“They’re the same color, but they aren’t anything alike.”
“They’re the same shape, too.” I feel slightly annoyed that I can’t let this go, and stupid that I’m pointing out something that’s essentially a flaw. What kind of fool points out what’s wrong with him when he wants the girl to like him?
Whoa.Do I want my wife tolikeme? I thought… When I first realized we were married, I only planned to stay tied to her until we both got what we wanted—financial freedom for her and the promotion for me. But I realize I haven’t thought about my promotion much. Instead, most of my mental energy has been focused on her—wondering if she was okay, if she felt safe and if she was enjoying herself.
Lareina’s eyebrows knit as she shakes her head. “I guess, but so what? It’s not the same thing. Her eyes are cold and unfeeling. Like…one of those lizards that only has a basic brain. There’s no conscience. When she looks at me, I just want to shudder and leave. But with you, it’s the opposite. Your eyes are compassionate and honest. Smart, too. And determined. I thought it was amazing how you held yourself together in Vegas after your uncle drugged you. If your pupils hadn’t been so wide, I might’ve thought you were sober. Not only that, when you look at me, I feel warm and protected. You have the kind of eyes that make me trust you. Eyes are more than just colors and shapes. It’s about how they can make someone else feel. You have the most beautiful eyes, and believe me, they arenothinglike your mother’s.”
My heart pounds. Emotions shake me, and my hands begin to tremble too much for me to continue driving. I pull over, hit the hazard lights and turn to her. “Say that again.”
“Your eyes.” She runs her fingers over the corners of my eyes with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. “They’re nothing like your mother’s. They’re uniquely you, reflecting who you are.”
A tight lump forms in my throat. Her words feel like a light in the dark—salvation after despair. I cradle her shining face, lean over and kiss her with all the tender emotion she arouses. She kisses me back, her thumbs brushing my eyelids, gentle as butterfly wings.
When she touches me like this, I don’t care what Harvey said. I might not even care if she has an ulterior motive. If it’s some sort of insane self-deception, so be it. I’d rather be lost in the sweet maelstrom. At least as long as it lasts.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lareina
Something has changed.
Ares is acting differently. He’s still as attentive as ever, but there’s a hint of tenderness when he gazes at me, like I’m his most prized treasure.
But why?Ihaven’t changed. I’m still the same weird me—an eccentric heiress who can’t eat food without having somebody taste it first, and who has a higher number of fingers than friends in her contacts.
I’m not okay with anybody seeing the scar on my back, either, including my husband, so I’m always careful when we’re intimate. Sometimes a mix of wistfulness and disappointment crosses his face when I shift to hide it. Obviously, he wishes I wouldn’t be so obsessed about hiding it, but that isn’t going to happen. I always want to appear pretty before him, especially when we’re only going to be together for several months.
Also, I don’t have anything keeping me busy all day, like Ares told me he wants in a wife. Ethan and his team are doing most of the digging through my financial and legal affairs.
When I tell Ares about my idleness, he sets up a beautiful art studio in a sunny room with a fantastic view of the garden. It has three easels, all with differently sized canvases, an angled desk for sketching and a couple of comfy seats. A mahogany chest with four drawers holds all sorts of supplies, from paints topalettes to various brushes. It’s even better than the tiny studio Doris made in the house in Nesovia.
He must’ve put a lot of effort and thought into creating this space for me so quickly. I hug him tightly. His arms go around me, providing a comfort and warmth I never want to leave. Why does he make himself so irresistible when we both know our accidental marriage is just temporary?
He gestures at a canvas that’s taller than me and wide enough to cover a vast expanse of the wall. “Didn’t realize one of them would be that big,” he says sheepishly, his cheeks and ears turning pink.
He’s absolutely adorable, and the vulnerability in his gaze melts my heart. Who would’ve thought a big, bad lawyer could be so sweet? “It’s perfect. Just imagine what I can paint here.”
“True. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Don’t. It’s probably going to suck,” I say against his chest, recalling what the experts Doris hired said about my talent while studying my artwork, ostensibly to figure out my “mental state” but most likely to find a way to label me mentally unfit so she could toss me into an asylum.
“So?” He runs his fingers through my hair. “You said it was something you did with your mother, and it sounds like you liked it. Do what makes you happy.”
“What if I tell you I want to use your computer to watch things on YouTube?”
He looks puzzled. “What if you do?” Then he shows me how to log into an extra laptop he has in his office. “Yours. You can come anytime and use it.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that I might snoop around?” Doris would’ve never allowed me in her office without supervision. She was always paranoid I might discover something I shouldn’t have, probably because there was a lot to discover.
He shrugs. “Client materials are kept locked when not in use. Not because I don’t trust you, but because that’s the protocol at the firm. As for the rest…” He shrugs. “Snoop away.”
And he means it. I spend a few hours in the studio doodling in the brand-new sketchbooks—nothing’s inspired me to actually pick up a brush and sit in front of a canvas. Then I browse the web to read about science or history. Sometimes art or music.
It’s exhilarating to be able to learnwhateverI want,wheneverI want. Doris always restricted how long I could be on the internet and what kind of things I could read about.
Doris, you suck so bad. And my husband is amazing.
YouTube has videos on cooking Thai food! How cool! Maybe I don’t have to travel to Thailand to learn how to make pad Thai after all. I study one by a Thai-Canadian named Pai and order the ingredients to be delivered. I’ll try it tonight.
