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As far as I know,I text back.He did a good job. I think it suits me.
I do love the ring. From a certain point of view, I even love what it represents—my own success at what I set out to do when my father and I arrived in London, my victory in getting Connor to marry me, securing my own future after Liam nearly ruined it.
I glance up at him once more under hooded lashes, taking in the sharp lines of his face, the scruff on his chin, those full kissable lips, his piercing blue eyes. He’s gorgeous in every way, and every time he touches me, he makes me feel the most incredible things. I’m excited to go to bed with him. To be his wife and finally not have to hold anything back. To experience it all with him for the first time.
But I shouldn’t be. We’d agreed on that beach—no more passion. Only duty and children, our passion saved for others. The more I allow myself to stray from that with Connor, even in my mind, even on our wedding night, the more I’m setting myself up for hurt and heartbreak later—because I have no reason to think he’s not serious about that.
I can make the appointment for you,Maggie texts back, saving me from my rapidly derailing train of thought.And if you’re open to it, I’m sure my mother would love to do the wedding cake and dessert table for the reception.I’ll start planning your bachelorette too!There’s a heart emoji, and then another text after that.I know it’s not the most traditional marriage, but you should get to enjoy the trappings anyway.
Thank you. You’re the best maid of honor,I text her back with a smiley face, resisting the urge to get defensive and say that my arrangement with Connor is, in fact, themosttraditional of marriages. Love matches are a modern invention, after all. Marriages for duty and heirs are as old as civilization.
Boston will be a fresh start for us,I tell myself, resisting the urge to peek at him again. A new beginning to our relationship. This is first and foremost a business contract, after all, and part of that contract is that I should never, ever, expect or hope for Connor to fall in love with me.
And I won’t. I’m not Sofia or Anastasia, not some innocent fool to believe that I need love for a successful marriage, or Caterina, to expect my husband to change for me. Connor is who he is, and he’s fairer than most, to tell me I can look for my desires to be satisfied elsewhere just as he will.
I tuck my phone away, tilting my head back against the seat and closing my eyes. Niall’s face swims into view—that chiseled bone structure, deep blue eyes and swooping black hair, his body lean and muscled and capable, leaning into mine. The way he kissed me with such intense longing, with suchneed.
Connor doesn’t have to want me for me to find pleasure and happiness.It doesn’t matter,I tell myself firmly.I don’t need him to love me. I just need him to keep his word.
After all, look what love has done to Liam and Anastasia.
Connor will be what he’s expected to be—my dutiful and detached husband, and I will be the same.
A dutiful and detached wife.
We will behappy—just like that.
2
CONNOR
Walking off the plane onto the Boston tarmac brought back a flood of emotions and memories that I wasn’t prepared to deal with. And so, staying true to the way I was raised—I simply forced them down.
Ifeltmy chest tighten with anxiety the moment my foot hit the ground. All of it came rushing back—the expectations and pressures of my childhood, the need to be perfect for my father, the way deciding to leave finally had felt like coming unchained at last, like I could finally fucking breathe.
Being back in Boston feels like being trapped underwater all over again. Like my own personal circle of hell. The only thing keeping me from turning tail and getting back on that damned plane is a combination of my own determination to keep my word now that I’ve given it and the assurance I keep giving myself that it will be different this time.
That I willmakeit different.
That the Kings won’t rule me. I’ll rule them instead.
Saoirse is right behind me as we get off the plane, Jacob and her father and then my other men behind us. I don’t look at her, don’t even touch her, but I’m keenly aware of her presence.
I can see her out of the corner of my eye, standing like a queen, her chin tilted up. And of course, she will be one, the queen to my King, ruling our home as I plan to rule the table of the other Kings. Together, once I take my rightful place, we should be unstoppable.
I’d been so against the match when she’d first shown up, but now I see the advantages of it. The strength in Saoirse that could make all the difference.
As long as she holds up her end of the bargain—and as long as I can control my desire for her.
There’s cars waiting for us, and I finally turn towards Saoirse as we walk towards them, her heels clicking next to me. “I have a meeting,” I tell her flatly, not allowing a hint of any emotion into my tone. “Head back home, and I’ll call you later. I’m sure your father will fill you in as well,” I add a touch acidly, but if she picks up on it she doesn’t let on.
The unflappable Irish princess.
Except when I touch her. Then she opens for me like a rose, and comes apart just as easily.
“That’s fine.” She tilts her chin up a little as she says it, as if she expects me to be surprised at how quickly she’s given in, but I’m not. Saoirse is nothing if not accustomed to the way things are done, and even she wouldn’t expect to be present at a meeting like the one I’m about to have.
She might have been present at certain meetings of the Kings in the past, but those were ones where the matters raised affected her. They no longer do. She’s my fiancée, for better or for worse, and her responsibilities lie elsewhere now, in preparing to be my wife.
