Great. A husband who’s marrying me mostly for strategic purposes. Just what I’ve always wanted, I thought.
But my family. I was tired of their paying for my poor decisions.
“I… I need to think. And I want my phone,” I said.
“Not yet,malyshka. Once we’re married.”
I looked at him in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? Ev’s probably a nervous wreck?—”
“I’m sure she knows what’s going on by now,” he interjected.
My mouth dropped. That meant…
“Who knows? Besides Real. Who knows?” I demanded.
He sighed.
“Tell me!” I demanded.
“Prime. Ajani. Braeden.”
Each name intensified the burning anger, the sense of betrayal inside me. Real, as his best friend, was somewhat understandable, but the rest were supposed to be my people, and they were conspiring against me? A bitter laugh spilled from me, and I snatched my hand away.
“Theory, don’t take it like that. They just?—”
“Assume that the big, bad men know what’s best for me? I’m sick of that. I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” I announced, standing and brushing past him.
“Yeah, just one more thing, then.”
Targen stood, too, and I watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a signature blue box. He opened it, and I gaped at the huge, emerald-cut diamond, surrounded by a halo of yellow diamonds, set in a diamond-inlaid, platinum band. It was as traditional—if extravagant—as engagement rings got. My eyes flew to his, and he gave me a little smile.
“A little old-fashioned. Like my girl,” he said, taking it out of the box and grasping my left hand.
I had no idea what made me let him slide it on. He nodded his approval before speaking again.
“It ain’t coming off. Ever.”
Still speechless, I studied the ring, its brilliance evident even in the muted lamp light. My eyes watered. It was beautiful. How could I help loving it? I should take it off. Iwouldtake it off. Just… not now.
“Let’s go to bed. We can talk more later,” he murmured.
“I’m not—I’m not sleeping with you,” I managed to choke out around the lump in my throat.
“I won’t touch you, but my wife sleeps with me, shorty.”
“I’m not your wife.”
He tilted his head to the side, a smirk curving his lips. “Good practice for when you inevitably will be.”
Oh, okay. I could show him better than I could tell him. Last night’s adrenaline had definitely worn off, and I could feel myself dragging. I was ready to sleep, no doubt. But Targen need not think he was calling all the shots. I marched into the sitting room and curled up on the couch, pulling the throw off the back and settling it over my exhausted body. I ignored his soft chuckle. Instead, I wrapped the night’s feelings—fear, anger,confusion, betrayal—around me, protection from the pull I still felt toward his Casper the Un-friendly Ghost ass.
Some time later, when I was somewhere in the haze between sleep and wakefulness, strong arms slipped under me, lifting my thick form effortlessly.
“Targen,” I murmured the protest even as I shifted and curled into him.
The softest kiss brushed my forehead.
“I told you,milaya. My wife sleeps with me.”
