Why?” Demetrius was being evasive. Where was the soft, warm and passionate man she had married the night before? It was as if she was with public Demetrius, and she didn’t like it.
He didn’t answer. Something dark and uneasy settled over her. “Demetrius, you need to tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me and acting cold.” It was on the tip of her tongue to mention slipping from their bed without saying good morning, but she didn’t want to fight with him over a trivial problem and she still didn’t understand what this was about.
“You are not the biological daughter of the man and woman who you know as your parents,” he said.
Iliana shook her head. She was. She had pictures from the day of her birth to prove it. “That’s not true.”
“You are the biological daughter of the king of Valencia and his late mistress, Persephone Paphiti. She died in childbirth, and the king asked your parents to adopt you. A blood test will confirm what I’m telling you, or I can provide you the DNA results I have already run.”
So many questions and so much hurt pummeled her at once. She struggled to make sense of it all. “You checked my DNA without telling me?”
“It was a simple matter to ensure I was correct about you and the king.”
Betrayal pulsed through her. “I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?” he asked, this time his voice a little softer.
She retreated a step, putting distance between them. Why was he breaking news of this magnitude in such a cold manner? “How long have you known?”
“For over a year.”
Her jaw slackened. As the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, they presented an ugly picture. She had ties to the royal family in Valencia. What did Demetrius want from those connections? She knew Demetrius’s reputation for doing everything with meaning and for a purpose. She had been naive to think he had married her without an agenda.
She had been desperate for a family and for someone to care for her, and she had bought into his ploy. Hard to believe that five hours ago, she had been curled in his arms, moaning his name and falling head over heels for him.
His face was impassive. “I realize that you are upset. I will help you come to terms with this.”
Anger coursed through her, hot and violent. “How do I come to terms with this? You just told me that the people I called Mom and Dad aren’t my parents. Have you thought about my feelings?”
“The people who raised you are your parents in every way that matters. Nothing will change that. All I bring to your attention is that your biological father is dying. If you have questions, answers will only be available as long as he has breath.”
Despite her rage, the words comforted her. Her parents, the people who had loved and raised her, would always be her parents. This curveball did nothing to change that, meant nothing next to their unconditional and unrelenting love for her. She had felt it every day in the way they spoke to her and cared for her.
“If you want to see the king, we need to go now. His condition has worsened, and his days are numbered.”
Though Iliana was furious with Demetrius and still reeling from the bomb he had dropped, she wanted to see the king. It may be her last chance.
* * *
Aboard Demetrius’s private jet, Iliana sat as far from Demetrius as possible. It bothered her that it didn’t seem to bother him. He was working on his laptop, taking calls. He didn’t glance in her direction once. They were traveling with a couple of his servicemen and some of his advisers. Five other men on the plane, not including the pilot and the copilot. So much testosterone.
Iliana glanced at her outfit. A pair of simple black pants and a green top, fitted but not revealing. She was meeting a king after all. She had intended the outfit to catch Demetrius’s eye. Getting his attention had been easy before, and it had pleased her how quickly he had turned his attention to her in any situation when they were together. Now that they were married, not even twelve hours after their wedding, he seemed indifferent to her and that stung.
Had it been an act? Iliana didn’t have great judgment when it came to men. This latest fiasco proved it. She had made an epically bad decision. Not just a bad date, not her sneaking out of a man’s bedroom in the early-morning hours with regrets. This was a whole other level of bad.
She had married the president of Icarus. He was using her as a tool, and she hated that. She still didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but when she figured it out, she would make sure he received the opposite from her.
Was she in love with Demetrius? She had thought so. She desired him. She cared for him. He occupied much of her time, and there was a warm feeling that accompanied thoughts of him—wasn’t that love? Iliana wasn’t sure she had ever been in love before. She loved her parents, her cousins, her family, but romantic love had eluded her. She’d confused lust and passion with love before, and it had ended badly every time.
Everything she felt for Demetrius was called into question. She had imagined their relationship to be a sweeping romance with grand gestures of affection. She’d had that from Demetrius for a short time. Now she had the awful sensation of being exploited and ignored.
Ignored like her biological father had ignored her, handing her off and pretending she didn’t exist. Iliana loved her parents, and while she couldn’t imagine being raised by anyone else, it hurt to know they had kept this secret from her. Perhaps they’d thought they were protecting her. With them gone, she would never have the answers.
Demetrius was telling her the truth about the king of Valencia and Persephone Paphiti. The information could be too easily verified for him to lie about it. Blood tests would be conclusive, and Demetrius didn’t make mistakes. Having eyes and ears everywhere, he knew too much. He was shrewd and he was spot-on in political matters in the Mediterranean.
Demetrius’s reputation preceded him. She had heard and read it all. He was cold and calculating. He killed without mercy. He rammed his agenda through by any means necessary. Iliana hadn’t believed those accusations. She had seen him in another light, and she had felt special because she’d believed herself privy to some secret side of Demetrius.
But that warmth and affection was completely overshadowed by what he had done. He had lied to her. He had manipulated her. He didn’t get the benefit of the doubt anymore.
She would make his life hard. She would make him rue the day he had decided to use her for political maneuvering.
Iliana stood and stretched, letting her shirt ride up a bit. She turned to give Demetrius a look at her profile. She wasn’t vain, but she worked out and she knew she looked good. Demetrius was attracted to her. No way had he faked that. In her peripheral vision, she saw that she had his attention. So she bent over at the waist, touching her toes and wiggling her hips.
If Demetrius wanted to play the “married” card, she would play it, too. Let him see what he could have and what he was missing. She’d deny any advances, and she wouldn’t stand for one moment of him cheating. But she knew he wouldn’t. Demetrius DeSante was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a cheater.
He did, however, move like a panther.
He was at her side in moments. “What are you doing?”
She smelled his cologne, or maybe it was the soap he used, light and spicy. It turned her on, but she tamped down her lust. That ridiculous emotion had ruled her the night before, and she was shutting it off from here on out. “Stretching. My schedule is off. I didn’t work out this morning, and my muscles feel tight.” She pretended to be unaware that he was hard beneath his pants. She tossed the question back at him. “What are you doing?”
He growled in the back of his throat. “Stop it.”
“Stop exercising? Why?”
“You know what you’re doing. Every man in this cabin is staring at you, and I won’t have it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t command people to stop using their eyes.”
“I will remove the eyes of the next person who looks at my wife with lust.” His voice was loud and clear. Everyone looked away from them.
“You are being ridiculous.”
He walked to the entrance to the small bedroom aboard the plane. “A word. Alone, please.”
Iliana followed him into the bedroom. He closed the door behind him. She sensed he was grappling for control. Control of his anger or his lust? She waited.
“Are you trying to antagonize me?”
She smirked at him. “Yes.”
His eyes blazed. “At least you admit it.”
“I want you to apologize,” she said.
He loosened the tie around his neck and undid the first button of his shirt. Disheveled looked good on him. “If I say the words, will you stop being upset?”
“You have to say the words and mean them,” she said. “Then I’ll see how I feel.” She would still be angry, but she wanted him to twist a little for what he had done.
He looked her up and down. She felt as if he had touched her. “Iliana, I’ve never been more attracted to another woman than I am to you. What I know about the king of Valencia as it relates to you has nothing to do with that attraction.”
“But you married me because of it.”
He drew in a deep breath. “I would have married you one day. I moved up the timeline because of the king’s health problems.”
Surprising words, and she didn’t know if she could believe them. His admission wouldn’t slake her anger. “You could have been honest with me.”
“I told you about the king when the time was right.”
Right for his plans and for him. The encounter with the assassin the day before flashed to mind. “Do you think the man who tried to kill me was after me because of my connection to the king of Valencia?” She had thought the murder attempt had to do with Serena, or maybe even Demetrius.
“I suspect someone else knows who you are and they want you dead because of it.”
Iliana wished she hadn’t left Acacia. She could have stayed in the castle and dealt with Serena and Casimir’s lovey-dovey behavior for a few days. Anything was better than this. “Going to Valencia seems like a patently bad idea, then, if someone wants to kill me.”
“No one will kill my wife.”
Low self-esteem wasn’t his problem. “You’re not invincible, Demetrius.” She’d heard Casimir and Demetrius telling war stories, and she’d heard rumors of her husband’s prowess in battle. Despite implications to the contrary, he was human.
“I would sooner die than let someone harm you.”
He had spoken similar words before, and it accentuated how different their worlds were. She had never been in a physical confrontation. Acacia had never been to war. Demetrius had battle scars to prove that he had. “Let’s aim for no one dying.”
“We will stay together in Valencia. You will not sneak away. For your safety and the safety of anyone who may make the poor decision to harm you.”
Iliana blinked at him. “I know how to be safe.”
“Were you being safe in Elion last year?”
Of course he would bring that up. She had been nearly mugged, but Demetrius had rescued her. “I made a mistake. I’ve learned from it.”
“Do you want to have sex?” he asked.
She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Had she misheard him? “Excuse me?”
“You’re sending me mixed signals.”
He looked devastatingly handsome. Black shirt and gray pants, pressed and stylish, his dark hair brushed back from his face. Sliding her fingers into it, letting the silky strands fall between her fingers, would feel good. This wasn’t the first time she had been angry with Demetrius, and the strange part was that she was perpetually attracted to him. She must have a thing for picking the wrong men, as she was clearly a lost cause where Demetrius was concerned. “I’m giving you one signal right now. I’m angry.”
“Some couples counter fights with sex.”
Tempting, but sleeping with Demetrius wouldn’t get it out of her system. She’d want him more. “Couples have sex after the fight is resolved. This is nowhere near resolved.”
“Tell me what I need to do to resolve the fight so I can go back to making love to my wife when she needs me to.”
Those words felt like a caress across her breasts and down her body. “I don’t need sex.” She’d had great sex with him in the early-morning hours. It should tide her over for at least a week. Given her recent dry spell, she could go six months without another man laying a hand on her.
“It would relax you, and you seem very tense right now.”
“We aren’t alone on the plane.”
“My staff won’t interrupt us in here.”
She felt her resolve cracking, but she shored up her defenses. “No sex. You’re still withholding information. I’m withholding sex. You have yet to tell me why you married me.”
“I married you because I wanted to. You can’t pretend that you don’t enjoy it when I touch you. Sex has nothing to do with this fight. Let’s keep the two separate.”
Reasoning that would only make sense to a man. She wouldn’t let him win. “No.”
“Then, let’s call a truce for at least the rest of the flight.”
“No.” If she argued with more than a simple word, he would find a way to negate it. She already felt herself giving in. “You left this morning before I woke up.” She had meant to let that go, but she wanted ammunition and it was sitting right there.
“I wake early. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I wanted to wake beside my husband. Don’t we even get a honeymoon?”
“In the future, I will wake you before I leave our bedroom. I will give you a honeymoon when there is time.”
“That was before. I’m mad now. I don’t want either from you.”
He looked exasperated. She exited the bedroom and returned to her seat.
Demetrius strode to his seat. To her surprise, he moved closer to her. Next to her. Unless she wanted to stand for the rest of the flight, occupy his previous seat next to his advisers and servicemen or return to the bedroom, she was trapped. Trapped in this plane and trapped in this loveless marriage.
