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She snorted, then paused. “Is that what you’ll expect of me, too? That I’ll just do what you tell me to do and think what you want me to think?”
His dark eyebrows lowered. “No.” He pulled her into his arms, and ran his hand softly along her cheek. “You are
not my servant, Belle. My expectations are different for you. I expect you to be yourself. And say what you actually think.”
She looked at him skeptically. “You do?”
“Of course.” His lips curved upward. “So I can convince you around to my way of thinking. The correct way.”
She rolled her eyes. “Right.”
“I have no interest in a silent doormat as a wife. I would rather have sparks between us, and yes, hatred at times, than be married to a ghost. I expect you to tell me when you are angry, rather than hide from me. You will be my wife and soon, the mother of my children...”
“Children?”
“Of course.” He tilted his head. “You know how important siblings are. I was an only child. My life might have been very different if I’d had a sibling. Imagine how your younger brothers’ lives might have turned out if they’d not had you to take care of them.”
The thought gave her a chill. Her brothers would have been separated, sent to foster care. Or an orphanage, even, like Santiago. She bit her lip. “Of course it’s important, but...”
“But?”
“This is all just so new to me. I feel like my life is already becoming unrecognizable. Planning a society wedding? Have more children? I don’t know anything about running a mansion, or managing a staff.”
“You will learn.”
“I don’t know about designer clothes, obviously—” she looked down at her stretchy Bluebell Bears T-shirt and shorts “—or elegant manners or...”
“I’ve arranged an appointment for you tomorrow at eleven with a personal stylist. Ivan will take you. Kip will go with you.”
“Why would I need a bodyguard?”
“Consider him an accessory. You certainly won’t be the only one with a bodyguard. Your stylist is...” He named a celebrity stylist so famous that even Belle had heard of her. “She’ll provide you with clothes and everything else.”
“Bodyguard. Stylist.” She gave an incredulous, half-hysterical laugh. “I’m not some celebrity!”
“You are now, because of that ring on your finger.” He gave her a slow, seductive smile. “As for the rest of what you’ll need to learn, I’ll teach as we go. It will get easier.”
“How?” She was almost near tears. “How is this ever going to work?”
Reaching out, Santiago ran his hands down her arms, making her shiver with sudden awareness and desire as they stood in the shadowy bedroom.
“I’ll show you,” he whispered, drawing her to the enormous bed. “Starting with this.”
And he kissed her.
* * *
Golden sunlight poured in through the high windows when Belle woke up the next morning. For a moment, she just stretched languorously in bed. She still felt him all over her body. Remembering last night curled her toes.
Then her smile faded as she realized she was waking up in New York just as she had in Texas: alone. His side of the bed was empty.
Last night, he’d made love to her so passionately he’d made all her fears disappear. She’d been lost in the sensuality of his body against hers. She’d felt need so hot and intense it burned everything else away.
But in the morning, reality felt as cold as his side of the bed.
Belle looked at the clock. It was ten in the morning. She sat up, eyes wide. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so late. Even in the earliest stages of pregnancy, when she’d been exhausted, she’d worked the early shift, forcing herself to get up at five on dark, cold winter mornings. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept till ten. It felt sinful.
Rising from the bed, still naked as she’d slept, she stretched her arms and toes, and felt the baby kick inside her. She rubbed her belly, murmuring happily, “Good morning, baby.”
