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“Chloe?” Kysa asked. “What’s it like to be married to the youngest billionaire in the world?”
I cleared my throat, nerves thrumming, as Bryce reached over and gripped my hand again. Electricity jolted through me—I hoped the camera wouldn’t show how physically affected I was by my husband’s touch.
“Well, he’s not only the youngest,” I said, in a joking tone, “but he’s the most handsome. And the most intense, in case you haven’t noticed.”
Kysa threw back her head and laughed. “I love it. So what’s it like living with him?”
I straightened my shoulders and clutched Bryce’s hand. He looked sour—hell, hewassour—but I thought of how he’d hugged Noah. I thought of the last time he’d held me, back when he treated me like I was the most precious thing on earth. “He’s very kind and generous. We’re all concerned about his father, of course. My husband is very committed to his family.”
Kysa Reeves eyed our interwoven hands. “I can see that. Thank you for joining us today, Chloe. And Bryce, thank you for agreeing to speak with us.”
“My pleasure.” He nodded.
As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, he rose to his feet, taking me with him. “I told you not to ask my wife any questions on camera. That was a dick move.”
The reporter smiled at him, flashing her blinding-white teeth. “Our viewers are curious about who you are as aperson.Your father’s in trouble, Bryce—real trouble. Do you want your shareholders to rally around you? Be human.” Her direct gaze flicked over to me. “A young, beautiful new bride can only help you. You might want to let her out of her cage more often.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He sounded pissed.
“Good!” She didn’t match his tone—instead, she laughed. “I really hope everything works out for the best. I’m rooting for you, Bryce. Chloe, it was a pleasure.”
“Thank you.” It shouldn’t surprise me that someone so flawless could be warm and genuine, but it still did.
Bryce took my hand, and again, my traitorous insides clenched. He led me from the bustle of the room. “She shouldn’t have put you in that position,” he rumbled.
Panic rose in my chest. “I didn’t say anything too awful, did I?”
“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “You spoke very well. I just didn’t want to put you through that.”
Thatalmostsounded like an apology—which was not exactly in Bryce’s wheelhouse. “It’s okay.”
“Good.” His shoulders relaxed. “Are you hungry? I’m sure it’s been a long day.”
“I could eat.” Hope sparked inside me. He sounded so normal, like he…cared.
“I’ll have Chef prepare something for you.”
The brief glimmer of hope crashed and burned. “Just for me?”
“I have a meeting.” He checked his watch. “After dinner, please make sure that Noah’s settled. Then it’s curfew.”
I coughed. “Curfew?What do you mean?”
“We’re requiring the staff to stay on-campus because of the reporters,” Bryce answered. “They have to be inside their rooms by nine each night. So do you.”
“I have a nine o’clock curfew?”
He eyed me. “Yes. I expect you in our room at nine on the dot and in our bed shortly thereafter. I’ll have your dinner served out on the patio. I’ll see you in bed, Mrs. Windsor.” Without a backward glance, he stormed down the hall, leaving me alone once again.
What. The.Hell. Bryce should patent the emotional whiplash he was so expert at dealing out—he’d make another whole fortune selling it to men aspiring to be a douchebag just like him!
I expect you in our room at nine on the dot.
…and in our bed shortly thereafter.
I’ll see you in bed, Mrs. Windsor.
WTF had I gotten myself into? Did he actually expect me tosleepwith him after treating me like that?
