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She makes me smile. It’s her attitude pushing through, wanting to be unleashed. I crave those reactions because when she’s subdued by her fears, like today with my men, it does something to me. It’s as if the hole in my chest fills with dread.
“Now, wouldn’t you like that?”
“If I thought I caused it, yeah. But I don’t believe in miracles.”
“You have three months to become someone I can take out with me.”
“What?” Her voice raises a few octaves.
There it is again, that fear I hate.
“I gave a press release with our wedding photo, but we have to go out as a happily married couple. I married you for my political career. That means going out to social gatherings.”
“I know that. But . . . I . . .”
“It’s up to you to figure out how our time together will be. Pleasant or a battle. But keep your part of the deal. If not, I will make you.”
Fear switches to panic. The panic turns to anger; it flickers in her eyes, making them appear emerald. She is so easy to read, and it’s refreshing.
“Since the moment you accepted my ring, you became mine.”
Her lips press together in a thin line as she fists her hands at her sides.
“No.”
“No won’t take you out of the deal.”
“You don’t understand.”
Losing a bit of my patience, I snarl. “What don’t I understand? Explain.”
She turns her head to avoid looking at me. “This is all too much, too sudden.”
Even though I admire these bouts of bravery, I don’t have the fucking time for this. Propping against the desk, I grip the edges in an attempt to get a grasp on my patience.
“I’ll be there every step of the way. Now, back to the rules. I expect obedience.”
She lifts her chin, arching a brow defiantly. “Never.”
“Three months. Get ready.”
She throws her arms in the air. “You’re delusional.”
“At the end of that time, we will make our first appearance as a married couple. And I will hold your hand. I will even disinfect mine for you.”
“You . . . you . . . you big AA,” she says and storms out of the office.
What the fuck is AA? Alcoholics Anonymous?
With furrowed brows, I look at the open door.
Marie steps inside, worry marring her features. It’s how she always looks at me. I hate it as much as it comforts me.
“Cameron, what did you do?”
“I don’t have the time or the patience.”
“Well, you’re going to need both. She’s sweet, Cameron. Violet could be someone...”
