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A kick of rebellion hit her stomach. Why? There was no one here. It was just herself and Diego. Why did he get the head of the table? Because he was the man? Because it was his home? If she was his wife, for no matter how long a period of time, it was her home too. Philosophically if not legally.
She stood abruptly, and then sat in the other chair, feeling bold and empowered. And not altogether the pawn she’d been feeling like earlier. Not just earlier. For weeks now.
It was just as she’d told Diego after the phone call with Matías. She was tired of feeling like she was the last person in the world that had control over her own life.
Was it so wrong to want to be the heroine of your own story? To want to have some say in what went on?
To sit at the head of the table. To control the headline.
She might be in a situation that wasn’t entirely of her own making, or her own choosing, but she was going to make of it what she could.
About two minutes later, Diego walked in. He saw where she was, his dark brow corking upward. But he said nothing. He sat down to her right, easily, lifting his wineglass and taking a sip.
“Is all of this to your liking?” he asked.
Liliana lifted her own wineglass to her lips. “Yes.”
“Have you started without me?”
“No,” she said. “I didn’t want to be rude.”
The corner of his mouth curved up into a grin, one that was becoming quite familiar to her. It was wicked, slightly dark, and it appealed to something inside of her that she could scarcely understand, let alone identify. She had never thought that a smile could be indecent, but his was. At least, it licked along her skin in an indecent fashion, made her feel heat down in her stomach that was in no way rational or reasonable.
Again, she became unbearably conscious of the underwear she had on beneath her gown. Underwear that he had selected for her. In fact, she had the feeling that every article of clothing in her closet, in the drawers of her dresser had been selected by Diego himself. And she had to wonder if he had touched them. If those rough, masculine fingers had run along the delicate lace fabric.
Which made her wonder what it might feel like if those rough, callused fingers ran along the delicate lace fabric while it was still on her skin.
Her cheeks heated, and she lifted her glass to her lips again, counting on the heady flavor of the wine to distract her. Of course, alcohol might be a bad idea. As it would simply lower her inhibitions.
Fortunately, her inhibitions were very high, so it would take a great deal of lowering before it got her into any trouble.
“Did you have a good day?”
“An uneventful one,” she said.
“Well, that can be good.”
“Indeed. How was your business?”
“Businesslike,” he responded, taking a healthy portion of meat and cheese from the platter and putting it on his small plate. He ate the food with his hands, the action sensual, sending a strange sensation skating down her spine. She opted to start on the soup. Soup was a safe food.
“Well, I suppose that can be good as well.”
“Indeed.” He echoed her, and much to her irritation she felt a bit of amusement at the exchange. Anger was one thing. Illicit sexual feelings another. Amusement... She did not want to feel amused with him.
“Tell me, Liliana,” he said. “What was your favorite thing to do at your father’s house?”
“You already know,” she said. “Read.”
“Did you read today?”
That made her face get warm again, due to what she had read earlier. “Yes.”
“That’s good. I’m gratified to know you’re not needlessly punishing yourself by lying around doing nothing but wearing a hair shirt.”
“Martyrdom has never suited me.”
“Really? Because you seem like a fantastic candidate for martyrdom.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Well. You were willing to marry a man of your father’s choosing in spite of the fact you didn’t love him.”
She frowned, reaching out and taking a piece of bread off the platter at the center of the table, peering into it fiercely. “Is that what you think?”
“Yes.”
“I have a sense of obligation to those I love,” she returned. “If that’s martyrdom...”
“It is. Essentially.”
“I don’t see it that way. It’s just that I’m not selfish. You don’t...” She took another bite of bread. “You don’t understand.”
“Make me understand. Here we are, at our first meal together as man and wife. Make me understand you, Liliana.”
“Will you make me understand you?”
“I’m creepy and crazy,” he returned dryly. “Can you truly understand either of those things?”
“My mother died giving birth to me,” she said, seeing no point in stringing him along. In giving him the satisfaction of toying with her as a cat did a mouse. “My father lost my mother right as I came into the world. He lost her because I exist. Tell me, how can I do anything to try and please him?” She blinked. “I...I wanted to please him, that is. For that reason. Not because I’m a martyr. But all of this has led me to the conclusion that my life really has never been mine. It’s a frightening thing, Diego, to realize that you have never truly been free until the moment you were kidnapped from your intended path.”
He picked up a piece of bread and dunked it in olive oil, taking a bite and making a musing sound. “Never truly free until you were in my arms? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No,” she said. “And yes, I’m in a cage after a fashion here, but it’s a different one. And... I don’t know. I don’t know the right answer. That’s the problem. I’ve wanted to please my father all this time, but... Part of me knows that it isn’t fair for him to hold my mother’s death over my head. Not that he blames me directly, but he definitely uses it. Has used it to keep me in line. To make me into the daughter that he wanted me to be.”
“And he’s a bastard for doing it,” Diego said. “Though, in my experience fathers tend to be bastards.”
“Your father...”
“We are not talking about my father.” His words were hard, definitive. “Continue to talk about yo
urs. About you.”
“Obviously, I never knew my mother,” she said. “My father’s all I had. I don’t think of myself as a martyr, primarily for that reason. It’s just... He’s all I have.”
“You have me now,” he said.
The air between them thickened. She... He meant it. Whatever it meant to him, she didn’t know, but the words he’d spoken had been spoken with absolute conviction. She had him. And there was no tart response for that. Not when he had spoken with such sincerity. With such gravity.
She had him.
He had her—that much was true. He had kidnapped her out of a window.
But those simple words he had just spoken gave her power as well.
“And very good bread,” she said, not sure what else to say. “Who is... Who is making our food?”
“I’ve hired some people on the mainland to supply us with meals. It’s being brought over in a helicopter by one of my men that I trust implicitly. No one else knows where we are.”
“I don’t know where we are,” she said.
“That isn’t going to change. While I understand our agreement does benefit you, you must understand that our trust is somewhat limited.”
“Well. I understand why my trust toward you would be.”
As soon as she spoke those words she felt guilty. He had been...
She thought of the way he had taken her hand today. Of him throwing that ring into the ocean. Giving her his rings. The way he had looked at her the first time he had seen her in the wedding gown. None of it was normal. But it was...
Somehow, she had the feeling that Diego had stronger feelings for her than anyone else ever had.
“Thank you,” she said. “For dinner. For... Oddly, for rescuing me from your brother.”
He lifted a brow. “I thought Matías was a good man?”
“He is. But a future with him is not actually what I wanted. Having options... Which our deal has provided for me... I don’t even know what I’ll do with that kind of freedom. I’ve never had money of my own. I’ve never done anything but exactly what my father asked me to do. And I felt obligated to do it. But this... It’s like you gave me permission to find another way. Somehow, taking away my choice gave me a world of choices I didn’t know I had.”
