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"And I owe them, and will make sure I return the favor when they need it most."
"So that’s how you build your connections? By this constant give and take?" She scowls.
"That’s my life."
"It’s transactional," she huffs.
"It’s black and white. Makes it simple. Ensures I never find myself again in situations where I am not in control."
"Again? You’ve been in situations where you are not in control before?" She searches my features.
"If you’re asking whether I’ve been in love, then the answer is a no."
"But youhavebeen in an emotionally messy situation?"
"That’s none of your business," I retort.
Her face falls. She purses her lips and glances away. A hot sensation hooks into my chest. I know I’ve hurt her, but that’s for the best. The last thing I want is to open up more to her or keep up the flirty banter, which I admit, came as a surprise. I'm not into emotions, and definitely not into romantic overtures. I've been acting out of character. It's probably the surprise of being kidnapped, then waking up in a cell and finding myself alone with her that's responsible for it. It's going to make the situation more complicated. It’s best to keep this entire arrangement straightforward by not bringing feelings into it.
"You do realize, if we have to pretend to be getting married, then we have to show some level of intimacy with each other," she says in a low voice.
"That’s why I gave you those orgasms at the bar. Now, we’re both comfortable with each other physically. Enough that no one will suspect we only met a few days ago."
"That’s no replacement for showing we have an emotional connection."
"Well, we don’t and we never will.”
16
Jeanne
What the—? Did he just say that? And just when I thought we were actually beginning to get along. There in that bar, when he pushed me over the counter and proceeded to make me orgasm, I wasn't even resentful that I told him my name. The way he played my body, like Elle Woods had played with Emmett Richmond’s emotions. And I do need to stop with the Elle Woods jokes in my head. That's what happens when you grow up with a steady diet of Elle Woods trivia as told to you by your mom, not to mention, having to watchLegally Blondeevery Christmas. While I may have absorbed a lot of it subconsciously, it begins to wear you down after a while, know what I mean?
Also, he carried me up to the room after that orgasmfest and put me to bed. I’d been half asleep, drunk on the Os, but not so far gone that I didn’t notice he tucked me in, pulled the covers over me, and kissed me on my lips, by which time I’d fallen asleep. And I agreed to marry him, so why has he gone all grouchy on me now?
"What’s your problem?" I shoot him a sideways glance.
"I have no idea what you mean," he replies without opening his eyes.
"Something is the matter, else, why are you acting like a bear with a sore head?"
"Your imagination must be working overtime, Jeanne," he drawls.
"You’re giving me whiplash with this on-again, off-again attitude of yours."
"No idea what you’re talking about."
"You were all chummy and ready to engage in conversation in the pub, but now that we are on our way home, you seem to be pissed off with me."
He doesn’t reply.
"If this is how married life with you is going to be, I’m not sure I want to go ahead with the ceremony."
"You have no choice in the matter. I came through on my promise of getting you back in time for your premiere—"
"We aren’t yet back at the premiere," I remind him.
"We’re almost there. Now, you need to deliver on your side of the promise."
