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“My wife isn’t in the palace. She is here, and I can hardly let her spend her first night here alone, now can I?” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Like oh, of course, you shouldn’t look directly at the sun.
“So, there is the wine.” He snickered and walked around me again into the bedroom, tossing his coat onto the ottoman at the end of the bed, grabbing my unfinished glass to drink from it.
“Gale!”
“Hmm?” He looked at me, still drinking.
He—I—What was he doing right now? Breathe, Odette. Breathe. “Gale, you cannot just break into my bedroom, demand to sleep, and drink my wine like nothing has happened—like we don’t need to talk.”
“I know we have to talk. I would just prefer to do that after I have slept,” he stated, taking a seat by the side of the bed, already kicking off his shoes.
“I do not care what you prefer!”
“Yes, I am well aware.” He snickered now, lying back on the mattress. “Which is why you flew thousands of miles to divorce me.”
“Exactly! Now, please get off my bed.”
“Our bed,” he corrected, closing his eyes.
“No, my bed! As in, I paid for the room.”
“Our bed as in, husband and wife, what’s yours is mine.”
I bit my lip and stretched out my fingers to keep from strangling him. “If you agree to a divorce, we will not be that anymore. And what’s mine is mine again.”
He did not answer.
“Gale?”
“ZZZZzzz,” he pretended to snore.
Marching up to him, I pinched his nose and put my hand over his mouth. His eyes snapped open, and he ripped my hands away.
“Hey! Attempted murder of a royal is considered high treason here! It is the only law that still carries a death penalty!” he said seriously.
“Even for the wife of a royal?” I shot back.
“Yes, you can only be shown mercy by the sovereign.” He held my hands tighter and pulled me onto the bed beside him. “However, that can get complicated, so let us handle this ourselves.”
“Brilliant, I want a divorce.”
His eyes narrowed, and he eyed me carefully. “Fine, but how much are you giving me in spousal support?”
I felt my jaw detach from the rest of my face. “How much am I giving you? You are a freaking prince.”
A wicked grin spread on his face. “And so? You are a billionaire heiress. You cannot just expect me to take nothing. I am at least entitled to half.”
“You—You gold digger.”
He shrugged. “I will tell the judge you knew that before you married me.”
I yanked my arms away, wanting to smack the hell out of him. But I took another deep breath. Maybe he was drunk already. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I had fallen asleep in front of the television, and this was just my mind playing tricks on me. Either way, I wanted to keep as calm and rational as possible.
“Gale.”
“Yes, Odette,” he said my name with a smile.
Ignoring him, I went on, “When we got married, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. Everything was different. We were just going to be a duke and duchess. Come out for the press, then hide away. But then the world shifted under our feet. It is not our fault. These last few months, I have been thinking and—”
