“It’s been going well.” He held up his hands, palms facing Kairos. “I’m still in possession of all ten fingers, so there’s that.”
“She’s supposed to be your fiancée. Could you not talk about her like she’s some sort of rabid mongrel?”
“I could,” he said, thinking back to all the ways she was nothing of the kind, but a whole, pure woman. “But this is more fun.”
“Are you going to be able to handle yourself when we announced your holiday wedding at the Christmas Eve party tonight?”
“I promise you, Zara and I have figured out how to deal with each other.” He couldn’t suppress the smile that turned up his lips.
Kairos raised his eyebrows. “Have you?”
“We have.” And the deeper they settled into it, the more she wound herself around his life, the more unsettled he became.
Strange. He should take comfort in not being alone. But there was something about all this that made him feel as if he were being held underwater. As if he were holding her down with him.
And the deeper they went, the more panicked he felt. The more he wanted to release his hold on her and make his escape.
To retreat to the punishment of solitude because it would be better than the alternative.
Needing her. Losing her.
Failing her.
“Please tell me you didn’t take her to Vegas to purchase hookers, as well.”
“Oh, nothing as salacious as that. We’re sleeping with each other. Only each other. Shocking. I suppose I should be grateful that you’re married, and faithful to Tabitha. Otherwise this would be a wonderful chance for you to exact revenge.”
In that moment he knew he would kill his brother if he so much as looked at Zara. Any man, really. What was wrong with him? He felt torn in two. Desperate to hold her to him. Desperate to let her go.
Unable to do either.
“It would be. But I wouldn’t do that. Not to you. I’m not angry at you, whatever you might think. Well, I am. But not bitter. I’m not happy about what happened five years ago. How could I be? If I was deliriously satisfied in my marriage, perhaps it would be a different story.”
“All the Christmas trees in the ballroom are decorated.”
Both Andres and Kairos turned at the sound of Tabitha’s stilted voice coming from the opposite direction. It was impossible to tell whether or not she had heard what Kairos had just said, but judging by the way her pale blue eyes glistened, and the lack of color in her cheeks, she most certainly had.
Andres had to wonder why Kairos found being married to a woman as beautiful as Tabitha such a hardship. She was completely biddable, nothing like Zara, who was obstinate and imperious on the best days.
Of course, that was what he found so fascinating about her. Perhaps that explained it. Perhaps Kairos had wanted a woman more like Francesca. Beautiful, impetuous. Very likely to leave her husband, or get pregnant with the royal stable master’s baby rather than her husband’s, but certainly possessing charms. Poor Tabitha would never be able to compete if that was what Kairos really wanted.
Tabitha was like a china doll who stored herself on the top shelf, ensuring that she remained thoroughly unplayed with, undamaged.
Though Andres suspected this had damaged her a bit.
“Thank you,” Kairos said, his tone stiff. “I will be in to see everything in a moment. Andres and I were just talking.”
“Then I’ll leave you to it.” She pushed her lips upward into a poor approximation of a smile before nodding once and turning away, walking back into the ballroom.
“You were saying?” Andres asked.
“Nothing. Only that I’m not actively rooting against you. I never have. You can make this work with her. Especially if you have a physical connection. So do it. Don’t mess it up.”
“I’m not a child, Kairos.”
“Nor were you a child when you took my fiancée to bed.”
“That is true.”
“For once in your life, listen to someone.”
He listened. He listened well. It had just never made a difference.
“She’s a good woman,” Kairos said. “Strong. She’ll make a wonderful princess. And a wonderful wife.”