“Rule number one in my home,” he said, his hands in his pockets as a sinister smile tugged one corner of his mouth. “Don’t die.”
Jaz was nowhere in sight—it was just the two of us. “Why do I have the master?” A knot formed in my stomach as the truth hit me. “Where do you sleep?”
“In the master.” His smile broke free and slid over his face. “Where else but by my wife’s side?”
But I wasn’t his wife. I was, at best, the product of a merger and a convenient mistress, and at worst, a slave to his every whim. Someone to call to his bed when he wanted and to send away when he was finished. What exactly did it make me if I wasn’t that? What would compel him to sleep by my side each night when he didn’t have to?
With a gust of wind, I hugged myself and walked by him, back into a flickering room. The nights were cooler by the water, and Jaz had lit the fireplace and iron candlesticks on the mantel. “I assumed . . .”
“What?” he asked. “That our marriage was for show?”
“Yes. I mean, no,” I said carefully, trying to slow my racing heart. “I know you have certain expectations of me. But there’s no need to encumber yourself with a true wife. I don’t expect us to sleep in the same bed after we . . .”
“After we what?” he asked, not bothering to hide his amusement.
He wanted to make me uncomfortable by forcing me to say it, but I wouldn’t let him. I turned around, lengthening my spine. “I figured I’d go back to my room after you fuck me.”
He inhaled deeply, fisting his hands in his pockets. “There is no after I fuck you, Natalia,” he said. “I’m always fucking you. I should like to be able to roll over and be inside you. To slide down between your legs at your request. To unwrap your pussy and suck on candy at all hours of the night.”
My skin pebbled with the alarming conviction in his voice. His filthy mouth was fit for a devil, and I had no doubt it would be just as bold between my legs. Ashamed by the way I quivered at the thought, I kept my back stick-straight. “Most men would be happy to take what they want and send their whore away. I’m fine with that arrangement.”
“I’m not.” His dress shoes clapped the terracotta as he stepped into the candlelight. Gone was any inkling I might’ve had that his bullishness was for show, or that he acted so profanely just to frighten me. His desire for me showed in his face and in his ragged words. “In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m not most men. You’re my wife, not my whore, and don’t ever call yourself that in or out of my presence again. Every night, you will eat at my dinner table. And every night, you will sleep in my bed.”
“Every night?” I asked, my voice breathy even to my own ears.
“Every night,” he replied on a growl.
“Until you grow bored of me.”
“You may wish for that,” he said with furrowed brows that made it hard to tell if he was teasing. “But don’t count on it.”
I swallowed. Just like my confusion over his interest in my virginity, I didn’t understand what would possess him to shackle himself to me when he had the luxury of freedom. The sex, I understood, even if the heat between us continued to bewilder me. We were matched enemies, and that ensured a modicum of respect between us, however small. Walking that fine line between hate and admiration only seemed to kindle our sexual attraction. But I could be both curious to explore that explosive spark and also not want to sleep with him.
I’d only planned to give that gift to one man.
My plans didn’t matter anymore, though.
There was no denying Cristiano when he’d been stoking the embers between us since he’d returned into my life as a haunting calavera. Except then, our chemistry had been harmless.
But a true marriage? It couldn’t be. I’d play a dutiful wife for others as I’d been forced to tonight. I’d placate Cristiano while I listened and watched for opportunities to get myself out of this situation. But what was the purpose of pretending in private that I was anything more than his plaything?
“Forever is a long time to sleep next to someone,” I said.
He prowled closer until we were toe to toe. “As you’ll grow used to the heat behind the gates of Hell, so will you come to enjoy sleeping by my side—and the safety it affords you.”
“Safety from whom?” So far, I’d only lamented what had been stripped of my old life, and feared the dangers that came with being in Cristiano’s grip—but I’d not yet considered any outside threats that came with this new one. “Who do I have to fear more than you?”