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“Nothing,” I said, smiling up at him. “I’m happy.”
“Do you know what you need? Talk to me, Liv,” he murmured, mouth brushing my forehead. “I can’t meet your needs unless you tell me what they are.”
That was the conundrum. I chewed my lip.
“It’s alright, baby.” His shoulders relaxed. “You fought me for a while, before Hugo was born. Maybe I fucked too much of the fight out of you.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
He shook his head once. “Never. But if you don’t learn to use your words with me, I’ll have to fuck all the fight back into you. And you don’t want that.”
I laughed quietly. “I like the way I am now, Lucien. I’m more at peace, I feel secure. I think…I think I’m finally healing.”
He bent and kissed my forehead, long and slow. “Then I’m happy. You deserve peace, wife.”
Wife.When he called me that, it gave me so much confidence. I gazed up at him, so deliriously in love it was getting me high.
Whether he realized it or not, he’d found his own kind of peace. When we’d first married, he’d been jealous, obsessive. But now, he was quiet, deliberate, and demanded the world’s attention and respect when he entered a room. It was magnetic, all that ice and quiet strength.
The deadliness of him…that was still firmly in place.
I shivered.
He released a short sigh. “Peregrine wants me to run for governor.”
Before I could speak, he pulled back and went to refill my wine. I stared, open mouthed.
“W—what?”
“My term is ending,” he said, handing me the glass. “My polls are good. Peregrine did extensive research and he thinks I could win.”
“But...okay…um,” I struggled. “Can—can we talk through this?”
“That’s what we’re doing now,” he said. “I want your advice.”
I took a beat to gather my thoughts, sipping my wine to stall for time. I cleared my throat. “I think that…if winning is what you want, you’ll get it.”
“Hmm,” he said.
There was a silence that trailed on and on. The clock above the stove ticked slowly as he played with the tie of my dressing gown. His lids were lowered, his eyes obscured. Not that it mattered. I couldn’t read them anyway.
“Talk to me,” I said gently.
“I have enough money to do anything,” he said slowly. “I have four sons. I have a fucking trophy wife. So…what do I want?”
I pulled back, surprised by his words.
His cheek twitched. “Did I offend you? You are, look at yourself.”
Was he…angry?
“Fucking perfect tits, big eyes, pretty mouth,” he mused darkly. “Thighs that spread for me in your sleep, that’s how fucking well trained you are.”
My brows shot up. A little flash of the old Lucien showed through. Dark and cruel. I slid my arms up, cradling myself. My chest was hollow and confused. His eyes closed and he took a beat, his hand resting on my knee.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I’m…there’s some shit going on at work.”
I took a quick breath. “It’s not the worst thing you’ve said to me. I recall a night when you told me you wanted to bend me over and fuck me like a whore. And it wasn’t just dirty talk.”
