Then: “Was it what you wanted?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
His jaw shifted once. “And Graves.” He paused, recalibrating. “He treated you correctly?”
Was Dominic worthy of the choice. That was the question Rhain had asked, in the only way Rhain ever asked anything.
“Yes.”
He nodded once. “It’s good that he did.” The words were gracious.
I could see the effort in him. The discipline. He wanted me. He wanted the same claim and he had no intention oftaking me by force, by guilt, by tradition, by any of the old useful arguments men had invented to make a woman’s choice sound negotiable.
“You can be angry,” I said.
He let out a slow breath. “I’m aware.”
“Rhain.”
“I’m jealous,” he said. “I’m jealous enough that I walked the perimeter for two hours this morning because the alternative was arriving here with a sentence I would’ve regretted.”
“What sentence?”
He didn’t look away. “Several. None of them fair.”
A silence settled between us.
“But I’m not angry with you,” he said.
I didn’t answer.
His gaze dropped briefly to the table, then returned to mine. “Let’s sit,” he said.
It wasn’t a retreat. It was Rhain choosing distance before either of us used closeness badly.
He waited until I sat before taking the chair across from me. Diplomatic distance. Careful distance.
“Your decision with Dominic isn’t about me,” he said. “I know that.”
A small, humorless smile touched his mouth and disappeared.
“Rhain.”
“The last time a man in my position treated a woman’s bond as something to challenge, it ended in a war and my mother dead.” His voice stayed even. Too even. “I’m not going to repeat that.”
I breathed for a moment while I digested that. Then I said, “I ended it with Nate.”
Rhain went still. “When?”
“Two days ago.”
“On the phone?”
“Yes.”
His shoulders dropped, just slightly. “He took it well?”
“He took it with more grace than I deserved.”
